#and I miss being able to repair my own tech

[astral-mariner]

so there's shots in the saiyan saga of bulma futzing around with raditz's scouter and i'm like "MISS BRIEFS, I do not BELIEVE that a piece of alien tech can reasonably be taken apart with a FLATHEAD SCREWDRIVER" so it is a firm headcanon of mine that she had to resort to flathead screws to put it back together after she mangled the original ones by not having the correct weirdo alien screwdriver. AND OF COURSE vegeta brings like half a dozen of them back with him because they're like the spaceman equivalent of like a bicycle repair kit but bulma is DELIGHTED with them anyway and vegeta does not understand what this fuzzy warm 'i did a good' feeling is that is happening underneath his ribcage.

Oh my god, I love this! If someone writes a fic of this, I'd be all about it. That's so funny that she'd use an Earth screwdriver.

Everyone knows I already have a million headcanons about Raditz's scouter too. Like, Bulma and her dad were smart enough to figure out a Namekian ship. So she'd definitely be able to hack Raditz's scouter for whatever data might be left on it. I bet she learns a TON about how the Planet Trade works just from the interface and being able to browse some of its "Internet." And my long ass fic is literally her reading through Raditz's private stuff.

It's such a cool plot device to use---Bulma learning about stuff in space and perhaps other things she shouldn't even know about via the technology she's literally seen with in canon.

I really do think that was a big thing that brought her and Vegeta closer---them talking about things out in space. She'd be curious, of course, and it would come up naturally as she's doing tech repairs for Vegeta. How he trained between missions, what tech he used, what might be useful to adapt (as she makes her own version of Vegeta's PTO armor). And Vegeta might be his usual brusque self and give only perfunctory details... But even the way he talks about things, what he avoids talking about, and what little slips of personal details come out would tell Bulma quite a bit about him and would leave her wondering about more. Of course a genius scientist is going to take every opportunity to interview a humanoid alien that could tell her all about life in space.

And Vegeta might act like he merely tolerates her because she provides his training equipment, but you know for a fact that man is lonely, and he'd secretly enjoy when they end up talking for more than a few minutes. Finds excuses for it even. Finds little things wrong with the gravity simulator, finds little reasons to start a fight with her. Because gods know he could never just...go and visit and talk to her because he enjoyed her company or anything.

[like-a-bantha]

Checkmate

Summary: Maybe you're not the best at dejarik, but you do know your way around a chess board. In the absence of a board, you'll make due with your imagination. (Alternate title: Two dorks play chess, maybe they’ll kiss?)

Pairing: Tech/Gender Neutral Reader (no Y/N, no descriptions of reader's appearance other than being shorter than Tech)

Rating: G

Warnings: None! Just some brotherly teasing and good old fashioned chess.

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: This is silly and short and not Busted Hyperdrive (it's coming, I promise!) but I couldn't rest until I got this out of my system. It's my first non-platonic fic so if it sounds a little strange, I offer my sincerest 'my bad's. I'm also not a chess master, so if you're just here for the chess you're probably not gonna dig this. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave some feedback! <3

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

It started a few months back when you all had some downtime at Cid’s. You entered the parlor to find her grumbling to herself as she attempted to fix the dejarik table, now temporarily out of commission after taking one too many frustrated blows. You’d all been off-world when it finally kicked the bucket, but Cid’s grumpy tone while recounting the incident paired with the large dent was all the evidence you needed. The Trandoshan, feeling particularly charitable, offered a small handful of credits if they were able to patch up the abused machine. Taking it as a challenge, Tech finished the repairs within the hour, even going as far as to fix the nasty dent. You and Omega waited patiently for the table to be revived so she could teach you how to play, explaining the rules and pieces over a carton of mantell mix. You nod along, half-understanding how the game works but knowing full well you’re about to make a fool of yourself.

“I am finished.” Tech announces, slipping his tools back into their respective slots on his belt as he stands. He’s nearly knocked over by his little sister in her mad dash to the table, waving you over as if you’re not just a few steps behind her.

Nevertheless, you laugh and pick up the pace, thanking Tech as you take your seat. Omega pushes a few buttons and the table begins humming to life. “Why do I get the feeling you’re not gonna go easy on me?”

Without missing a beat, Tech answers the question for her. “She will not.” He pulls a chair over to the table, knowing exactly what’s about to happen even if Omega denies the claim.

Three games later and both clones are sporting rather smug looks; Omega’s for pride in her strategizing skills, and Tech’s for being right in his claim. Not one to be a sore loser, you thank her as you stand from the table, “That was fun, but I think I’ll stick to the version I played back home. You wanna take over for me, Tech?”

“I wanna hear about your version!” Omega perks up, interested in a variation of her favorite game. You glance over to Tech, who hasn’t taken the now empty seat, his head just barely cocked to the side in question as he wordlessly awaits your explanation. 

You stand, looking between them for a second before returning to your seat, a sigh slipping through your grin. With that, you dive straight into your description of the game, detail matching Omega’s earlier lesson. Both of them listen intently, asking questions that you happily answer. Tech glances down at his datapad every so often, you can’t seem to fight back a smile when you realize he’s been taking notes. Once you finish your explanation he sets it back down on the table while Omega looks at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to pull a full chess set out of thin air to give them both a demonstration.

“That sounds fun! Can we play?” Omega asks, eager to try her hand at a new strategy game.

“If we can find a set, I’d love to! But they’re pretty hard to come by outside of my planet.” You try to put on a hopeful smile, now regretting mentioning it in the first place as her own smile slowly fades. “I mean, technically you don’t need one,” this grabs both of their attention, “but it will be a little tougher.”

“You can play without the board? Or the pieces?” Omega asks, clearly skeptical as you said it was a board game. Tech, on the other hand, seems intrigued.

“Y’know how I said there’s a notation system?”

“Are you suggesting the game can be played verbally?” Tech reaches for his datapad; checking his notes, you figure.

“It’s possible! When the Empire showed up in my city and forced us out we didn’t have time to grab the fun stuff – mostly just, like, food and water.” You almost cringe a little, talking about your past isn’t really your forte. “We got bored, we played in our heads and called out our moves. It took some getting used to, but it’s still fun!”

“Fascinating.”

“You guys wanna give it a go?” Omega seems a little unsure but excited enough to jump into a practice round.

Despite her hesitation, Omega did surprisingly well. She even managed to beat you in the third game. And, unsurprisingly, Tech played like a natural, instantly picking up the game that took you months to master. You managed to beat him in your first game, but the next two were easy wins for him. If you were playing against your friends back home you might’ve gotten a little competitive, but the proud smile that crept onto your face after the first game has yet to fade. Later on, after the rest of the batch returned to the parlor, you sat back and listened to Tech and Omega’s gripping game – too enthralled to tell either of them that it will most likely end in a stalemate.

Hunter took a seat next to you at the bar, when his gaze shifts from Tech and Omega to you with a quirked brow you let out a quiet chuckle. “They’re playing chess.” He huffs, amused as the two of you watch their game in silence.

Soon, it becomes a favorite pastime among the three of you. Omega has tried to get her other brothers to join in to no avail, none of them seem to enjoy it nearly as much as the three of you. After a little digging, Tech finds a slew of archived games from your home planet and studies them intently. Whenever you find yourselves on a supply run off-world, you and Tech volunteer yourselves every time to search for a real set. What started off as a wild porg chase turns into a sort of tradition and, strangely enough, you find yourself looking forward to supply runs.

You’re counting ration bars and bandages after a too-long mission for Cid, most of your stock depleted, while Omega takes another study break to play a few rounds of chess with you. Hunter makes the call to stop on Boonta to refuel and restock, knowing the second you return to Ord Mantell you’ll be sent off on another mission. This time, when the Marauder touches down in a dingy space port, no one bothers asking who will be heading to the market.

Omega hums in thought, absently fiddling with her datapad as you wait for her next, and most likely last, move. She’s got you cornered, your only possible escape is Kb7 but she’s still got her Queen, and you’re out of pawns to promote. Her eyes light up. “Rook to b3! Checkmate!”

“I forgot about the rook!” You laugh, impressed at how she’s improved. “Good game, Omega, that’s four wins in a row!”

“It’s all about the strategy.” She beams triumphantly.

“Yeah? How about you strategize some homework,” you laugh, standing to leave, “then maybe we can play on a real board later.”

The girl’s laughs are suddenly interrupted by Wrecker’s booming voice calling your name from the cockpit, followed by a loud, “Your boyfriend’s waiting!” You just roll your eyes, Omega tries to suppress a giggle as she puts on her best studious face, her eyes locked on her datapad.

When you pass him on your way out, a barely noticeable blush on your cheeks, Wrecker lets out a barking laugh. You shoot him a look, but this only draws another laugh from the gentle giant. “Keep that up and I’ll make sure to stock up on those blue ration bars you hate.” That does the trick. Letting out a victorious laugh of your own at his silence, you make your way down the ramp where Tech patiently waits. “Ready?”

He clears his throat quietly, storing his datapad before he begins leading the way to the market. “After you.”

“Oh, how kind of you. E4.” You laugh, you two always tend to walk a little slower on supply runs.

“I assumed you would like the advantage after losing our last match.” Tech simply states, his impartial facade cracking when you shoot him an incredulous look. “E6.” His smile is barely visible, but you manage to catch a glimpse before he fixes his gaze on the path ahead. The two of you focused on the game as you navigate the city streets.

“Rook to B5.” You’re about to reach the forty-eighth move of the game with no clear end in sight as you approach the bustling market. “Did you wanna split up? I have to grab rations and stuff for the medkits.”

“Rook to A8.” He pauses for a moment. “I will accompany you.”

“Cool. Rook to D2.” You glance around the market, hiding your grin. You spot a vendor selling rations by the crate, buying wholesale might save you all some trouble. “Let’s check that stall first.”

“Very well. H6.”

You make your way through the crowd, now quickly calling your moves back and forth. Barely ten feet from the stall, you realize stocking up on rations would mean fewer supply runs and your mind starts to race. Suddenly, your pace is even slower than before and you’re losing focus on your mental image of the match. When you make an obviously thoughtless move, losing your knight, Tech stops in his tracks, turning to face you. “Are you alright? That was a terrible move.”

“Huh?” All of your focus has been diverted to quickly concocting an excuse that the genius would find believable. You can’t bring yourself to look away from the vendor’s stall. “Oh, yeah. They- uh, it looks like they only have the blue ones. You guys hate the blue ones, right?”

Tech’s brows furrow behind his yellow-tinted lenses. Maybe he didn’t buy the excuse but it certainly confused him. “I have no preference, nor do the others to my knowledge. Wrecker doesn’t like them, but he will manage.” You can feel his eyes on you, studying you, and you wished he would look literally anywhere else. “You’ve mentioned preferring them, however.”

“Let’s just look around a little more, maybe we can find someplace with more variety.” You turn to walk further into the market but he catches your wrist, his grip is loose but it brings you to a halt.

“Would I be correct in my presumption that you are attempting to under-stock our supplies to continue our regular supply runs?” You’re glad you haven’t turned to face him, your eyes are wide and your cheeks flushed, and he’s still holding onto your wrist as if you’d run away if he let go. You can’t think of anything to say, clearly you’re not great at excuses so you just stand there hoping he’ll just drop it.

You let out a heavy sigh, turning around to just barely face him, avoiding his gaze. “Yeah, Tech. Sorry. I just…” You trail off, maybe now he might let it be, you’ll grab the crate of blue ration bars and be on your way.

“You don’t need to apologize.” His tone softens, you’ve never heard him sound so gentle. Your cheeks feel like they’re burning and he’s still holding onto you. “If we are unable to find a chess set today, I’m positive I can make one to your standards.”

You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until it came out in a choked laugh. The chess set. Right. You make a mental note to not let Wrecker’s teasing get to your head. Cheeks slowly reverting to a normal temperature, you finally turn to face him with a bashful smile and the concern in his eyes begins to dissipate. “Thanks, Tech. That’d be nice.”

He returns your smile. “I will need your input, of course.” His gaze falls a bit and you see a flash of panic in his eyes before he quickly releases his grip on your wrist. Quickly bringing that same hand up to adjust his goggles, he clears his throat, now looking at anything but you. “G5.”

Your head drops with a laugh, nudging him with an elbow as you start towards the stall. “C’mon, let’s go buy a month's supply of ration bars Wrecker will hate.” As the tension fades from your body you find yourself able to focus on the game again.  “Oh, and thanks for the pawn. Rook to H6.”

You were right, wholesale is way cheaper. Much heavier, too. After you find a med supply stall that’s somewhat reasonably priced, Tech offers to take the crate and you hand it over with almost no objection.

“Would you still like to look around for a chess set?” Tech asks, lowering the crate a bit so you can rest your pack on top while you fill it with rolls of bandages and tubes of bacta.

You pause, your hands resting atop the pack that rests atop the crate in Tech’s arms; your brows furrowed in thought, you absently chew on your lip as you consider his question. You look up to find him watching you intently, and, rather than avert your gaze from his, you smile and shake your head. “Nah, I think I’d like one you make much better.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something but seems to decide against it, simply responding with an equally warm smile.

You return your attention to your pack, making sure it’s shut securely before swinging it over an arm as Tech readjusts his grip on the crate. Letting out a content sigh, you both begin making your way out of the market. “Your turn.”

“Ah, yes.” He thinks for a moment, it’s anyone's game now since you came back from your earlier blunder. Waiting until you’ve left the crowded area, he calls his move. “King to F7.”

“Running away from me?” You joke, unable to suppress a giggle when Tech looks at you with mock exasperation. “What? Queen to B7.” He instantly realizes what that move means, but you can’t help but give him a deviously smug smile. “Check.”

“Interesting.” He ponders his next move, absently attempting to adjust his goggles only to realize he’s still holding the crate. You watch on as he shifts it around, trying to balance it enough to free his right hand momentarily.

