#i am not currently taking fully colored and everything comms

[lyril]

hey, how's it going! i don't have a job and i'd like to be able to afford some black-out curtains and other things before i suffer in a house without air conditioning again this summer. so, i'm offering some simple, uncolored pencil sketch or line art commissions!

if you're interested, message me at @garlude and i will give you my paypal info and discuss the commission with you! as well, i have a few leftover adoptables you can find here. more examples of my usual work and a few of the commissions i've already taken will be under the cut!

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding Part Three: SW Time Travel AU #27

Part One

Part Two

Obi Wan woke with a dry mouth and a moderate headache. A fairly typical morning these days. 

He peered around his bedroom in the temple confused. Wasn’t he just with Cody? Shouldn’t he be on the Negotiator? No wait, the war was over, Cody tried to kill him, and the Negotiator was a part of the Imperial Armada, of course he wouldn’t be there. He closed his eyes, snuggling back under the covers. Before he could drift back to sleep, his sluggish mind processed that last thought. 

He BOLTED upright in bed. The temple had been razed, his personal chambers scorched with particular thoroughness. Just being on Coruscant was an automatic death sentence. Faint tendrils of panic began to curl around his throat before he remembered his decision to give Spice a try. He had reasoned that he should probably find at least one pleasure in his new life, instead of focusing incessantly on what was lost. 

So what if he lost a few brain cells? Good riddance. 

Obi-Wan had been a bit nervous, but this had ended up being his best decision in years. His goodbye to Cody had been painful, but deeply cathartic. Spice Hallucination Anakin didn’t scream like Nightmare Anakin, and the color of his eyes was perfect. Far better final memories to cling to than reality- a reminder of the good times. Comforted, he relaxed backwards in bed, pulling his blankets back around him.

He LURCHED out of bed, covers tossed aside, movement a blur.

He was still hallucinating?!? Spice shouldn’t last in the system this long! He might’ve been uncertain about whether he was supposed to smoke or snort the substance but it was a well known fact that its exhaustive but rapid passage through the body was half what made it so addictive. If nothing else, his well-restedness and thirst indicated it had been at least six hours. He looked frantically around the room, searching for some thread of unreality to pull at.

This...was not good. Hadn’t the subconscious manifestations of his friends mentioned drugs that interacted poorly with force users last night? He had dismissed it at the time but...

He clearly was stuck in some sort of drugged fantasy combined with force-enhanced memory recall. Kriff, he had to wake up in the real world before he died of an aneurysm. Or just dehydration.

He sat on the ‘temple floor’ to meditate. This could be tricky as he couldn’t risk lowering his outer shields to reach out to reality. It would be deeply embarrassing as well as horrifying if the Emperor managed to find him and, by extension, Luke because he got stuck in a bad spice trip.

The door to his room clicked open quietly. 

“Oh! You’re awake. Sorry to come in without knocking, Master. I wanted to let you sleep, but I’ve been checking on you every two hours to make sure you were still, you know, breathing. You were...pretty out of it last night and I would be a pretty bad ‘best friend in the whole galaxy’ if I let you choke on your own vomit, right?” His blue-eyed Padawan explained with a grin.

Obi-Wan just stared. Oh this- this hurt. It was easier last night, when the whole fantasy had a kind of drunken blurriness. Sleeping and waking had brought sober clarity to the dream world. He could see the bags under Anakin’s eyes as well as the sheepish slouch of his shoulders as he instinctively ducked at the door frame. It was just so real.

“Obi-Wan? Are you feeling ok? Do you still feel drunk?” Anakin asked concerned.

Obi-Wan shook his head. He hesitated, before deciding to just go along with the interaction. He didn’t want to risk his subconscious throwing a less idylic scene at him by pretending to ignore this one. And besides, last night had been, all totaled, a huge relief- an unburdening of things left unsaid. This was probably the closest thing to therapy available to him these days, he might as well take advantage.

“I’m just...processing. Not to mention dealing with some mild dehydration.” He finally answered.