“Okay, okay, hold on, just… look at me.” You place a hand on his fidgeting arm, all movement coming to a stop. You stand on your tiptoes, reaching up to gently slide his goggles back into place, careful not to touch the lenses. Your breath catches when you make sure you didn’t accidentally leave behind any fingerprints and finally see the intensity in his eyes. He’s completely still, as if he would scare you away with any sudden movement. You can’t help but freeze as well, hands still gently resting on the frame of his goggles. When you wobble a bit on unsteady tiptoes, your fingertips just barely graze his cheekbones and his lips part in a silent gasp and, oh god, now you’re looking at his lips. Eyes, look at his eyes, that’ll help, you think, so you look back to his eyes and catch them flicking back up from your lips, or maybe the ground, maybe he’s just really into dirt these days, and now you’re starting to get dizzy. You retreat rather abruptly, your heels meeting the ground with a quiet thud, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other on his forearm to keep from falling over. After overthinking some more, both hands come to rest unnaturally at your side, wide eyes trying to focus on anything that isn’t him but ultimately failing. His gaze hasn’t left you, his expression unchanged. Deciding you should say anything, literally any words to break this tension that you created, you clear your throat and give a shaky, “Any better?” 

He just stares for a moment. You’ve never seen him this flustered – or flustered at all  – and now you’re really about to panic, your mind playing a loop of oh maker, I broke Tech. You’re about to release a minimum of one hundred apologies when it seems he’s finally returned to his body. “King to G8.” As if nothing happened. As if he can still win after such a pitiful move.

“Oh, Tech, I’m so sorry.” You look up at him, guilt dripping from your words.

He shakes his head, readjusting the crate one last time before finally just setting it on the ground for a moment. “No need to apologize, I have been wondering for some time if my feelings were reciprocated.” When your eyes widen in shock, he decides to clarify. “Romantic feelings. Towards you.”

“No yeah, I got that.” You shake your head, a pleasantly confused smile somewhat replacing the shock on your face.

“You appear to be confused, is my conclusion incorrect?” Now it’s his turn to internally panic, second-guessing himself for what appears to be the first time.

He looks confused when you let out a short, nervous laugh. “No, you’re correct. Romantic feelings are very much reciprocated.” You take a tiny step closer, leaving little room between the two of you, returning to your tiptoes. Tech, ever the genius, takes the hint; first bringing a hand to your waist to steady you before closing the distance, your lips meeting in a sweet kiss as he brings a tentative hand up to gently cup your cheek.

When you finally part, returning to ground level once again though still in his embrace, he cocks his head to the side. “May I ask, then, why did you apologize?”

You laugh, your forehead bumping the chest plate of his armor before once again meeting his gaze. “Rook to C8.” You reach up for the shortest, sweetest peck of a kiss. “Checkmate.”

A/N pt.2: If that wasn't the cheesiest thing I've ever written, I don't know what is - Alexa, play Yuck! by Charli XCX. This was so fun to write! Thank you so much for reading! <3

[eriexplosion]

Replacements time, I didn't need my heart anyway.

The way that Wrecker was fully going to take Omega's food rations, I get it I am also not thinking when I'm hungry. But this combined with his line in Pabu about being full for the first time, they were just NEVER provided enough rations to adequately fuel Wrecker, not even before they had to puzzle through buying them themselves. The kaminoans had to know his calorie intake needs okay and they simply opted NOT to fill them. Justice and a nine course meal for Wrecker.

"It's not affecting life support. We're fine!" Tech is going to come back with like a dozen injuries he simply didn't deal with yet because he was technically able to function with them, so it's basically the same as being healthy.

I do love Echo's grouchy REPAIRS WOULD GO FASTER IF I HAD SOME HELP, but the feels punch of seeing them bickering in the pilot and copilot seats and then flashing forward mentally to Echo gazing sadly at the empty chair. I'm hurting my OWN FEELINGS.

I FEEL LIKE IT WOULD BE REASONABLE TO STRAP GONKY IN? DO YOU WANT A FIFTY SOME POUND (MINIMUM) DROID SLIDING AROUND FREELY IN A CRASH SITUATION?

Another Wrecker head bonk, no wonder his chip activated it's been under percussive maintenance this whole time.

CROSSHAIR WEAPONS KIT MOMENT. Which they have just been steadfastly ignoring because it hurt their feelings to think about it.

Further evidence they simply haven't been thinking about it: Echo like THEY CAN DO THAT? when Tech reminds them that the chip can influence behaviors. Yeah what did you think they did, Echo, just provided a tiny little nudge? But I think it's just very hard to fully grasp the scope of something like that. Yes almost every single clone is under the control of an inhibitor chip, yes it's strong enough to make you turn on your own squad, yes that's in ALL of their heads right now, just not functioning properly.

I just love Wrecker not giving that much of a shit about being shot. That hurt, but he still misses Crosshair.

Anyway this squad contains pure concentrated avoidance juice, if they just don't think about it then Crosshair didn't betray them.

Rampart and Tarkin together creating a solid layer of slime all over the room. I just hate them watching him through a one way mirror talking about him like an interesting object. (Though I do like the moment where he stares at them straight through his own reflection, he knows he's being watched the whole time)

They literally do not address him once and he looks so unimpressed just looking between them like he's waiting for anyone to notice he's there.

Tech looking at giant clawmarks in the siding: well those weren't there when we landed. Treat something like an emergency challenge, impossible.

"I'm part of this squad now too, right?" *Tech and Echo look at Hunter, they're NOT taking a stance on this* Assigned dad by committee

"I'm angry at myself. We don't leave our own behind." "Then we'll find a way to get him back. Somehow." AND THIS IS WHY THEY ALL NEED TO BE TOGETHER, THIS IS WHAT THE SHOW DESPERATELY WANTS US TO WANT, THE TEAM IS NOT COMPLETE UNTIL IT'S ALL OF THEM.

I might have paused just before the start of the attack on Gerrera's camp for an inordinately long time but it's just a genuinely distressing scene.

Does contain a GREAT transition back to Hunter & Omega though.

"See it?" Well Hunter it's both flashing AND beeping, so yeah I think Omega sees it.

The way that Hunter straight up would have died out here if Omega hadn't gone with him okay, just would not have come back. (Omega is going to continue to be the key to making sure everyone survives I think.)

Back to Onderon for more highly uncomfortable war crime scenes. Truly I don't think that the show that has Crosshair shoot a woman at point blank range would have many reservations showing us Tech's body. (Yes I'm going to be like this the whole time I'm SORRY)

But ohhhh my god I need Onderon to come back somehow. I need it to become relevant. I think a lot of the time people do want to pass over it because it's horrific and like it's not one of the several things Crosshair does wrong of his own free will. But it's also still something that he remembers doing, all of it, and I think it's pretty key to why he eventually tries to stay with the Empire. What do you do when you've done something so horrific, when maybe you've been told it wasn't your choice and it wasn't your fault but you still remember giving the order, you remember every sight and sound and smell, and you remember at the time it made so much sense to do it. You can even remember the reasoning you came up with to ease the way. What do you do when you've done something so bad that you think that the only way forward is with the people that forced it onto you in the first place?

Anyway fucked up that they gave that one soldier a flamethrower just so we know completely that those civilians were burned alive, that's great.

Back to Hunter thinking he has had this child for a day and a half and has already lost her on a deserted rock somewhere.

"Soldiers know the risks of battle" what about the risks of Crosshair because like Crosshair is the cause of 100% of his squad's fatalities through this season.

Crosshair in the cleaned out quarters with all of the doodles and marks still on the bunks, going to his own and everything that made it his has been cleared out of it. They even took his walls of boxes. Just completely alone in their old room with nothing but the reality of what he did. I wonder if guilt comes easier when they're not in battle.

AND JUST THE CONTRAST WITH THE ABSOLUTE SWEETNESS OF OMEGA GETTING HER OWN ROOM ON THE MARAUDER. MAKING A BEAUTIFUL AND WARM PLACE FOR HER THAT STANDS OUT FROM EVERYTHING ELSE.

SERIOUSLY MY HEART.

HER PRECIOUS FACE <3 God I do love this episode even though it wounds me in places.

[nick-of-mauville-fix-shop]

Hey, you!

This is the official blog for Mauville Fix Shop, the city's BEST electronics repair store for Pokédex devices, PokeNavs, Pokégears, Pokétches, and other devices! If you're in need of a fix for your tech, head on over to our store at 310 Violet Street today!

...

OK, now that my manager is satisfied with the draft, I can work on the actual post! I'm Nick Docomo (he/him), age 19.

I'm the designated account manager for Mauville Fix Shop's Tumblr blog since I'm already on here... a little bit much. Moving along, I also work on old-model Pokénav repairs part-time. Primarily, though, I'm a student at Mauville Technical College majoring in electrical engineering!

To top off my resume, I'm training to be the next Mauville gym leader under Swell Shock Wattson (look, he set that as his Trainer's Eyes title and I've gotta roll with it). My team right now is:

Day (♂) the Heliolisk: My starter and current strongest team member, Day is an incredible attacker when the sun's up! Very friendly out of battle, too.

Bhaskara the Heat Rotom: It would watch the world burn just out of curiosity of what happens after. I respect its commitment to science regardless. After being given a smart oven from Wattson (who incorrectly predicted it would talk), Wattson gifted it to me.

Amp (♀) the Raichu: I caught her as a Pikachu 2 years ago on a field trip to the Safari Zone. She's a crafty little Pokémon, which is sometimes good for me but not when she pranks me, the team, or anyone else really.

Ohm (♀) the Flaaffy: An old man working at the Day Care on Route 117 just gave me an egg 4 years ago and Ohm was the Mareep that ended up hatching. She's on the sterner side of things, but not hostile.

Jet (♀) the Fletchling: I noticed that as a Fire type specialist I have a lot of Electric types so I searched for a member of the Fletchling to tip the scales back to Fire. I caught Jet very recently, but her battle-hunger’s already on full display, especially when she wants to battle Day.

Other facts about me:

I'm 5'8", have black hair and brown eyes, and slightly tan skin.

I'm nearsighted as the planet is large. I don't like it, but it's not too bad when I have my glasses.

Screw Macro Cosmos, I support the right to repair!

I'm a member of my college's second-best trivia team as well as the college's best Voltorb Flip player!

Mauville Fix Shop has been offering free 1-year warranty on all Pokédexes repaired for students at our shop! (See I'm promoting the store, can't fire me for THAT!)

OOC: Hi, @punjab-official here on my debut Rotomblr blog! My pronouns are he/him (although any are fine), and I'm an adult. Like I said in the blog description, I will NOT be tagging for unreality, so here's another notice. If there's anything I missed that you need me to clarify, just send an ask or message!

This blog is fairly canon-flexible in that Nick will be able to interact with many other blogs’ canons, but Nick generally isn’t aware of whenever a person is a canon-outsider (in terms of Nick’s universe). About Nick’s own canon, the awakening of Primal Groudon and Kyogre hasn’t happened yet, and as such Nick may not take Teams Aqua and Magma seriously or be open to accepting them.

Whenever Nick says he’s a Fire type specialist, it’s for a type-specialty swap for Muse Mixup Madness (he usually considers himself an Electric type specialist).

I’m generally accepting of Pelipper mail, but on days that’s not the case I’ll post so here. In-character reblogs will be tagged as “ic reblog” and/or “nick reblogs”, and posts that will be relevant for a later story/post or will reveal an important aspect of Nick’s character will be tagged as “blog development”. “nick’s answers” will be for in-character answered asks.

And I have never once used the wrong blog. Ever. Totally not.

[lettersnorth]

The coffee was doing its job, both warming and waking Aislinn up. She couldn’t be sure how long she’d been at it in the storeroom, but then again, that was always the way of it. Rarely aware of her own physical needs until something pulled her from her work and she came up for air.

"How bad was his state?" Rhua asked out of the blue, glancing in Aislinn's direction. "You mentioned you could fix his damage, but. You're here right now." something she'd caught onto. And a reason to blame herself if she'd been a distraction from the urgency it carried.

Aislinn shifted a bit, like the weight on her shoulders had resettled and she was trying to make it somewhat bearable. “He’s a bit banged up.” It’s non-committal while still committing to the idea that things weren’t great. “Locomotion’s off, pieces of the tissue shell missing but it had already deployed a sealant to stop fluid leak. The repair unit should jump-start the tech in the tissue to start filling back in. Don’t ask me what’s in it. There’s a lot about the how and why of the design I don’t know. As far as internal workings, I won’t know until I let the diagnostics run. I like to do that before I go cracking him open.” She pushed off the table edge and held back from scrubbing a hand over her face. Instead, she gave Rhua her best calm and measured look. “But aye, I should get back and see how DOT’s getting on. I’ll keep you updated.”

After a beat, Aislinn spoke again, her voice gentling, "Most everything can be fixed, Rhua. Sergius made it in here on his own two feet. Just takes some patience and time." Probably. Maybe. She didn’t add that part. It looked like Rhua didn’t need Aislinn to share her self-doubt. She needed her to be the capable tech-wizard that could fix anything.

Rhua was silent for a time. She knew Aislinn was right. She was still mortified at the fact he'd made it back and she hadn't noticed until the drone gave her one of the handful of frights of her life. One part of her thought it had just been that bad, and worrying her wouldn't do anything. The other also thought it was that bad, that he hadn't had even the chance to send any pings. Neither really left room for hopeful thinking, like giving him a light scolding, joking about suplexing him halfway into the snow if he did something like that again, or being able to laugh it off if at all. "Bionics or any tech reminiscent of an organic being is not my specialty." she started, opting to still leave the offer open. "But. If there's anything I can do to help. .. Please, let me know.." a small plea really.

There was already too much on her plate, Jackal's presence had amped everything by keeping her on eternal edge. But even then, she couldn't just focus on work completely and wait for Sergius to be fixed just like that. "I. .. have many things I still need to do. Town's barely learning how to function without machines. But I'll still do what I can to go see him. 'Tis the least I could do even if he complains later about efficiency."

Aislinn hummed in the back of her throat. “Knowing Sergius, he probably would, too.” She agreed. “Town’s got to be putting a lot on you but aye, if I need a hand, I’ll check with you first.” She nodded. “But, remember. Eat. Sleep…” She trails off and ends up just shaking her head. “I can’t even say that with a straight face. Feel too much like a hypocrite. Right. Back to it.” She offered Rhua one last reassuring nod of her head before she headed out.

Rhua could only nod slowly as she offered a polite nod. She doubted she'd sleep until she collapsed, Aislinn was right. But at least there were two hypocrites in on this. As much as not going right away settled horribly with Rhua, she could trust Aislinn enough to try and help her friend. Heh. That label feels off. She wasn't exactly used to calling anyone that after all. But... It was back to work. She knew she'd at least make sure Aislinn had something to eat before showing up some time later.

[kazooie]

Things I am equally passionate about that I can't do because there's literally not enough time in the world and my ADHD and C-PTSD won't let me pick just one or two:

Video game development

3D modelling and animation

Making YouTube videos, especially video essays

Fursuit making, costume making in general

3D printing

Making silly little websites

Making ARGs or unfiction series through different medias

Raising animals, fostering/pet sitting tiny animals like rats, mice, reptiles, basically the animals that don't have many petsitting options

Self sustaining houses, living off the grid

Psychedelic assisted therapy, so I can stop being scared of my mum dying and me being all alone and maybe killing myself :') (I don't want to die but idk if I can live after that without a lot of help)

Just art. Drawing, painting, anything, I can't sit down and learn it because my brain says "there's no time", so despite art being incredibly important to me, I've never truly sat down and PRACTICED for more than a few hours

Making my room less shit so I don't feel trapped in my own bed

Tech repair, though this one is kind of going better than most of the list, I just need a microscope or jewelers microscope so I can actually see what I'm doing

Learning to travel without the fear of "if I leave for a few weeks, my pets will miss me, especially sunny, mum will be alone, and that'll be 3 weeks with all of them that I can never get back", this is why I need the MDMA therapy lol

Video game modding

Needle felting

I don't know how to be happy when I can't just pick a few passion projects, when I'm working on one all I think is "I should be working on a different one", not because I don't enjoy the one I'm currently working on but because I'm always, always running out of time, running out of time before mum dies and my life is over, running out of time before I die too, running out of time before someone else has the same idea as me which would make all my work a waste of precious time, despite the fact that I'm wasting time Every Day by not being able to do the things I want to do.

I genuinely don't know how to be happy and stick to a few projects and I'm tired and I'm getting old, I turn 33 next month, I'm tired and want to live.

[jonfarreporter]

A Persian Carpet is A Sustainable Carpet

In our increasingly ubiquitous disposable-item high tech culture, a Persian rug seems like an out-of-place antique. Yet for the “sustainability-conscious” a Persian carpet is not just a treasure it’s an investment.

“You are buying more than just a rug, said Ataullah Khoja, you are buying a work of art alive with the stories of the region and the people who make them.”

Khoja was in town during the past weekend of Sept 15 at the Sonoma Valley Women’s Club on First Street, East selling dozens of some of the most opulent Persian rugs available.

Owner of Access Rugs - Hand-knotted Rugs, Inc. of Berkeley, Khoja explained. “family owned and operated business. For the past 22 years, we have been collecting a wide variety of hand-made rugs, from Central Asia.

“All of our products are hand-made and authentic. And, each has it’s own cultural value,” said Khoja.

The main entrance as well as the reception hall of SVWC was filled with some of the most exquisitely made rugs.

“It is our desire to help promote and preserve our cultural heritage, said Khoja as he ignored a call on his cell phone to answer a few questions as The Sonoma Index-Tribune stopped by on Monday to take a look. Even the porch outside the Women’s Club was covered with Persian rugs; passersby couldn’t miss it.

Operating as a direct rug importer and rug supplier, Khoja and his family-owned company has had the privilege of working with many businesses across the country. In addition to providing his customers/clients with exceptional hand made rugs, Khoja also provides rug services.

And that includes rug cleaning and rug repair. “It has been an important part of our operation,” said Khoja.

Emphasizing the “investment” aspect to a Persian rug as art, according to James Barclay of London, who also deals with Persian rugs, it’s value is in the craftsmanship and authenticity. As he and his team notes the appeal of Persian rugs the world over, Barclay said.

“As rug specialists, our business here in London is built upon traditional methods of hand cleaning and hand repairing fine and antique rugs, carpets and tapestries as well as carefully sourced products that are akin to the original materials used when your rug was made.”

“This not only retains the authenticity (even with imperfections) of your rug, said Barclay but also assist the rug to keep it’s value, look and feel from when it was originally made.”

Pointing out the longevity of Persian Rugs, the BBC reported in 2017 that the ‘Pazyryk carpet’ discovered in Siberia in the 1920s is the earliest example of one of the oldest Persian carpets, dating as far back as the 5th Century BC.

With Sonoma being able to produce some of the most delicious wines, a Persian carpet in a tasting room would certainly be a nice addition with considerable cache and panache for the status-conscious.

Yet as Khoja said enthusiastically of his business and company. “We will continue to be that source of knowledge and education from that part of the world, with it’s rich history and culture.”

Buying a Persian carpet from Khoja is making a connection to skilled artists, craftsman and artisans that make works of art that will last beyond one’s lifetime. If that isn’t sustainability at its best, what else is?

“Today, Monday is our last day here in Sonoma until next year” Khoja said. “But I invite anyone who wants to know about Persian rugs to visit me and my shop in Berkeley,” he said.

To learn more about Persian rugs or to find out when Khoja will return to Sonoma, visit his company’s website.

[the-fandom-crossroads]

I know Disability Pride Month is almost over but I decided I wanted to share some of my Disabled OCs. Specifically the one's with physical disabilities as all of them have some sort of mental disability. AKA I have ADHD and physically can't write characters with a normal brain cause i still don't understand how those work.

Disclaimer! I am not personally an amputee and I don't currently require mobility aids. So if my descriptions of scifi versions of these aids are missing something you think a scifi version Must have. I apologize.

Feel free to share your Own disabled OCs in the reblogs!

-line break-

Deaf Ship Maintenance Tech (They/Them)

Universe: Star Wars

Born in the Clone Wars Era this kid grew up under the thumb of the Empire. They've always wanted to fly ships but settles for working in a ship yard. The Empire nor the Rebellion want them. The Droid binary to text screens are deemed to be to slow of a way to translate comm chatter between ships in the middle of an emergency. And fellow crew members would literally need all hands to navigate those situations and wouldn't have time to pause to sign orders.

I like to think they eventually join a civilian crew and become it's solo repair tech. The ship gets it's lights upgraded to RGB so instead of just changing colors for a red alert they have other alerts too. A civilian ship is rarely getting into dog fights (unless it's secretly a rebel ship) and the Techs job would be to focus on any damage the ships computer reads out and determine what needs to be fixed then and there.

Communication wise they know BSL Basic Sign Language and the 1's and 0's of binary even if they can't hear the beeps of it, and can speak basic but rarely do. Working in a ship yard it is assumed there are loud noises around that would drown out their voice. Their work goggles have a prototype version of the ship lights alerts installed. They light up and then dim when a message is coming through the comms. This gives them enough time to look at their wrist comm to text screen as the message comes through. The Yard Manager has a custom color to warn them the message is urgent.

-line break-

Double Amputee Black Market Android Doctor (She/Her)

Universe: Detroit become human, but it also fits cyberpunk 2077 just fine

She was working her way up to being a legit Android medical professional up until an accident in college cost her, her legs. On her way to getting her cybernetic replacements she learns how corrupt the system truly is and decides to go without the replacements. She finishes college but instead of working for one of the big companies she goes off the grid. She instead repairs deviant androids in the city and is the only Doctor any of them trust.

She's sort of a Doctor meets Hacker since the companies go the John Deer approach to right to repair. Making it impossible to fix any code related virus' without knocking down a few firewalls.

She has two chairs. A smaller one for use in her apartment that's more like a computer chair with a roomba for legs aka omniwheels that just needs a remote control joystick to move through the apartment in all 4 directions. And a larger more traditional one for leaving her apartment. This one is the super scifi tricked out one that basically has an entire computer strapped to the back of the chair to allow for on location hacking. can switch from self propelled to motorized with steering attached to each arm rest like some mowers.

-line break-

Last one is a Mute Druid Cleric (They/them, He/Him)

Universe: Fantasy, but the ttrpg side of fantasy

This one isn't as well fleshed out, but think Little Mermaid meets Sandman from Rise of the Guardians. In making a packed with his god for more magic he gave up his voice. Druids are known to be able to entrance people when they speak so losing their voice is cutting them off from half of their spells. But the deal does double his magical reserves for other spells and he develops simple image illusions like Sandman for easier communication. Allowing the party to communicate with NPCs that don't speak common and none of them know the language of. Also allowed for silent party communication during stealth missions.

They cast spells based on hand signs and ancient runes. He also had a telepathic link with his patron deity so he could call upon it for boosts to his current spell casting.

-line break-

Like I said these aren't All of my disabled OCs. just the ones that stuck out off the top of my head. For example I was in a Sci-Fi table top campaign and I slipped a prosthetic leg into her character sheet design. But the campaign didn't go passed 2 sessions and so it wasn't brought up. The character also just sounds like a mesh of the first two and I didn't want it to seem like a rehash.

But what do you guys think of these guys? If there's anything I got wrong in my wording or is an unhelpful stereotype. Please kindly leave a correction in the comments. I love to learn about this stuff and I never want to speak over someone who has actual experience with these disabilities.

But please feel free to describe your own disabled OCs! I feel like Disabled OCs should be discussed just like canon disabled rep is discussed during this month. That normalizing disabled OCs can be just as helpful at making fandom spaces inclusive.

[fictional-men-ruin-lives]

Come back (Crosshair x Jedi!Reader)

Part 1

Happening somewhen after the debt was paid back to Cid. Reader is a former Jedi who has worked with the Bad Batch during the Clone Wars and joined them again after Order 66.

Warnings: a bit of angst? other than that nothing but some swearing

Word count: 1.3k

Be ready for a lengthy story as I’m not known to make any of my one shots short

____________________________________________________________

“You know what? Fuck you, Hunter.” You spat out, unable to hold in your anger any longer. All this time you’ve been patient, understood, that there were more pressing matters like removing their inhibitor chips and then escaping the chase, getting Omega back from the bounty hunters. Hell, even being in debt.

You absolutely got that.

However, when all the Bad Batch has been focusing on lately had been to get other bounty missions done, get more money in the pocket while the elephant in the room remained unaddressed, the annoyance and disbelief kept building up in you. Snapping at one point was inevitable. It wasn’t like you haven’t touched on the topic multiple times already, several of them ending up in arguing with Hunter. All you’ve ever gotten were cheap excuses or a more pressing matters to address interrupting you.

Not this time.

“Listen, we’re not prepared for a rescue mission like this.” Sergeant tried to deflect it yet again while rubbing the bridge of his nose, earning a scoff from you. As if you haven’t heard that excuse before.

“Like we were ready for any of the rescue missions involving anybody else before. Echo. Omega. But you don’t even try to pretend like you care about Crosshair. We left him. Multiple times!”

Hunter stepped closer, towering over you and you could tell you stroke a cord right there. His eyes were full of anger, but you couldn’t care less. You were alone with him on the Marauder as Wrecker went with Omega to get some snacks after mission and Echo accompanied Tech to get new parts to repair the equipment. It was just you and Hunter.

“Don’t you dare say I don’t care.” His voice deepened as he was trying to control his emotions, his eyes boring into yours from underneath his furrowed eyebrows. If there was one thing Hunter hated, it was being deemed careless about his own team.

“Oh, but I think I just did.” You said mockingly.” And you know what? I’m fucking done. I’m just done. You changed. You’d never leave anyone behind but now…” you exhaled, resigned, as your voice lowered a bit, a smile appearing on your face as you shot a glance to the side quickly” Now I don’t think I know you anymore.” calming down, you just turned around to get to the sleeping area and collect your things. Arguing with him was going to be a waste of time as always, you’d much rather spend it on figuring out how to get to Crosshair and get him back in one piece. Kneeling, you were putting the spare clothes and your own tools in a backpack.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Hunter went after you, his armored body blocking the exit as he stood in the doorframe. “I know you and he were close, but we can’t do anything. He’s gone and surrounded by countless troopers and I’m not going to risk Omega. He’s way too dangerous.” At that the new wave of fury rushed over you as you stood up from the ground and turned to him, your voice way too intense, full of cold spite.

“Do you have any idea why we’re all still alive?” You took one step towards Hunter.” Because his shots miss. And Crosshair never misses.” One more step and you were right in front of him, in his face again. This time, however, he wasn’t towering over you as you stood confidently, challengingly spitting words in a low voice, speaking faster with every sentence.” I don’t care what it takes. I really don’t. Cross is there and he needs us, more than ever and do or think whatever you want to calm your conscience, but I can’t let it go on like this.” With a swift motion of your hand, you moved him away with the Force and proceeded to the exit from the Marauder.

“Enjoy your bounty hunting.” You threw over your shoulder and raised your hand in a goodbye as your steps led you to the city. You raised the comm to your face, calling for Tech to meet you at Cid’s as soon as possible. If you were to find Cross, the fastest way was through him.

“You sounded quite serious over the comm, what do you need my help with?” Tech’s voice brought you back from the deep thoughts that have taken over you as you were waiting for him. Fortunately, you managed to cool off while waiting for him and just felt… numb now. You smiled at the clone as he sat beside you by the bar, his eyes full of anticipation.

“I need you to tap into the Imperial communication channels, especially ones with orders and assignments for the troopers.” He glanced at your feet where your backpack lay, then quickly at your face before taking the holopad from you and focusing on it.