“Processing, huh? So does that mean you, uh, remember last night?” Anakin asked nervously.

“I do.” Obi-Wan smiled gently. As heart-wrenching as this was, it was also adorably sweet. Maybe it was worth it to push off waking for a little while. He could get some closure, maybe even work through some of the past to see where the two of them had gone wrong. It might even be helpful for Luke! Force willing, he would probably end up training Anakin’s son someday.

(the boy wouldn’t have many masters to choose from)

If this dream world could help him figure out specifically how he had failed as a Master, then he owed it to the galaxy to see it through. Satisfied, he resolved to let the fantasy play out. At least for a few more more hours. And...he had missed what Anakin had said. Wonderful start.

“I’m very sorry, Anakin would you mind repeating that? I was still a little distracted, but I promise, I’m focused on you now.”

Anakin shuffled nervously. “It’s nothing.”

Obi-Wan tried to project reassurance without actually projecting. “Please Anakin, I’d like to hear what you have to say. I know I wasn’t the most observant or approachable Master, and I’m sorry for that. But I have always cared about your thoughts and feelings.” It was a struggle and the words caught in his throat, but the raw burn of the apology was cleansing in an almost addictive way.

Anakin flushed. “Did you mean everything you said?” he asked nervously.

“I’d...rather not talk about seeing the destruction of the temple, seeing you... Maybe later...but please, I just don’t want to focus on it while I’m sitting here, looking at you,” Obi-Wan said quietly.

“That actually wasn’t what I was talking about,” Anakin responded quickly. “I mean, I do want to help you with that at some point, but I get not wanting to talk about visions, even if you should probably should. Of course if you do want to talk about that stuff, that’s more important, but since you don’t we can talk about the other stuff you mentioned. I was more referring to, you know, us, and what you said about our friendship?” his voice got progressively higher the longer he rambled. 

Obi-Wan thought back. “Well some of it is a little hazy, but overall yes. I...for a very long time I’ve considered you my best friend, and its not so easy for me to let go of my affections. I miss spending time with you; there are times I turn to say something and am still shocked you’re not there. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, with real words, how much I cared. I’m sorry I didn’t hug you as much as I wanted, looking back that was a nonsensical Jedi custom. It’s not in the code; it’s just an affectation of dignity. All things considered, the fact that you often snuck out to see Padme doesn’t really bother me.” He paused. “Was that everything?”

“Oh. Yeah, that pretty much covered everything.” Anakin looked embarrassed, but happy. “I wasn’t sure if you were just saying that stuff because you were drugged, or really drunk or something.”

“No, I meant what I said. I suppose it just took an altered state for me to relax enough to actually say it instead of just thinking at you and assuming you would know. I must admit, its difficult for me to maintain this emotional honesty without feeling drunk, but it’s good. This is good.”

“Ah, that’s... wow. So you weren’t drugged? Cody was concerned you seemed to off for much you actually drank.”

Obi-Wan frowned. Hadn’t that been a trip? Vision blurring from desert hovel to some nameless Catina he once visited with Cody. The continuity since then was almost unsettling. But, then again, Obi-Wan always did have a remarkable talent for self-delusion, didn’t he. He waved away the concerns.

“My substance consumption was entirely deliberate and exactly what I needed. There might have been some unknown additions with some unforeseen after-affects, but like I said- I’m not drunk. I’m clear minded and in full control right now and I knowingly accept the current fallout from whatever I took. I could meditate and force purge to completely recenter, but I think it would be far wiser to just see where this goes. Do you disagree, Anakin?”

Anakin grinned widely. “Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just remember this is your idea. Also, I’m taking you to the healers tonight if you’re not completely back to yourself.”

Obi-Wan signed, “If I’m not back to myself in 12 hours, than I fully agree that’s a problem worthy of the halls of healing.”

“Right,” Anakin nodded decisively, “I’ll go get you some water then comm Cody to tell him you’re still alive.

Obi-Wan smiled weakly in response. This wasn’t just a hashed up memory; the responsiveness was more that. He quickly got dressed, hands lingering over soft fabrics and sand-free linens.