“Crosshair, I assume.” Tech stated as he was tinkering with the device. Your silence was the only confirmation he needed. “Hunter won’t risk Omega in this, the situation is too unpredictable to go in without…”

“I know, Tech.” you interrupted him, not wanting to have to listen another one of the Batch saying the same thing.

“… a proper and detailed plan. However, it’s not impossible if Crosshair is going to be able to fight the inhibitor chip as he’s done so far.” You looked up surprised as Tech finished the interrupted sentence, and your eyes met his briefly. He shrugged. “What? His accuracy rate is at 98.4 percent when he has time to prepare, 92 percent if he’s on the move. I’d assume it would be the safest for you out of all of us, considering the type of your… relationship.” Your heart skipped a beat, unwillingly recalling all the now painful, seemingly far away memories. The playful bickering with Crosshair, how he’d put his hand on your shoulder as he leaned over to grab something, the quick stolen glances when you were still a Jedi, his warm breath on your neck as he… You missed him. You missed him so much.

Hell, you even missed finding toothpicks in all the most impossible places.

Was he alright? The last you’ve seen him; he was chasing after the Marauder once you escaped Bracca. He had been so close to the engine firing up, it pained you to even think about what it could have done to him. Unconsciously, you hugged your arms to find some warmth and comfort. Just how much did Crosshair have to go through till now? What things was he forced to do? He was completely alone, too.

“… and I’m going to talk with Hunter later on.” You caught only the end of what Tech has been saying this whole time. You focused on him again, brushing off the feelings as well as you could and smiled at him weakly. Fortunately, he was too busy with tinkering with the device to really notice your distraction.

“Thank you, Tech. Really. If you don’t mind, I need to go talk to Cid.” He nodded and you stood up, heading to the back of the cantina where you knew the Trandoshan would be.

Getting a small ship was easy enough, considering you had two lightsabers and the black-market demand for them was quite high considering the fall of the Jedi order. Trading one for a functioning Mankvim-814 with some supplies and Cid allowing you to get a small debt for the supplies didn’t take a long time. Fortunately for you, someone has just placed an order for the weapon and getting rid of one of them had its advantages- it was well-known that the Jedi would never willingly part with their lightsabers and having yours circulating around created a possibility of you being considered dead.

After all, your lightsabers were your life.

_____________________________________

Next part

Taglist: @allamarisss​

[twotapbuz]

The leader and a body guard(Rin x reader)

(Sorry this took so long, school sucked all of my motivation away. You can find the rest of the series here: Eloni )

warning: violence, slight angst with a happy ending

Sometime after the rock revolution, Neon J decided to leave for a 3-week vacation

This meant that you and your coworkers would need to report to Rin

The first couple of days were difficult because Rin didn’t seem to care about the reports and would flirt with whoever was giving him the report

It wasn’t till week two that things began to spiral

1010 had been in the middle of a performance when a fight broke out in the crowd

You jumped out of where you were standing to help control the crowd

You assessed the damage after everything calmed down

The venue + stage was partially destroyed, Purl-Hew lost his glasses and an eye, Haym lost an arm, Zimelu and Eloni’s faces were cracked, and Rin was missing

Rin was missing

This was bad news as the factory still hadn’t been repaired yet which meant that he couldn’t be brought back until Neon J came back

And if Neon J found out that you lost a member of 1010, you and your co-workers would be fired

So your group split into two parts, one half would take Zimelu, Haym, Purl- Hew, and Eloni back to Barraca Mansion while the other half would search for Rin

You were placed into the latter

It had been nearly an hour since Rin was discovered missing and there still was no sign of him. You were definitely going to get fired. While the concert was in Cast Tech, you along with several others were sent to search Metro Division in case he simply went back to Baraca Mansion without telling anyone. You were about to head back when you heard the sound of crashing metal. 

“Hello, is anyone there?” You didn’t mean to say anything, but you were caught off guard. Against your better judgment, you began to walk towards that alley. You were desperate to find him after all.

“Stay back! RETREAT!” shouted a panicked autotuned voice. It was Rin.

“Rin? Is that you? Are you ok?” you rushed down the alley to find Rin hiding next to a dumpster.

“Don’t look at me!” Rin was trying to cover the right side of his face with his arm.

“What? Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah! Do not worry about me, I’ll make it back fine,” Rin tried to stand up, still covering his face, but immediately fell back down because his leg was missing.

“Look… everyone’s worried about you and you won’t be able to make it back by yourself with that leg,” you gestured at Rin’s broken leg. Please let me help you, I know some shortcuts.” You offered your arm. Rin hesitantly lifted his hand for his face and grabbed your hand for support. The metal that covered the right side of her face was gone, revealing the damaged hardware underneath.

You involuntarily flinched, he may not have been human, but it was still pretty jarring to look at something that looked like a person who was missing part of their face. Rin also flinched, covering his missing face with both of his hands now.

“I’m so sorry about that”, you rubbed your neck, “I just… well I didn’t expect the injury to be that bad.”

“You aren’t going to scream, are you?

“What? No, I'm very sorry about that. Besides I’ve seen way worse” you joked, trying to release the tension. Rin hesitantly uncovered his face once again and grabbed your hand and pulled himself up. The two of you dodged the groups of people walking through Metro Divison.

As the two of you were walking through, you couldn’t help but wonder about Rin’s reaction when it suddenly hit you, 1010 got severely injured during the rock revolution. One of these injuries included all of them losing their faceplates. Their fans unsurprisingly freaked out which caused 1010 to explode due to some protocol Neon J must’ve implemented. Your heart sank when you realized Rin’s reaction wasn’t because he was worried about his image, but he was scared of you screaming and what would follow afterward.

——————

After that incident, Rin seemed to act differently towards you. He took you more seriously and listened to your reports

Even after Neón J came back, Rin still came to you for your reports

Probably just practice for when Neón j retires, you thought

As the weeks passed, the time spent on the casual chats you had increased to the point you’d forgot to give him the actual report several times

“And that’s how we got Quienne and Bebe.” Rin had just finished telling you the story of how they got their cats by Haym and Eloni smuggling them in through a box. This was one of many of the 'behind the scenes stories' that Rin had told you. While they didn’t act that much different when they weren’t on camera or in front of a crowd, it was nice to be trusted enough to hear about their personal lives.

“So what about you?”

“Hm?”

“Do you have any good stories? I don’t think it’s fair if I tell all of my secrets after all~.” Rin teased

“Well, I do have one. I was at a dance audition and waiting for my turn to perform and this dude that was performing was pretty much a circus act. He was doing all these frontflips and backflips and it was just crazy. Wish I had recorded it.”

“You used to be a performer? How come you stopped?” Rin curiously asked.

“Nah, I never made it past the first round of auditions. I didn't really mind since I only entered to support a friend.” You sipped on your coffee

“That’s a shame.” Rin paused for a moment. “You know I could always offer you lessons.”

 “that's really nice, but I’ll have to decline. No amount of practice can fix these two left feet.” You looked at the clock, realizing half an hour had passed. You quickly said your goodbye and left to avoid getting into trouble. Rin watched your back as he left, unsure why he couldn’t take his eyes off you.

——————

Rin was walking to his dressing room when he saw you walking alongside several other security staff. As rude as it sounded, Rin normally wouldn’t think twice about the people he worked with. Most staff would either quit from being harassed by crazy 1010 fans or get fired for secretly being 1010 fans who used the job to get access to 1010 content, or worse, 1010 themselves. Rin shuddered as memories of one of the many incidents came back. Rin could count on both of his hands the amount of current staff that has been working for over a year and you were one of them. Rin began to think about the early part of his career when he and his family would actively engage with the staff, talking about both of their personal lives and inviting them over to hang out in the mansion. He and his brothers stopped interacting with the staff after the high turnover started. What was the point of talking with them if they were going to quit and avoid 1010 like the plague or get fired and be avoided by 1010 like the plague. He was glad that he could talk to you. He also liked the sound of your voice and how your eyes sparkled brighter than the LEDs that lit up him and his brothers. Rin blushed at the last thoughts. The sound of your voice and the sparkle of your eyes? It’s not like he was in love with you or anything. He was technically your boss and your relationship was completely professional. Yeah, your interactions were one of his favorite parts of his day and your smile would always brighten his day, but even if he was in love with you(which he is not) there’s still the challenge of gaining the approval of his family and having to deal with his fan’s harassment. He couldn’t let you go through that. Though Rin couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to talk with you outside of work…even go on a couple dates… maybe he was in love afterall.

——————

You walked past Rin and smiled. Despite your attempts, you fell for Rin's charm just like his fans did and it took you no time to notice this. You knew you were never going to say anything, afterall, everyone knows the rule about not dating coworkers and Rin can choose practically anyone, why would he pick you?

——————

It was the first concert after the rock revolution

The fans were extra antsy due to the lack of content, so it was all hands on deck

You were positioned on the front of the stage

This concert was no different than the previous ones, 1010 were performing, a couple of their fans attempted to jump on the stage, and you could barely hear your own thoughts over the mix of music and cheering. Suddenly both of those stopped. You looked at the stage and so 1010 standing still in mid-performance. You were told about this situation during training: it was either a malfunction or a hacking. You prayed that it wasn’t the latter. 1010 suddenly began to move in sync, but it was different from their normal in sync movement. You saw two fans get tackled to the ground as a red saw blade passed them at what would’ve been chest height. Your radio buzzed loudly as you were given your new orders:

“Get everyone out of there.”

It was chaos as you rushed around to get everyone out of the venue. Those with superhuman abilities(pyrokinesis, levitation, etc) stayed behind to prevent 1010 from leaving the venue. Despite not having any abilities, you stayed behind too. You were running around in the back looking for anyone who still might be there when the rubble from an explosion behind you knocked you to the ground. You quickly got up and saw Rin towering over Neon J. Without thinking, you quickly grabbed a nearby pipe that came from the newly busted wall and smashed it over Rin’s head. This managed to stop his attack, but it also brought his attention to you. He suddenly ran towards you, grabbed you, and threw you against the wall. Your consciousness began to fade in and out as your head collided with the wall. You saw Rin approaching you, then darkness, Rin raising his arm to strike, darkness again, Rin being pulled away by Neón J, darkness again, the inside of an ambulance, and then nothing.

——————

You woke up in a hospital room. Your eyes scanned the room: on your right was a monitor accompanied by an IV drip. On your left was a small table with flowers, a get-well balloon, a couple cards, and a Rin with a worried face sitting on one of the chairs of the room. Rin noticed you were awake and quickly rushed before stopping unsure of what to do.

“Y/N” Rin said, unsure of what to do or say

“Rin”

“Y/N… I’m so sorry about what happened- I didn’t want to-I couldn’t stop- if there’s anything I can do to make it up to you-” Rin began to stutter out of guilt. He kept making sentences but giving up on them and starting new ones.

“Rin, please” Rin paused and looked at you. “It’s not your fault, I know you would never do this” the two of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity before you continued, “You know... if the offers still up… I’d be happy to accept those dance lessons when I get discharged." Rin began to smile

“Yeah, the offers still up”

——————

Neon J walked through the hospital’s halls. For the past two weeks, he had been personally escorting Rin to your hospital room. He knew Rin felt responsible for your injuries so he didn’t object to this despite the possible security risks(he couldn't keep his boys locked up). He had heard from Rin that you had woken up and he was glad that you were ok, but he had to cut your visitor time short due to an interview that all 1010 members must be present for. He walked into your room to find the two of you sleeping with Rin’s head on your lap. 

“It’ll be fine if Rin misses one interview.” Neon J thought as he closed the door. He also began to wonder how long it will be before Rin introduces you officially to the family.

[loth-wolffe]

Midnight warmth

Pairing: Tech x reader (no y/n)

Summary: you try (not really) to convince your workaholic lover to come to bed, but instead end up joining him on the chilly floor of the Marauder to keep him company.

Warnings: none but fluffy stuff that will rot your teeth.

Word count: 1k aprox

A/n: to the anon asked me for something with tech a while ago, I completely forgot about it (sorry) and I wrote this and checked my request list just before proofreading and saw the request so, sweet anon, my love, this goes for you. i hope you still, and I quote, love tech as much as you can and are low (high) key pinning for him too. love u bubs, wherever you are.

The night was cold, not too much, but enough to make you leave your bed with the blanket over your shoulders, seeking for a particular someone to help you get warm. The blanket was, but you missed him.

Steps being muffled by your socks it's what lets him know you're up, a soft smile appearing into his lips as he finds you, sleepy eyes, and disheveled hair, your pijamas were basically one of his shirts and a short that was covered by the length of his blacks and the view made butterflies flutter uncontrollably in his chest.

"Hey." You greet, coming to place the blanket on his shoulders, his eyes going back to the task at hand on the floor of the Marauder, which was repairing Wrecker's blaster.

"Hello." He replies after a low thank you leave his lips, you kiss his cheek, his head titling slightly just so you don't have to lean down too much even though the action doesn't really help.

You look how his fingers move as they work, mesmerized for a second before remembering what you came for.

"Are you coming to bed?" You place your hand on his shoulder, settling the blanket better on his body, Tech's eyes doesn't leave the blaster.

"In a minute," but it's always more than a minute, finding something else to keep his mind on, not because he doesn't want to be with you, but because his mind is always going two miles a minute and he needs to keep it busy, "I just need to finish repairing this and I'll be on my way."

You let out a little oh, taking a seat beside him and he moves just a bit to make more space for you, pushing some tools to the side so they don't bother you, you smile.

"What are you doing?" He asks, pausing a moment to look at you as you start to lower yourself, brown eyes trying to find the answer in your face, chuckling you finally come to rest your head on his thigh. His face casts down at you and you give him a radiant smile that makes him feel dizzy, he doesn't wait for an answer as he tries to cover you with the blanket as well, your legs were mostly exposed but you didn't mind the chilly air nor the cold floor as long as you were with him.

"Waiting for you, silly." You say, as if the most obvious thing in the world, and he feels slightly taken aback, still getting used to the simplest acts of love you perform for him every day and wondering how is it that he got so lucky. "What are you doing?"

He looks a bit shy for a moment, eyes flickering to the tools before they go back to your own, the beginning of a smile make the corners of his lips lift upwards. Tech pushes his goggles back but it's no use as they move back to the end of the bridge of his nose as he looks back down at you, you giggle, his smile widening at the sound.

"Well..." he says after a moment before starting a rant about what's the exact problem with Wrecker's blaster, how he's supposed to rapire it and what's he currently doing.

Your eyes start feel heavy, and you don't know if it's because you don't understand half of the things he said or because the sound of his voice soothes you as if it were the softest lullaby. Probably both.

"That sounds like fun." You mumble, even if it doesn't, but he appreciates it with a hum and a light peck on your lips, eyes shining bright behind his goggles with a little something you can't quite place.

"It is." It's a simple statement, and the surprise that comes with the next one is one that you like to come back to sometimes, fluttering heart beating for him and you find yourself falling harder when he goes, "but it's more fun now that you're around."

There is something in his voice, maybe it's how small he sounded, or the honesty that was dripping from the words as they rolled down his tongue, but the feeling they brought, like a scream that wanted to leave your lungs, like a rush of emotions, of happiness and love, that wants to get out just to soak him full with everything he makes you feel.

You smile softly, touched by his words.

"Nice to know." It's all you say, and all you need to, really, a silent conversation that lets him know you feel the same happen fast between your eyes.

You cuddle up to him, forehead almost touching his tummy, hand coming to wrap around your shoulders as he moves slightly to keep working in what must be an uncomfortable position, but as long as he doesn't care, you suppose its fine.

"Do you mind if I stay?"

"Not really," he replies quickly, "as you should know, I quite enjoy your company." You smirk, never leaving the sight above you, a slight frown in concentration covered by his goggles, tongue darting just a little from between his lips, sharp jawline and cheekbones looking even sharper with the shadows, skin seeming lighter and yet warmer under the bright illumination.

"Quite, huh?"

He spares you a quick glance.

"Well, more like a lot." You chuckle lightly, and he gives you a warm smile, you could swear his cheeks taint with a soft pink, but you're not too sure as your eyes close with the feeling of lips pressing against your forehead.

You try to chase for his touch, humming again in content, words blurring in your mind as sleep clouds it whole.

"I don't mind if you fall asleep, either."

"You don't?"

"Of course not, you'll need your energy tomorrow," he says matter-o-factly, eyes squinting as he brings the blaster close to his face, "I wouldn't want you get hurt just because you couldn't focus for staying up too late."

You nod, not being able to fight him on the matter even if he was staying up late too, instead nuzzling closer to him, forehead against the soft fabric of his pajamas, and he tugs your blanket enough to cover most of your back.

"Tech?" He hums in acknowledgement, "I too enjoy your company a lot."

You hear him chuckle, a soft sound that disappears into the night as quickly as it came, he murmurs a sleep tight, and there's the ghost of a smile on your lips as you let slumber wash over you.

taglist: @foodandbooksplease @dottiechan @ladykatakuri @tacticalsparkles @lightning-wolffe @hellothere-generalangsty @beskarprincessjenny @badbatch-simp24 @milppa @obi-bae-kenobi @baroclinicinstability @murdertoothpick @ahsoka1 @kybacrystal @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @amaryllis23

[sunmoonandeddie]

feelings are fatal (18/24)

pairing: bucky barnes x reader, past steve rogers x reader

word count: 3,655

summary: After the events of Endgame, you struggle to come to terms with what you’ve lost, though you’re learning that you still have something to gain.

chapter warnings: swearing, violence, being stood up

masterlist

a/n: This is part two of my blog birthday surprise!

Bucky’s face was set in a fierce scowl as he stormed into the new Compound, fighting every urge he had to punch a hole into the wall with his vibranium fist.

Actually, no. He’d use his flesh one. Just to prove he fucking could.

And just because he needed to get out some anger.

Except, he didn’t think it would diminish the fury he felt.

Because yeah, he was fucking pissed. He was pissed at himself, he was pissed at you for listening to him (which just came back to being pissed at himself), and he was pissed at every fucking bad guy that had dared to ever cross his path.

“Bucky? Buck!” Sam called out when he saw him enter. He’d been on a run and his phone had been off, so he had no idea about what had happened. “Buck, man, what’s going on?” He asked as he wiped the sweat from his brow, running after him.

“They got her,” Bucky said, his voice a low growl.

The way that Sam’s heart sank inside of his chest was written across his face. “No. No. Fuck.” He fell into stride with Bucky immediately. “Tell me what happened. Every detail.”

Everything in Bucky’s head was going haywire. All his therapy appointments, everything Dr. Raynor had ever told him disappeared.

Because all that mattered was getting you back, and he didn’t care who the fuck he had to hurt to do it.

So he did his best to lay out everything just as it had happened, though he didn’t go into… full detail about your little attempt to hide in some random van. His protectiveness reared his head at the thought of spilling the details of what you two had done in private.

A gentleman never kisses and tells, after all.

Especially not if he wanted to kiss and kiss again.

And, oh, did he wanna kiss again.

But he wouldn’t get to unless he got you back.

“Okay, first things first, we need to call the whole team in,” Sam said, already calling out to FRIDAY to alert everyone.

“I can’t think. I can’t think. I CAN’T THINK!” Bucky screamed, his face red as his flesh fist hit a glass window that looked out onto the gym. He barely even recognized that it had shattered, or that there were now agents looking at him like he was crazy.

“UNCLE BUCKY!”

Freezing in his tracks, his heart stopped when he saw Morgan running towards him, holding her stuffed Iron Man plush. “H-Hey… Hey, Morgan,” he said as he crouched down, catching the littlest Stark in his arms. “Did you guys all make it home safe?”

The little girl’s hands fisted in his shirt as she held onto him. “Yeah, but mama said all my friends and everyone is gonna stay the night here,” she mumbled into his shoulder.

Bucky knew what that meant. Pepper thought it was too dangerous for them to go home.

“Uncle Bucky, where’s Auntie?” Morgan asked after a moment, pulling back to look at him with those eyes that were just like her father’s.

“She is… She’s…” Bucky broke off, not sure how to tell her. How could he tell her that he’d failed her? He hadn’t kept you safe. “We’re going to get her back, okay? And she’s gonna be safe and sound.”

She nodded, her lower lip wobbling. “C-Can you give this to her when you find her?” She asked, her voice barely audible as she held out the Iron Man plush. “S-She didn’t have it with her when she went missing…”

“You know what, Mo? You’re so very right,” he said as he squeezed her close. Kissing her forehead, he fought back a wave of tears. “And I bet she’d really appreciate soft pillows in her room and maybe some homemade cookies when she gets back. Do you think you and your friends would be willing to make some cookies?”

The little girl needed something to focus on for the time being, and it was the least he could do. If she didn’t have something… Well. He really didn’t think she’d be able to handle losing you so soon after losing both Natasha and her father.

Though he didn’t think any of them would survive it if you were hurt beyond repair.

As soon as she was gone, the pissed off look came back over his face.

“Bucky?” Wanda breathed out as she entered, holding Vision’s hand. “What happened?”

“She was taken from the Coney Island aquarium,” Sam said, already having booted up all the tech that could possibly help them find you.

The witch looked horrified, her eyes focused on the super soldier. Like she was reading his mind, seeing the memories and what he’d gone through just earlier that day. Felt the anguish that he’d felt when he’d realized she wasn’t at their meeting spot. “Well… Guess that means we’re just gonna have to get her back.”

The doors suddenly opened, and everyone turned to see Steve Rogers storming in, Peggy following close behind.

“Where the hell is she?” The elderly man demanded, looking livid.

“We came as soon as Pepper called,” Peggy said, unable to keep up with the aging super soldier.

A frown covered Sam’s face as he glanced at Bucky. “Did you know Pepper called them?”

He shook his head, his fists clenching. He didn’t know where this was going, but he didn’t like it. At all.

Sure enough, Steve was still barreling straight for him. “What the fuck did you do?!” He shouted as he shoved at his former best friend. “Huh?! Where is she?! How the fuck could you lose her?!”

That… That shame, that self-loathing, was rising higher and higher in Bucky’s chest. Even as Steve was shoving and spitting at him in his anger—still incredibly strong even for his age—he didn’t fight back.

Because he was right. He’d lost you. It was his fault.

“HEY! HEY!” Sam shouted as he got between them and pushed back at Steve, making him stumble back away from him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! How fucking dare you. You don’t get to fucking yell at him like that.” He was staring him down, unwavering.

And Bucky had realized it before, but it was hitting him all over again just how much he loved Sam, and just how much Sam loved him. They might not say it much, but they were best friends.

Sam believed in him, trusted him, even when Bucky couldn’t trust himself.

Even when Bucky was possibly at fault for losing you.

Steve looked shocked, blue eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Peggy had gone silent beside him.

“You don’t get to say shit when she almost died because of you. How many times did you send her out on her own when we were on the run without telling anyone else?” Sam bit out, half turned towards Steve and half turned towards Bucky. “Did you ever tell him about the other times? After we dropped Bucky off in Wakanda so he could get Hydra’s programming out of his head?”

Tensing up, Bucky’s eyes flickered between the two. “What do you mean? What other times?” He took a step towards Steve. “It was just the grocery run time, right? And you… you told me it wouldn’t happen again. You just weren’t thinking.”

Everyone except for Sam was looking at Steve in alarm, in horror. They knew that he’d neglected you for his Captain America duties, but sending you into dangerous situations on your own more than once?

“You said you wouldn’t say anything,” Steve said, his tone even as he glanced down at the ground and then back up.

“No, I told her that I wouldn’t say anything because she begged Natasha and me not to. Because she loved you enough to wanna protect you, to hide the shitty way you treated her. Because she knew how your friendship with Bucky would suffer if he knew what you did,” Sam shot back. “But you know what? You don’t deserve protecting anymore.” Running his hands over his head, his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. His deep, earthy brown eyes were glassy as he stared at the man that he’d followed into the line of fire, the man that he’d become a criminal for. “And just because we’ve forgiven you for abandoning us, for abandoning her, doesn’t mean we’ve forgotten. You better check yourself before you ever come at any one of us again like that again.”

Bucky knew how much Sam considered you a part of his family, having taken you to visit his own family in New Orleans. And Steve should’ve remembered that Sam defended the people he loved tooth and nail.

Sometimes he just forgot that he was included on that list.

He pulled the man away from the group of people and into a random tech room, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, voice trembling. “I… Thank you. For defending me.”

“Hey, man,” Sam said quietly as he seemed to peer right into his soul. “I know we had a rough start, but you’re my best friend. And shit, you’ve done the same for me before…” He eyed him for a moment, leaning back against a desk. “We’re gonna find her, you know. There’s nowhere we won’t look, no stone that won’t get unturned.”

Bucky sniffed as he suddenly felt a wave of despair come over him. “What if we never do? What if… What if I’ve lost her forever?” The centurion let out a broken sob as he fell to his knees, the pain taking over his body. “Oh, God… Oh, God… S-Sammy, I can’t lose her again. I can’t do it, I won’t survive.”

The handsome man immediately crouched in front of him, grabbing his face. “Hey! Hey!” He said sternly, getting him to look into his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep blaming yourself, and yeah, I know that’s all that’s been going through your head because you always blame yourself.” Sam took in a deep breath, intentionally sucking Bucky into their usual panic exercise where they worked to match their breathing. “So, what we’re gonna do is we’re gonna take a few minutes to calm down, okay? And then, once we’ve gathered ourselves, we’re gonna figure out where our girl is and we’re gonna kick any asses that even try to get in the way of us bringing her home.”

“Tonight was… Tonight was fun,” you said softly as you stepped into the cold, dark lobby of the Avengers Tower. The flower stall was shut down, as well as the coffee shop. The night guard stationed to your right gave a small nod of acknowledgement as you two headed for the elevator.

It was late. Really late.

But it had been a really good eleventh date, and you hadn’t wanted to go home, and neither had Steve, and so you two had gone from dinner and a movie to a late night stroll through Central Park. For your first date in public, it had gone… really well.

Of course, you could’ve done without the constantly being stopped by random people so they could get a selfie or an autograph from Captain America.

That was the price you paid, though. And considering how well the date went, you supposed you couldn't complain.

Though, you didn’t blame them. Steve was… beautiful. More than beautiful.

Sometimes you could ignore the aching in your heart that you felt for someone else when you were looking into his eyes.

“It was,” Steve chuckled as his right hand touched yours where it rested on the inside of his left elbow. He hit the top floor that the main elevator would take you to, the one that only the team had clearance to get to without getting special permission.

The elevator music filled the silence as you tentatively leaned your head against his shoulder.

“Maybe we could… have a drink?” He suggested faintly in your ear, taking in the scent of your shampoo.

Playfully gasping, your free hand moved to rest on his broad chest as you looked at him. “Mr. Rogers, are you attempting to give a nineteen-year-old alcohol?” You asked like a properly scandalized southern belle.

Steve groaned dramatically, leaning his head against yours in a show of affection you hadn’t exactly been expecting. “Doll, are you teasing me?” He asked, sounding a little breathless. “Because I just… still don’t want this date to end…”

You two had come a very, very long way from yelling and insulting each other on that fateful mission just a few weeks ago.

It amazed you just how many dates you’d been on in a little under a month. But Steve had asked you to go on a date when you’d gotten back to the Tower from your mission, and then proceeded to have that date thirty minutes later in the form of turning on a movie and laying out a picnic blanket with a bunch of pillows and food.

It had been sweet, especially when he’d propped you up against the pillows and carefully massaged your hurt ankle, going from your yellow painted toes up to your calf. His strong hands worked your muscles, undoing knots you didn’t even know you had. You two had fallen asleep there together, and you’d woken up together, his arms around you and your head on his chest.

And he’d asked you to go on another date with him, which had happened two days later.

It had been a series of dates happening every other night if not every night sometimes, a whirlwind courtship.