Anakin dropped off a cup of water; Obi-Wan sipped at it hesitantly. Dear force, this was dangerously vivid. It actually felt like a relief in his parched mouth. Clearly his subconscious was pulling out all the stops to trap him in this soft delusion. He would have to deal with the thirst and hunger until he woke up- it was probably the firmest link he had to his real body.

He took one last look around before rushing out of his room, eager to take advantage of the time.

Anakin looked nervously up from the comm when Obi-Wan started pulling his boots on. “You’re not going out in the temple like this, are you?”

“Of course! I want to visit the gardens and the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Not to mention spend some time with a few of the other Jedi. You might still be the dearest being in my heart, but there were other Jedi that I care for, and dammit I’m going to tell them that.” He finally finished lacing up his left leg and moved to the right.

Anakin was dumbstruck, presumably as burnt by the ‘dearest being’ comment as Obi-Wan was. Then he rallied, “Wow, wow, No. You are not running around the temple drugged so you can, I don’t know, give Mace Windu a hug. I thought when you said you were going to ‘deal with the fallout' from whatever the kriff you’re still on, you meant you were going to lounge around the quarters all day!”

His former padawan physically blocked the door when Obi-Wan started to leave, sounding vaguely hysterical, “You can’t run around loopy! You’re a High Council Member!”

“Not anymore,” Obi-Wan replied bitterly. 

“What do you mean not anymore,” Anakin said fiercely, grabbing on to his shoulders . “Did they kick you out? Is that why you’re acting crazy? Did you resign?”

Obi-Wan responded by pulling Anakin into a hug, which was immediately returned, “Of course not, don’t be absurd. Fine, I suppose I’m technically still a high council member, it just seems like a bit of a moot point.”

“What the kark does that mean? You used to dream about being on the council! You’re the wisest Master in any of those stupid chairs!”

‘Master of the High Council’ Kenobi just sighed heavily in response. He maneuvered around the confused errant Knight and into the hall. 

"Obi-Wan wait! At least eat something first! Or let me put my shoes on!”

“Very well, you have one minute to make yourself presentable. I only have a few hours before I’m going to need to get back to reality, and the longer I linger the more I fear extreme measures may be necessary.”

“What does that mean?” Anakin shouted from inside. “Extreme measures sounds really ominous, you know.”

“I’d rather not get into it, alright? Let’s just enjoy the here-and-now, eh, ad’ika?

Anakin crashed out the door with less than a second to spare. “What did you just call me?"

“Ad’ika,” Obi-Wan answered, striding down the hallway in the direction of the hanging gardens. “Surely you must have picked up some Mando’a from the troopers?”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if I heard you right, bu- um- ori'vod,” Anakin fumbled out. “Uh, you’re not going to call me that in front of anyone else, right? You do remember that the council already gives us the side eye for over-attachment right?”

Obi-Wan hummed thought fully in responded. “There are far worse things a Jedi could do than admit to affection they already feel. Maybe if I had been honest about my attachments, they wouldn’t have ended the way that...” he trailed off quietly.

“The way that what,” Anakin asked frustrated. “You’re really giving me some emotional whiplash over here, and I’m starting to think that putting off dragging you to the healers is a stupid idea.

“There are far stupider things a Jedi could do,” he responded cheerily. “Oh look, there’s Plo Koon. MASTER KOON!” He shouted, startling the Kel Doran Jedi.

“Yes, Master Kenobi?” He replied slightly concerned as the two human Jedi came jogging over.

“I just wanted to say that I consider my former padawan my family. I raised him, I care for him deeply, and I don’t want to let go of those feelings.”

Plo Koon nodded seriously in response. “I feel just the same about my former padawans, and the Wolffe pack, of course. Denying my attachments isn’t, personally, a practical way to handle them. I’d rather honestly live as an imperfect Jedi than pretend to be a perfect example of the code. If I must have some imbalance, I’d rather it be an excess of compassion than a dearth,” he replied earnestly.