And you wouldn’t change it for the world.

Well. Actually…

No. You weren’t in the Red Room anymore, and the Soldat had never truly been yours.

The Soldat most likely just felt sorry for you, another little girl in a line of little girls trying their best to not be executed before they turned eighteen.

You were here now, at the Avengers Tower, with Steve Rogers nosing at your hair and holding you close enough that you could smell his aftershave.

And he wanted to have a drink with you.

This was someone you could have, someone you could love. Hell, you’d be lying if you tried to say you weren’t already falling for him. But not only were you falling for him, but he could fall for you and truly be with you.

Something you’d never gotten with the Soldat.

Granted, part of that was probably (definitely) your age. But your point still stood strong.

The strong, calloused hand on your hip tightened as you nodded, turning your head to press your nose against his cheek. “I’d really like that… A drink… and for this date to not end…” Your hand on his chest drifted down just a little, teasing his abdomen. “Maybe we could put on a movie… or some of those jazz albums you have…”

The chuckle that tickled your ear was dark and breathy, and you felt a kiss against your temples. “That sounds perfect.”

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he whisked you towards the second elevator that took you up to the third floor up. Thankfully, no one on the team was around to see you two rushing through the common area. Your heels clicked against the tiled floors as he led you to the end, where his door awaited the two of you.

You’d been to his room before, though sometimes you forgot just how big it was.

Definitely bigger than yours.

“How come your room is so much bigger than mine?” You whined as he let go of you to throw a record on his little turntable before sauntering over to the mini bar he kept. “And you can’t even get drunk on normal liquor.”

“I mean… I usually just have Asgardian mead stocked up…,” he admitted sheepishly as he reached into the mini fridge to grab a bottle of mead and a bottle of vodka. “But I… I got some stuff for if you… if you ever stayed over… or just… hung out here.”

It’s sweet. Really sweet.

“Thank you,” you said softly as you sat on the bed, running your hands over the soft comforter. “I’ve never drank before… So you’ll have to make something you think I’ll like. Because I… I have no idea what… drinks…” You were rambling. And you were extremely aware that you were rambling.

And you were pretty sure that he was aware that you were rambling based on the smile that was spreading across his face.

He came back over with a lowball glass, holding it out as he kneeled in front of you. “Here we go… Vodka with cranberry juice and a little bit of Red Bull. I know it sounds weird, but it actually tastes pretty solid.” Steve carefully slipped off both of your heels as you took the drink and sipped it, watching your expression closely. “What do you think?”

“Delicious.” You couldn’t help but giggle, feeling a little like Cinderella. “Thank you…”

There was a heat in his eyes that you’d glimpsed before in passing, but now… The way he was looking at you made you feel hot and a little sweaty. “Doll…”

“Steve,” you breathed out, heart pounding. Soft jazz was floating through the air as he tentatively took the drink from your hands and set it to the side. “Please…”

The super soldier slowly pressed his lips to yours, guiding you onto the bed. “Is… Is this okay?” He asked, cupping your face before kissing you again.

“I… I’ve never… you know,” you said, letting out a weak laugh. You hadn’t wanted to admit you were a virgin, but well…

Baby blues softened as he sat up, pulling you with him so you were sitting chest to chest. “Do you want to? I’ll be gentle… I’ll make it good for you.”

“I do… and I know.” You couldn’t help but smile as you leaned in and kissed him, falling back onto the sheets.

An hour and a half later, you curled up against him, perfectly sated and ready to fall asleep right then.

“How do you feel?” Steve’s fingers ran soothingly up and down your spine, sending tickles along your skin.

“Sore… But in a good way.”

There was a permanent grin etched on his lips as he stole another sweet kiss, holding you close. “I meant to ask you this before we got back here… but I got nervous…” You could feel his heart rate increasing under your cheek. “I… Would you… Would you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Yeah,” you said with a laugh on your lips as you rolled over to lie on top of his chest, smiling against his lips. “Yeah, I’d love that…”

You stared up at the woman in front of you, your heart sinking. “Madame B… I… I thought you…”

“What? You thought I died?” She asked with a laugh, shaking her head. Stepping further into the cell, she took a moment to look you over, to really take you in. “You’ve gotten fat, malen’kaya.”

“Don’t call me that.”

A familiar smirk painted her face. “You’ve gotten braver since you’ve been gone… How long has it been again? A decade or so?” Madame B moved to crouch down in front of you, grabbing your chin roughly in her hand and squeezing. “I got to see you on the news… Fucking Captain America, huh? Thought you had that locked down… Though, I’m not sure how your precious Soldat feels about it…” The demon picked up immediately on the way your body tensed, and you scooted back until you were pressed against the cool concrete of the wall. “You think we didn’t know? We’ve had eyes on you ever since you… escaped. Natalia, too. You were never too far out of our grasp…” Her thin, bony fingers ran down your cheek, before sharply slapping you. “Are you really so stupid that you thought you could escape us? I raised you better than that.”

A wave of indignation rolled over you, and you straightened yourself up. “You didn’t raise me. If anyone raised me, Natalia did. You’re… You’re a…” Everything you had suppressed while you were in the Red Room was coming back, building like a tsunami. Unable to find the words, you spit in her face, your chest heaving as you watched the way she flinched back in disgust.

Madame B suddenly slammed your head back against the concrete wall, causing stars to bloom in your vision. You could barely focus as she reached into her pocket and flicked open a knife. One of the ones you used to practice with in the Red Room. “You’re going to regret that,” she hissed, her hand wrapping around your throat and squeezing hard. Your hands clawed at her, trying to get her off of you, but it was like you had no strength at all, still weakened by whatever they’d injected into your neck. “I can’t kill you… We’ve gotta wait until your Soldat comes to rescue you for that… But that doesn’t mean I can’t make you cry a little.”

Your voice went out as she brought the knife to your face and slowly ran it along your cheek, slicing open your soft skin. The white hot pain felt like it would overpower you.

But all you could think about was the fact that Bucky would be coming to rescue you at some point or another, and he’d be walking right into a trap. They’d drag him right back to that chair they used to torture him, to wipe his identity away. They’d turn him back into the weapon he’d worked so hard to not be anymore.

And for the first time, all you could hope for was that he never found you.

[black-dragon1998]

Eating at POP’s

Summary: (Y/N) and Cheryl bond go to pop’s and everybody fawns over them.

autor’s note: It isn’t much, just a bunch of fluff. Just wanted to let you guy’s know i’m not abandoning this story event though it has been ages since i posted for it.

P.S.: It is 1AM at the time of writing this so don’t kill me if their are any mistakes in it.

part 1- part 2- part 3

Over the weekend you continue your research about the town. You found out that they had a local bike gang, the ‘South Side Serpents’. Apparently, even small towns like this have their gangs, you were curious if they were the same as the gangs in the city. your research however was interrupted when Saturday afternoon Cheryl Blossom stood at your doorstep. While you were repairing her car you opted on driving her to and from school as well as practice and you had come at a point where she let her guard down when the two of you were alone, but she had never come over without a reason.

She stood at your doorstep in what you think were comfy clothes. You were in a similar state as you hadn’t taken much effort in searching for clothes that morning. Opting for sweatpants and nothing but your sports bra.

“Cheryl? What are you doing here?” your brows scrunched together in confusion. Cheryl couldn’t help but think it was cute. A word that she didn’t think she would ever use to describe someone like you. Even the rough ways you dealt with certain things or people she thought was cute.

“well, you said you would fix my car and looking as I don’t have your number…” Cheryl trailed off. Your chuckle made her look back up at you.

“afraid I would rack your car darling.” The smirk on your face and the nickname made Cheryl blush. It took her a moment to take to pick herself together but was soon back to her usual banter.

“Can’t be careful enough.” She matched your smirk now with her own as you let her in the garage.

  That is how you spend the next two weeks after school and in the weekend working on Cheryl’s car, with her watching you from the couch that was placed in the garage/ workplace. The first time she saw all of the cars and high-tech equipment her jaw dropped. She knew you were rich, but this was even much for her. Imagen her surprise the first time she heard FRIDAY. First, she freaked out and demanded to know if someone else was there. You told her one no there wasn’t anybody else and second that FRYDAY was an IA that you had built together with your uncle after her precious one died.

 Over the hours that she watched you both of you started to relax and now she didn’t even look up when FRIDAY spoke, she even started asking them questions.

“miss I like to inform you that a vehicle from the compound is arriving later today,” FRIDAY informed. She didn’t give too much information because Cheryl was there but not much was needed.

“Thanks, FRIDAY.” You thank the AI. You were able to work for a couple more minutes before a body draped itself over your back while being bend forward over the car. Cheryl relaxing was becoming touchy and craving cuddles.

“(Y/N)?” Cheryl asked her voice muffled by being buried in your hoody. The whininess in her voice made you chuckle. She could be so cute when nobody was around to judge her.

“yes, Red?” you look over your shoulder at her and see her pouting.

“I’m hungry.” The way she said it made clear you had to do something about it. You turn around, making her fall into your chest. She immediately pulls away and starts blushing heavily.

“well hum. I can make something or I could drive us to pops. My treat.” You propose shyly. Cheryl looked up and again couldn’t help but think how cute you looked.

“How trustworthy is your cooking?” she asks you with a raised eyebrow. Not really knowing if she trusted you in the kitchen. And chuckling at your reaction.

“Haven’t burned down the kitchen jet, but it would probably be safer if we went out.” You admit scratching the back of your neck. Wanda had tried to teach you how to cook and you weren’t bad but like your mom, it didn’t really interest you and you sometimes forgot you had left something on the fire. So at the compound, Wanda took the role of big sister seriously and forbade you from using the kitchen and always made something from you.

To your surprise, Cheryl agreed to go with you on your bike, something that was short of shocking. When she put on one of your helmets and leather jackets you had to take a minute. You thought she look hot before but that had nothing on her now. She noticed you staring and turned around with one hand on her hip.

“See something you like sugar.” She asked in a flirty tone and you had to shake your head a little to get the daze out and could only nod. Yes, you were liking what you saw.

“you look good in leather.” Was the only thing you could say in response. Instead of saying anything Cheryl smiled and straddled the bike. This woman was going to the death of you.

 A motorcycle-riding up the parking of with 2 people on it did raze a couple of heads. Even more when started recognizing Cheryl as she took off her helmet. Cheryl however didn’t seem to notice or care so you didn’t make a big deal out of it either. It wasn’t going to change the way you were going to treat her, it never did.

Walking out in front of her you held the door open for her and it made her laugh but she accepted it.

“what a gentlewoman.” She teased with a smile.

“well, I do aim to please and saw this hot girl in the parking lot and had to get her attention.” You fired back, with a smirk. She giggled slapping your shoulder before walking in. not ready to let it go you continued.

“you think she would be interested?” you wiggle your eyebrows at her.

  Betty who was sitting at one of the booths in POP’s, together with Veronica, Archie and Jugghead looked up when she heard the sound of a motorcycle approaching. Thinking one of the Serpents want to kick up some trouble.

“who’s that?” she askes, not recognizing the drive. Her friend's lookup.

“don’t recognize the bike. It is not someone from the Serpents.” Jugghead comments. Something familiar does spike when they see the driver park the bike, not yet realising it's you. At school, you only wear baggy clothes so they had never seen you like this.

“I don’t know who they are but they look good.” Veronica was openly gawking at the muscles that were on display through your leather jacket and skinny jeans. Archie on his turn was checking out the bike under you.

Recognizing your companion wasn’t that hard, her red hair came flowing from underneath the helmet and gave away their identity.

“well, whoever they are they have convinced Cheryl Blossom to ride on a bike with them.” Jugghead didn’t even try to be as amazed as his friends were, even though he was curious who the driver was.

All four being blown away when you took off your helmet and setting it on your lap while smiling at Cheryl who looked at you with a mock glare.

  “don’t have to be so fuzzy Red, you look good either way.” Your smooth words made her heart flutter while heat streamed to her face. Instead of responding she turned and marched toward the door. Although before she could even open it you already holding it open for her. Giving you a small smile she walked in and you followed. Leading Cheryl to one of the booths in the back of the shop. You tell her to relax as you take her order and walked toward the counter.

Sitting down Cheryl had the time to go over all the emotions she was feeling. You made her feel warm and secure. She only ever felled like that with Jason. Over the weekends she spends with you, you insisted you wanted to get to know the ‘real’ Cheryl as you called it and against her better judgment she caved, so she let the bitch side of her drop.

The other thing you did was take care of her, getting her food was only one of the small things you did and you never asked for anything in return. You also checked on her emotionally, telling her it was okay to be sad and mad over Jason’s death. With you, she was allowed to grieve, at school, she always had to keep up her perfect persona and her parents were sharks waiting for her to mess up to break her down some more. To say her feeling for you were growing was an understatement, the only she couldn’t say was where they were growing toward.

So Cheryl couldn’t help but smile when she saw you walking toward her with two food stray in hand.

Part 5

[earthnashes]

FINALLY! After a little while of work I’ve finally designed and drew each of the main races for Lorule! So that means, LORULE HEADCANONNNNNNNN!!!!! 8D aight ya’ll, let’s get right into it:

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Lorule is one of the Seven Kingdoms in the world of LoZ (not sure what to call the actual world itself), and the direct neighbor to Hyrule. Despite its harsh climates and highly varying regions, Lorule is prosperous and a staple realm among the Kingdoms. It’s ruled by the queen Hilda and inhabited by the following races (alongside some lore bits for the characters representing them):

-Lorians: A people who are of the same race as Hylians and thus share the trait of having pointed ears. Lorians, however, commonly have darker skin tones and lighter eyes, raging from copper brown to golden yellow in contrast to the common greens and blues of Hylians. While scattered all across Lorule, their capitol resides in the center of the vast drylands, smack-dab in the middle of an oasis.

Queen Hilda is the current ruler of Lorule and the youngest one to assume the crown (she became queen at the age of 16). She gained her position due to her father stepping down in light of ailing health, and has since earned a reputation of being a just and competent queen. She's strict and can be intimidating with how no-nonsense she is, but does whatever she can to do right by her subjects and allies. A bit of a big sister/mentor figure to Zelda.

Ravio is a young farm lad who has big aspirations to be a court mage. Thin as a rail with a timid, shy disposition to match, Ravio scares rather easily, but he works hard and dreams big for his future. He was taken in by Ooccoo when he was just a baby, having found him hidden under a blanket within a ransacked carriage. He idolizes the Queen and wishes to be as strong as her.

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-Yamatami: This race of humanoids are as tall as they are lean and thin, characterized by their unique masks they never take off and their ability to transform into giant snake-like creatures. The Yamatami inhabit the marshlands and mostly keep to themselves, though they are highly sought after trading-wise for their venom. They are lead by the somewhat oafish chief King.

Mamba is King’s daughter, and therefore the next-in-line to be chief once he steps down. As much as Mamba adores her tribe, she longs for a life of adventure, ever so curious about the world beyond their marshland boundaries. Part of her hesitation on being chief secretly banks on her fear of not being fit for the role. She’s a dreamer, very bubbly, friendly, and somewhat naive, but all she wants is to be able to make her own path.

Faux (pronounced “fawks”) is resourceful, fast, and cautious. They’re one of the best warriors the Yamatami have to offer, and through that they’ve become the trusted bodyguard to Mamba. Faux might seem indifferent to the overtly friendly princess but don’t let that fool you; they are ever watchful and ever so protective of their charge.

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-Oocca: Bird-like race with human-esque faces, they are a peaceful people who inhabit a great city hovering in the sky. The Oocca dislike conflict, though this is possibly because they themselves have no means of self-defense nor combat prowess, though they more than contribute their fair share to the Lorule alliance via their expertise in trade and commerce, as well as their advanced technology. Given their general lack of combative means, their city is inhabited by guards from the other native races, as per their negotiations. Anywhere you go, there’s almost certainly an Oocca merchant handling the finances of the city.

Ooccoo, sometimes known as Miss O, is the sweet, gentle single mother of Junior.  She makes her peaceful living running a homely inn and selling knick-knacks in the small farm village Ravio grew up in. She also doubles as the resident repair shop, using her skill in tinkering to keep the village's tech and tools in tip-top shape. Ooccoo has a knack of taking in any stragglers that she may run across, which has led her to taking in Ravio and raising him as if he were her own. She has an unusual assistant: an old battle-worn Lynel (to be designed later!) she calls Lyo.

Junior is Ooccoo's outgoing young son. Ever so eager to make friends and lend a hand whenever he can, Junior helps his mother run her inn and shop. He's high on energy and sometimes runs too fast for his legs to carry him (he has a penchant for tripping), and someitmes he talks a little too much, but all he wants to do is make sure you feel welcomed when under their care. He often uses berry branches as hair ties so he can have a small snack anywhere he goes!

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-Yook:  Otherwise known as Yetis, they are a race of huge, gorilla-like bipedal creatures who live on the peaks of the freezing, snowy mountains of Lorule. Despite their fearsome appearance and gargantuan strength, they're rather friendly, and have been known to guide lost hikers back on the trail to return home. Unfortunately, the Yook were once hunted to near genocide for their thick coats and tough hides before the practice was outlawed, and so they're cautious towards outsiders. It's only recently that they've begun to allow visitors to their humble village, but the current political climate among the Yook is a tremulous one.

Yeto was once the leader to the Yook before being beaten in a fight for the title against his younger adversary, Yuk. Now he and his beloved wife Yeta live out in the outskirts of the hidden village, living a quiet life while dedicating themselves to helping lost travelers and keeping them away from the village. This is mostly because, under Yuk's aggressive leadership, the Yook village is not safe for outsiders.

Yeta is Yeto's soft-spoken wife. Yeta is motherly to a fault, with barely a hostile bone in her body, but she isn't one to be pushed around. Upon her husband's defeat to Yuk in combat, she was outspoken on the harm he would cause their village by leading them down a violent path and was the only other one to stand up against the newly crowned chief, the others too afraid to say anything. She and Yeto were then forced to leave the village, living on the outskirts and dedicating themselves to keep outsiders away for their own safety.

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-Mogma: Andromorphic mole-like peoples who make their homes in the dry grasslands, the closest neighbors to the Lorian capitol. They generally grow to be large with huge, long claws for digging, and their villages and cities are known to mostly reside below ground. They are largely artisan by culture, focusing most of their energies in making, and collecting, knick-knacks and treasures. Their drive for all things shiny and pretty make them excellent treasure hunters, and many Mogma make lucrative careers out of being treasure-hunters-for-hire. They are a semi-nomadic people.

Guld was once the leader of the Mogma before he finally stepped down and gave the title to Ledd. One of the few Mogma to make his residence above ground, Guld has retired to a peaceful life of farming and selling pumpkins and other little trinkets he finds during his evening strolls. Despite long-since stepping down as leader, the Mogma often seek him out for guidance still, and he’s worried that it’s because they aren’t trusting their new leader as much as he’d hoped.

Ledd is the newfound leader of the Mogma, chosen by Guld for his courage and finesse in finding treasures. For all of his perceived confidence, Ledd is unsure of his newfound position, and his lack of action has led other Mogma to believe he is unfit for the role. His only supporter is Plats, his best buddy, and Guld. He’s determined to prove that he wants to be the leader the Mogma deserves, but is unsure how to do so.

Plats is the kindly and rather nervous buddy of Ledd, and the youngest brother of three. Unlike the rest of his kin, Plats is far more interested in simply trading items and hunting for food instead of shinies, which contributes to his round figure and his resident duty as town merchant. Given his rather cowardly disposition, Plats rarely ever tries to go treasure hunting, something his brothers often tease him about. He is the only one who has faith in Ledd’s leadership among their kin with the only other exception being Guld.

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WHEW!!! That got a bit long, but I’m glad to say that it’s out there for ya’ll to see! :3 I had a whole lot of fun working on this headcanon and if you have any questions please feel more than free to ask!! ;w;

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More LoZ headcanons | My Patreon |

[cyberaxolotl]

Wasterune: The First Survivors

The first four survivors are Kris, Susie, Ralsei, and Berdly.

Kris is the one that carries everything that all of them need to carry, and is the one who leads. They carry the map.

Susie has the brawn, but she doesn’t have the knowledge. She can easily speed up the process of most things if she knows what she’s being told to do.

Ralsei is the one who’s most determined to survive the wasteland. He knows the prophecy, and he believes that with enough strength, the heroes can persevere and thrive anew until life can prosper again.

Berdly has the study, but he’s not the most useful. Susie drags that he’s a waste of space, but he’s the only one keeping Kris sane and lighthearted. He tries his best.

Noelle is not with them as she passed away when the end began. This weighs heavy on Susie and Berdly.

The next ones gained, and the last for a while, are Sweet and Cap’n.

For the first two days, sometimes the group will report seeing three people in the distance who seem to be actively retreating from them. It is also worth noting that some items will be missing from stuff, but not everything, as though it was rationed. Nothing can be done about the three until the third day, of which they are found in their own shelter.

Sweet and Cap’n are outside of the shelter, and the first thing that happens once they’re approached is Sweet aiming a revolver at them. They say the group needs to leave from there and never return, but they all persist. After a lot of talking and Sweet trying aggressively to get them to go away, the story is brought out that the three bunkered down there through most of the great death, but lost K_K to the heatwave. They are now staying there and not leaving, even if they can’t bring themselves to see him, they are not going to leave him. Even once Ralsei warns them of the bugs coming that night, they are persistent on not leaving. If the three are gonna die, they die a team. They refuse to let any of the four of them near the shelter itself.

Instructing Ralsei to distract them by trying to talk some hope into them and warning them of prophecy, Kris sneaks into the shelter. As such, they find K_K’s body in a half melted, mostly burnt state. But they do find K_K’s music box and K_K’s note. The note reads:

From K_K, to Sweet and Cap’n,

If you’ve found this note then I guess it means I’ve passed my prime. But it’s okay! Even if I’m lost to the wasteland, I know that you two aren’t as well. I know in my mechanical heart that you two can make it through this, and remember me. I’m writing this note in hopes that you’ll listen to my music box again after I’m gone and find this, so if you do, remember! Always keep your head high! If you ever need a pick me up, I know the song you found this note with will help you. It’s the one Cap’n made after we got engaged!

I’m always watching over you both.

After the note and music box are found, Kris needs to decide who should present the items to them (they are mute and can’t do it themselves.) No matter who’s chosen, Kris will end up needing to play the music box to stop a fight from happening, after which Sweet finally reads the note to himself and to Cap’n. After that, the two are willing to go on, and they promise each other that they will never let the other die.

Kris and Ralsei volunteer to take the time to hold a proper burial for K_K, which gets more will out of Sweet and Cap’n. Cap’n needs a drink of any kind before he can speak properly (as explained by Sweet, “Why’s Cap not talking? He already had a weak throat, but the dust storm the other day just made it worse.) The drink can be either booze or muddy water.

Sweet is the tech savvy and engineering smarts. They’re able to repair vehicles and other machinery or electrical equipment as long as they have the time and supplies. The only problem is that they’re frail- if something is done wrong while preparing for a night, they will be the first one to die.

Cap’n is also tech savvy, but not as able as Sweet. Instead, he knows how to sew. If any coats, towels, (thermal) blankets, or otherwise covers are needed, he can make them with the right resources. The issue with him is that he’s bulky, and certain things can break (tree branches, loose floor/roof tiles) underneath him. This restricts him from certain areas, but it also means he’s the best at gauging the safety of certain places.

More information soon.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Never a Gull Moment

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 3523

For @yavannie, who wanted Sam to either gain new powers or carry Bucky through the air. Spoiler, I went with both. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: Sam’s had an intense first week as Captain America. The perfect opportunity for a break arises when Joaquín contacts him, offering new programming for his suit. All he needs to test the tech are the beach, birds, and one uncooperative bonehead Sam didn’t manage to leave behind in New York.

If there’s one skill Sam’s hoping to adopt from his predecessor—Steve, not Walker (sweet Jesus, not Walker)—it’s the ability to end a conversation with a humble handwave before it can even begin. Steve always had that in the bag. Leading with the wrist in a flick of the hand that came across as both sheepish and respectful. Like he’d love to stop and talk with that fan or this journalist but he was just too busy. And not rude busy, busy with a quiet nobility. Anyway, it all came across in the wave.

Sam hasn’t nailed the wave.

Four days after the GRC vote-that-wasn’t, he’s still in New York, bouncing between TV appearances; everybody wants a piece of the new Cap. Sam wishes they asked a little more about his opinions on compassion for the displaced, as well as those who survived the Snap to form new, functional communities, and less about the look of his new suit, but isn’t it always a battle between style and substance? At least people are listening. To everything except the look Sam knows he has in his eyes, the one that says this debut has been a lot and he’s longing for home.

He knows he has to nail this aspect of being Captain America too. Unfortunately, chuckling amiably with morning show hosts isn’t doing a hell of a lot to distract him from what it took to get him here. There are seconds where his attention wavers—he’ll be nodding along to whatever someone’s saying, or letting his gaze follow a bike courier down the street instead of staying trained on the camera the roving reporter has set up on the sidewalk—and that’s when Karli hurtles into his mind. He feels her desperate blows vibrating the shield, the weight of her body in his arms, in her death.

He can’t keep sitting behind desks or posing impressively and trying to answer the hard questions (on the rare occasion they’re asked) after he’s told people he’s not the expert. When Torres calls up, it’s the close-enough-to-official reason Sam’s been waiting for to step back and do something that actually feels useful.

Bucky, who’s been skulking behind the scenes, somehow never pulled into interviews (if he knows the deferring wave and he’s been doing it just outside Sam’s sightline all week, Sam’s gonna kill him), sticks with him. They head south to meet Torres, and at least that feels like the right direction. Homeward bound. Of course, they stop a handful of states before Louisiana and hug the east coast, but it’s an improvement. They meet Torres at… the beach.

He’s got his foot propped in the open doorframe of a Humvee, giving Sam and Bucky a big, eager, whole-arm wave as they pull up. Not like they’re gonna miss him; Torres is in the only vehicle parked halfway down an unpaved road. Sand dunes climb steep and high just feet from his front bumper, an informal path cutting between the dunes and leading to the water, though Sam can’t see that from this vantage.

Torres’s hand is somehow already grasping Sam’s in a pumping, congratulatory shake before he’s fully out of the car. Sam hears Bucky’s soft snort of suppressed laughter and shoots him a look across the seats. Bucky raises his palms, but Sam spots his smirk before they’re both slamming their doors and stretching their legs after the drive.

“Traffic?” Torres asks brightly.

“Nah,” Bucky answers, coming around the back of their ride. “Sam just drives slower than my grandmother and she—”

“Died on the Titanic?” Sam guesses dryly.

Bucky’s flat stare could be saying a lot of things, or nothing. Sam feels as if he’s been a student of the language of Bucky’s stare for a while now, but his comprehension is still rudimentary. Pop that asshole in a sanctuary for rehabilitated brain-washees, have somebody study his behaviour like Jane Goodall studies chimpanzees, and they might get some answers. The idea starts as something funny Sam almost shares, but then he imagines handfeeding Bucky a banana and it gets weird. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Or she got the cryo treatment too and she’s kickin’ around someplace, speakin’ Russian and makin’ headshots.”

“Come on, man, Hydra jokes about your own grandmother?” Sam scoffs. “That’s not even a little bit funny.”

Torres’s expression is like a kid watching a wrestling match on TV—awed, alarmed, reluctant to question what’s real because he’s just enjoying the show.

Bucky cracks a slow smile and Sam rolls his eyes, slapping Torres’s shoulder to get him to head towards the Humvee and the reason they’re here.

“Nana woulda thought it was funny,” Bucky assures them.

“Nana?”