“I always admired that about you,” Obi-Wan replied ruefully. “This might be a little odd, but could I have a hug? I hold you in the highest regard and I’ve realized that there are so many Jedi that I never directly expressed my affection for and...”

Plo Koon didn’t wait for Obi-Wan to finish before wrapping his arms around him. “Of course, dear boy. You’ve had such heavy burdens placed on your shoulders during your life, especially in the last few years; it saddens me to see how deeply they’ve weighed you down. If there’s anything I can do to help, in any way, you simply have to ask.”

Obi-Wan sniffled slightly into Plo’s Shoulder while Plo rubbed soothing circles over his back.

A few passing Jedi gave the embracing Masters uncomfortable looks before hurrying on their way. Anakin stood slack-jawed.

When they finally pulled back, Plo Koon hesitated before finally asking, “I don’t mean to pry, but what brought all this on? I can sense much grief from you, even through your impressive shields.”

“It’s a long story,” Obi-Wan replied, wiping at the corner of his eyes. “I’d rather not get into it.”

“He’s high,” Anakin offered bluntly. “He took something last night and won’t go to medical wing.”

“Ah,” Plo said. “Is that true?”

Obi-Wan looked a little embarrassed. “I have the situation under control. My connection with reality might be...slightly altered right now, but my emotions, and what I chose to do with them are my own. I’m just, taking advantage of a unique opportunity to express myself.”

Plo Koon seemed to scrutinize him intensely, “If you’re sure this is what you need, than I support you. Just don’t do anything too foolish.” he finally offered.

Obi-Wan beamed. “I appreciate you saying so, I thought you would be supportive. Farewell, Master Koon”

Obi-Wan offered a respectful bow and then turned to walk away briskly. Before Anakin could follow, Plo rested a claw on his arm. 

“Feel free to comm me if his behavior reaches a point where you think he truly needs a healer. I’m happy to help you drag him there if need be. A little cathartic release isn’t in of itself such a bad thing, but if he starts acting too out of control...”

Anakin nodded in acknowledgment, then ran off to see who else Obi-Wan had chosen to throw himself at.

Part Four

[aricazorel]

10. An alternate ending to an episode or scene?

Thank you for the ask! Sorry it took me a while to get to it...

This is from a meme about things you might have done differently from a movie/series/video game you like. I can't find the original meme because my timeline ate it but anyway...

This is for Mass Effect 1. Kaidan Alenko x Rebecca Shepard. 2933 words. The scene is the part of the debriefing after the Virmire mission if you choose to save Kaidan. I don't necessarily like the dialogue choices during the debrief or the conversation you can have right after. To me it didn't deal with the consequences of the choice made on Virmire very well, especially if Kaidan and Shepard were together. Here's my version:

"Why me?"

“I can’t believe Ash didn’t make. How could we just leave her down there?” Kaidan said in quiet shock during the debriefing after the Virmire mission. His words giving voice to everyone’s thoughts. While a success, that victory had come with a price. A high price.

“Williams knew the risks going in. She gave her life to save the rest of us,” Commander Rebecca Shepard said evenly, honestly. The Lt. knew what she said was true. They all did, but that didn’t make it any easier to hear.

“Why me?” Alenko pushed, his expression one of incomprehension. Everyone knew the bomb would have gone off regardless of whether he had been saved or not. No one had questions the command decision Shepard had made on Virmire. Everyone knew the stakes and supported the call that had been made, placing no blame on their commanding officer.

“We had to leave her behind. Saren has to be stopped. At anycost,” Shepard explained, pushing aside her own regret and guilt to help her Lt. deal with his own.

“Why not her?” he asked with soulful eyes. The very eyes she had come to know so well. The ones she looked to for reassurance and sometimes guidance. Something she had never done before with anyone, not since becoming an N7. Now they looked for a reason for the outcome of the mission, someone or something to blame.