“Lemme guess… You called your aunt ‘TT,’ so your grandmother’s probably… ‘GG,’ am I right?”

Sam glares at him (because his guess is correct and he’s a pain in the ass) and turns fully to Torres as he opens the back, revealing a large case.

“You were vague on the phone,” Sam recalls, watching Torres tug the case close before undoing the clasps. Bucky leans against the vehicle as he observes, dark pants picking up a swipe of road dust from the dirty taillight. “Something about an update for the suit?”

“Right,” Torres agrees.

He throws the case open to reveal the wings Sam gifted him. They’ve been repaired and Sam automatically strokes a hand over the gleaming, extended metal. If Torres did this himself, he sure worked fast.

“That duffle bag wasn’t good enough for you?” Sam asks jokingly, remembering his gear broken and jumbled, fit to be dragged out with the trash.

“They’re kind my prized possession,” Torres admits. “I thought they deserved to be kept nice.”

“You might even wanna put ’em on sometime.”

“I’m working up to that.” Torres laughs. “I wanted to make sure they were in working order before I jumped off a building.”

“Or out of the back of a plane without a parachute, right, Buck?” Sam asks, smacking the back of his hand into Bucky’s chest.

“I was fine,” Bucky insists.

“Sure you were. We can watch the footage again. I’m up for that.”

“Just let the man finish.”

Torres grants Bucky a wide smile in thanks.

“Yeah,” he picks up, “so I was fixing them, working on the wiring, and when I got the electronics running smoothly again, I started thinking about Redwing—”

“May he rest in pieces,” Bucky contributes.

“Uncalled for,” Sam complains.

“I replaced it, didn’t I?”

“The Wakandans replaced it.”

“As a favour to me.”

Torres’s gaze dances between them until Sam motions for him to continue.

“About Redwing,” Torres goes on enthusiastically. “The sophistication of the relationship between you, how intuitive the tech was. How Redwing understood not just simply-stated commands, but a more conversational approach, interpreting your intentions.”

“Finally, a little Redwing appreciation,” Sam says. He crosses his arms and gives Bucky a meaningful look.

“But what if it was a real bird?” Torres blurts.

Most of a minute passes as Sam stares at Torres’s excited expression.

“I think I might get where Torres is going with this,” Bucky says.

Sam holds up a hand to pause him. He could make a guess at it too, but there’s no need for that. They have the source of whatever alterations have been made right here.

“In your own words, Joaquín,” Sam encourages.

“Well,” he begins, one palm braced in the bed of the Humvee as he leans over the case with unconscious protectiveness, “you know I’ve kinda been itching to get my hands on the wings for a long time.”

“Yeah.” Sam laughs, remembering having to practically slap Torres’s hands away from the jetpack in Tunisia.

“Since you gave them to me a couple weeks ago, I’ve been tinkering, like I said, and I had this idea. Now,” he warns, raising both hands in caution, “this might be either really obvious or really disrespectful to the whole concept of the Falcon, but I started wondering if it’d be possible for the person wearing the wings to talk to nearby birds. Use them like a resource, like with Redwing.”

“Black Panther dresses like a cat with Vibranium claws.”

“Spider-Man has webs,” Bucky adds.

“Right,” Sam agrees, nodding to him before looking back to Torres. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful to lean into the gimmick if it’s amplifying your abilities.”

“Awesome,” Torres pronounces.

“I assume you went further than just wondering about it?”

Torres gives them a modest shrug.

“I know a guy who knows an ornithologist.”

“Bird scientist,” Bucky translates.

Turning his head, Sam glances at Bucky with a no shit look.

���Thanks,” he says insincerely.

“You’re welcome.”

“Long story short,” Torres pipes up, “she got me access to a catalogue of bird calls and the scientific consensus on what they all mean. I patched that info into the suit and, hopefully, it’s something that could be used, uh, on the fly. Sorry, I was trying to think of another way to say that.”

“So my suit would be able to communicate with birds?” Sam checks. “Automatically?”

“Yeah, it would assess your surroundings the same way Redwing does already, but scanning for birds, identifying what kind they are, and having the interpretation of their calls at the ready if needed.”

“What sort of information would I be gaining with this tech?”

“Stuff like… are they feeling threatened or disturbed? Does something feel off about their environment that has something to do with somebody you’re maybe chasing?”

“Mating rituals,” Bucky says.

“How is being able to recognize mating rituals going to help me?” Sam demands.

“You never know.”

“You brought your suit, right?” Torres wants to know. Apparently, he’s not going to bother engaging with Bucky’s nonsense. “It won’t take long for me to install the new software.”

“It’s in the back,” Sam assures him, jerking a thumb towards the other vehicle.

“Great!”

“But just the bird calls. This suit is brand new. No tinkering.”

“No tinkering,” Torres swears.

He sets up his impromptu workshop in the back seat, next to the suit. Sam has to admit to himself that Torres’s reverential expression as he handles the Captain America suit is pretty flattering. He watches the progress until Torres sits back, stating it’ll just be a few minutes for the new programming to be assimilated.

“Why the beach?” Sam asks while they wait.

“I was inspired by some shaky, far-away footage of you in New York. You did, uh, kind of a nosedive into the river there, so I thought maybe you’d be interested in testing your suit’s maneuverability in water at the same time as we did a trial with the bird calls.”

“Are we running a drill or something?” Bucky wonders.

“That’s a good idea,” Torres says immediately. “A scenario to use both the calls and the water.”

“You got something in mind?”

Sam isn’t the one who asks because he can see from Torres’s face that he does. Fortunately, he is the one who gets to laugh when the Lieutenant squints consideringly at Bucky and asks, “How long can you hold your breath?”

—

The last Sam sees of Bucky, he’s taking off his shirt.

“Oh, entire jacket this time?” Torres asked when Bucky took that off first.

After that, it was his shoes and socks, then his t-shirt, and this whole Bucky stripping thing isn’t so much a last look as something that Sam has to stand there witnessing for a while. He’s already in the Cap suit and, seriously, Bucky could’ve changed at the same time. Then, he would’ve been ready to go without making Sam and Torres wait around. But Sam wouldn’t have gotten to see him undress.

“Hurry it up, man.” His voice is a little off because, at the same time, he’s thinking, Please don’t take your pants off.

“If you’re making me play a drowning victim, I can at least not be getting weighed down,” Bucky argues. “This is to help you, right? Quit complaining.”

Finally, he stalks away, mounting the dune in black jeans and a half-assed scowl and disappearing over the top. The plan is for him to swim out, then duck under the water when Torres tells him to (the guy’s brought along waterproof earpieces for the purpose). Next, Sam will fly up and search for the ‘victim,’ relying solely on input from the seagulls wheeling lazily overhead. It’s a good exercise Torres has cooked up.

Sam hands the shield off to Torres for safekeeping before the Lieutenant heads to the beach. The shield won’t be necessary for this and there’s no way in hell Sam’s leaving it in the car. Besides, it’s kinda funny how wide Torres’s eyes go when Sam offers it up. Even bigger reaction than leaving him the wings, though this he doesn’t get to keep.

“On my signal,” Torres restates.

Sam gives him a sharp nod.

Once he’s alone, he paces between the vehicles, eager to kick off the ground. He hasn’t had an opportunity to just enjoy himself in the new suit yet. Leading up to the confrontation with the Flag-Smashers (and Georges Batroc, that fists-of-steel bastard), he was in training mode, focused and determined. In the media-heavy days that followed, he conceded to a few stunts for the camera. Those hadn’t been purely fun though; they were actually something Sam had to think quick and hard about, ultimately deciding that it wasn’t just performing on command but rather giving the public a lighthearted look at their new Captain America. Testing new tech with Bucky, Torres, and a bunch of seagulls? That seems like it’ll actually be a good time.

The instant Torres’s voice in Sam’s ear says, “Bucky’s under,” he unfurls the wings and sails up over the crest of the dune.

It’s not the warmest day and the greenish-blue water’s choppy near the shore, but there is a surprising smattering of people along a quarter mile of beach. Must be locals, Sam guesses, trekking down to the water from nearby houses. That would explain the lack of other cars where he parked. The people aren’t that close or that bothered by his sudden appearance overhead. Startled, sure, but after they’ve identified him (he sees a few hands lifted to foreheads to block out the sun so they can get a good look), he gets to return a couple big waves. Besides that, nobody’s getting to their feet to pound sand and swarm Torres, who’s conspicuously there with Sam—he is holding the shield, after all. Pretty typical. The bigger the crowd, the greater the chance of people scrambling for his attention and/or whipping out their phones to film him. This group seems satisfied with watching Captain America hanging out at their beach on his downtime and Sam appreciates them for that.

“No scanning the water,” Torres says in his ear. Sam laughs.

“I’m not, just assessing our audience here.”

“Is this a bad spot? I didn’t think anybody’d be around when I sent you my location, but—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. Did anybody ask you what was up when Bucky waded out into the water?”

“Nah. If they were wondering, they probably aren’t anymore.”

“Glad I won’t have to compete with a lifeguard to rescue him,” Sam jokes.

He hears Torres’s short laugh of agreement before focusing. Not on the water at all, but the birds. Those down on the sand are squawking for food, comfortable enough with these people to complain loudly in the hopes of being fed.

Sam’s sudden swoops scatter the gulls in the air, so he tries easier circles, mimicking their movements to hover high above the beach. Soon enough—these guys either have bad short-term memories or no patience—they start communicating with each other. The new programming Torres has uploaded to his suit signals to Sam that the birds are aware of a disturbance in the water. He gets a target on his goggles’ imaging and dives.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sam crashes into the murky water no more than a hundred yards out. The drop-off is dramatic enough for him to not complete a faceplant into a shallow bottom. Bucky’s treading water a couple body-lengths down, but he wrecks his form to offer Sam a raised middle finger in greeting. Sam’s wings retract as he grabs Bucky’s wrist to haul him to the surface.

They breathe, bobbing in place.

“Thought you’d be faster,” Bucky says.

“You didn’t drown, did you?” Sam points out. “Come on.”

He catches hold of Bucky’s hand and shoots out of the water, wings opening in the air to carry him once the thruster’s done its work. But Bucky squirms below him, their wet grip twisting precariously. Water runs from his sopping jeans.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sam asks.

“I don’t want to be carried to shore!”

“Why?”

“Because dangling this high above the ground feels a little weird to me! Not all of us do this every day!”

“I guess we could run the exercise again.”

“Fine. Let’s do that. Just drop me.”

Sam rewards Bucky’s melodrama by abruptly releasing his grip. Hey, that’s what the idiot asked for, and if he can fall out of a plane to the forest floor, he can plunge into water. It’s not like Sam’s up at aircraft cruising altitude, just high enough to make Torres look like a little action figure army man, standing on the sand in his fatigues.

“Running it again?” Torres wants to know.

“Yep,” Sam tells him, accelerating away from the shore. “Just giving that dumbass time to swim to a new spot.”

“Even though he can’t reply while he’s underwater… you know he can hear you in the comms, right?”

“Oh yeah.”

When Torres lets him know that Bucky’s gone under a second time, they start the drill again. Once more, Sam does a gliding approach to the seagulls. Once more, they go quiet before filling the air with their screaming, overlapping calls. Once more, Sam finds Bucky. He knows he’s quicker this time, so he’s expecting an acknowledgement of that when he contracts the wings, straightens his body, and plummets into the water feetfirst next to where Bucky’s floating below the surface.

Instead of an appreciative nod, an outstretched hand, or even a thumbs up, Bucky darts away from him. Is he trying not to get rescued? Now he’s just fucking up the exercise. Only, Sam can’t even berate him, because he’s still under too, holding his breath as he swims after Bucky. He uses the jetpack for assistance, but Bucky’s a fast swimmer, legs kicking just ahead of Sam. Goddamn human shark.

Because he is not an idiot, Sam surfaces to catch his breath, leaving Bucky somewhere below.

“There a problem?” Torres asks.

“Only with Bucky’s idea of teamwork.”

“Get him like a bird would!”

“Is that a real suggestion?” Sam asks, rising and falling as a small wave swells under him, rolling towards the shore.

“Really, Sam! You know, like how birds hunt fish.” Back on the beach, he makes a sharp, downward gesture with his arm that has Sam chuckling. He gets what Torres means though.

“Alright.”

Sam goes from water to air, then, alerted by a trio of seagulls taking annoyed flight from the surface of the water, goes into a steep dive. Nabbing the swimmer from above is the trick, he learns, when the swimmer is being intentionally uncooperative with the rescue attempt. Bucky might be quick when he knows Sam’s behind him, but when he drops down on him, there’s nowhere Bucky can go. Sam wraps his arms around Bucky’s bare chest from behind and lugs him up for air.

The first thing Bucky says is, “You took even longer that time.”

Frustrated, Sam splashes the back of his head, but when Bucky strokes his arms out, rotating to face him, he’s smiling.

“You messed it up,” Sam accuses. He rubs a hand across his goggles to smear the water droplets off.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t have fun.”

Sam narrows his eyes before a laugh bursts out of him. He can’t help it; it’s the pressure he’s been under, so much internal conflict, suddenly drawn out with the current. Yeah, Bucky was slightly uncooperative, but that’s nothing unusual. Swimming ahead like he was going for a gold medal or forcing Sam to plunge deep after him, the two of them suspended like the goddamn Shape of Water before Sam towed him to the surface—either way, Bucky definitely gave him distinct scenarios to work with. Sam can’t say he doesn’t feel more comfortable now that he’s had some practice. More comfortable with his wings in the water, with working with his feathered allies. With Bucky.

“Still don’t want a lift?” Sam checks.

Bucky’s expression hardens and Sam backs off with a laugh.

“See you on the shore,” Bucky states firmly.

“Alright. Get doggy-paddlin’, White Wolf.”

Sam feels Bucky’s hand shoot out to seize his ankle in retaliation as he launches out of the water, but he’s too slow. Sam’s wings fan wide as he flies up, up, up with the birds.