“There was no time. I couldn’t save you both.” She admitted the awful truth in a quieter tone, knowing full well the rest of the group could still hear her. This wasn’t a conversation they should have in front of others, but he needed something, and she couldn’t deny him that. “I’m sorry, Kaidan. I wish there had been another way. But there wasn’t. You know that.”

“I know. And I am grateful,” Kaidan replied, his expression softening. That did not stop him from stating the exact cause of her own guilt whether it was true or not. “But Ash died because of me. Because of us.”

“It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault,” the Commander stated firmly, in her most even command voice. Willing herself, Kaidan, and everyone else in the room to believe it. Hoping simply saying it was enough. “The only one to blame here is Saren.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m—We’ll get it done.” Kaidan resumed his professional demeanor as he swiveled in his chair back to the center of the room. It was typical Alenko behavior and totally appropriate for what they had just gone through. The minor outburst however was not characteristic of the Lt. and she was sure he would insist on forgetting about it later. Maybe even apologize for it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t unwarranted.

The rest of the debrief proceeded as all the others had except for the somber mood and the empty chair beside Kaidan. Everyone filed out of the room when it concluded except Shepard who walked over to the consoles to update the Council on current events. As she did, the N7 noted Alenko waiting near the door as she punched up the comm channel for the Council. She turned just enough to see his face, his expression stoic. But his whiskey-colored eyes longing for something. What that was she wasn’t sure and until the next part of her job was completed…

She nodded at him even though he appeared to want to say something. She turned from him before he could as the Council appeared before her. Whatever he wanted to say would have to wait. It always had to wait…

~ ~ ~

After the praise and reprimand from the Council, Shepard checked in with Pressley before descending to the crew deck, fully intending to retreat to her quarters. Of course, that had been before she’d seen Kaidan checking over the auxiliary ops panel right beside the door to her quarters. She had suspected for a long time that he checked the panel more than necessary so that he’d have a legitimate excuse to catch her attention and talk to her. Normally she did not mind it. In fact, she enjoyed their impromptu conversations. She enjoyed being around him period but right then…

The Commander paused a few feet from her quarters, staring at the dark colored metal of the doors. She closed her eyes. She could avoid it. Call everything off. No longer acknowledge the growing relationship between himself and the Lt. After Virmire she should but…

The memory of pleading whiskey brown eyes flashed in her mind. Damn it. She couldn’t leave it the way things were. He deserved more. Ash deserved more.

She opened her eyes and walked the few steps required to reach the console…and Kaidan. She stood silently beside it, waiting for him to say something. She didn’t trust herself to start the conversation, waiting to know his state of mind first.

She watched him take a breath and then wipe his brow. He slowly turned towards her as he asked, “Anything you need, Commander?”

His tone was formal, just like it had been at the beginning of their mission. Fine. She could start out that way, though she knew that’s not how this would end. But she needed to be straight with him. For both of them. For Ashley. “I wanted to see how you are dealing with Ash’s death.”

“Dealing…ma’am,” Alenko replied slowly. His tone even, professional still. Maintaining eye contact. All the signs of a good officer. But that wasn’t what she wanted but maybe that’s what he did. “Sorry for anything I said back there. Adrenaline.”

She nodded. She had expected him to apologize, to downplay what had occurred. She doubted anyone else would actually mention it either. Everything was still too fresh but this—the guilt and blame needed to be addressed before anything else happened. Before it adversely affected the mission. Before it came between them…if there was a them. “I understand. I don’t like losing people either.”

“I’ve served for years but never lost a soldier under my command. Not to hostile action anyway,” Alenko admitted. Even though he had not been directly in charge of the mission, he still outranked Ashley. He had survived while a subordinate hadn’t either because of luck or personal relations. Maybe both.

Regardless the personal question the Lt. asked next was not the one she had anticipated. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you deal with the loses on Elysium?”

It wasn’t what she wanted to talk about. It wasn’t what would help her deal with Ash’s death. Not really, but maybe it would help him. If that was the case, she would indulge his question. “It was my job to get everyone out safe. I failed. I vowed not to let that happen again. Same here. I’ll remember her, and I’ll do better for her.”

“Yeah. I guess that is all we can do. Thanks for the advice, ma’am.” He responded with respect and professionalism. She expected no less from the Lt. she had come to know and rely on. What bothered her was the fact he wasn’t questioning her further about why she had made the call. Sure. What she had said back in the conference room made sense and was true but didn’t he want to know more?

She had come to accept that Kaidan kept his emotions in check partially because he saw it as being professional. But more importantly it helped ensure his biotics remained in check. But would this really cause him to lose control?

When she didn’t move to leave, he asked, “Is there something else, Commander?”

She frowned. “Yes. I thought you might need to talk to me.”

“Isn’t that what we just did?” he asked, his tone almost sounding flippant. Maybe he was trying to lighten the mood, maybe he was trying to act normal. Either way she wasn’t buying it.

“Kaidan, that’s not what I meant,” she said as evenly as possible, dropping rank and protocol. Maybe she needed to confront what had happened more for her benefit instead of his. But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t help him too.

“Then what did you mean, Commander?” the Canadian officer asked as he crossed his arms, his stance becoming silently defensive. His whiskey-colored eyes boring into her, not pleading with her like before.

He had apologized for the outburst. He had accepted her explanation to his questions. He said he understood that it was Saren to blame and not either of them. He had thanked her for sharing how she had coped with Elysium. He remained calm, rational, professional. Yet in that moment that was not what she needed.

Maybe she needed someone to feel the way she did. To question her. To not just accept her decision. To acknowledge that she had lost a friend too…

The great Commander Shepard needed more than just the acknowledgement of her subordinates, a pat on the back from her superiors, the thanks of the masses for doing her duty. Rebecca Shepard needed to know that she hadn’t crossed a line. That she hadn’t sacrificed a good soldier, a friend for selfish reasons. That she wasn’t turning into the monster she was supposed to fight.

Her confidence faltering as her Lt.’s eyes continued to bore into her, she began turning away. “I—Forget it, Kaidan. I—I won’t take up anymore of your time.”

The Commander façade she wore for others, for her own sanity sometimes, was fading quickly. She couldn’t let anyone see the cracks, to chance someone seeing what laid beneath. That she was not what everyone thought she was. She couldn’t let Kaidan see that part of her, not when he might actually blame her for Ash’s death.

Maybe she was to blame. Maybe she had been selfish. Maybe there had been a way to save Ash or a way to save them both. If she had only tried harder, if she had been quicker, smarter, more determined—

“Commander?” Alenko’s voice called out to her as she faced the door to her cabin. Was that concern she heard?

It didn’t matter. She was responsible for those under her command, and she’d just lost one more. A friend, and she wasn’t sure if it had been because of her personal relationship with a subordinate.

“I—I should leave you to—I have reports to file—I—”

“Rebecca.”

Her name. Her given name. The utterance of it was like a slap in the face. She wasn’t Rebecca to anyone on the Normandy. She was the Commander or Shepard. Only one person had called her that…

Her head turned of its own volition to the source of the voice. Whiskey brown eyes no longer bored into her. Instead, they studied her with concern and worry. She shook her head. “I can’t.”

She rushed into her quarters without further explanation. As the doors shut behind her, she stood in the middle of her room. The emotions from the Virmire mission breaking through the carefully constructed barriers she had erected. Very few times since becoming an N7 had she had those walls break but this time…This time was different. She was solely in charge of the mission, her own crew, her friends, her enemy. If Saren won, if she allowed the loses Saren inflicted on them to wear her down then it would all be for nothing.

Ash’s death would be for nothing. But did she have to die? Had it been a needed sacrifice? Was it the right choice? Was choosing who lived and died ever a right choice? He was right to blame her. It was all on her. She was the Commander. That’s all she was—

“Rebecca,” an all too familiar voice called from behind her as the doors to her cabin hissed shut.

She closed her eyes. He wasn’t supposed to be there. It was her fault. He blamed her.

“Rebecca, talk to me.”

“No.” How had he gotten in? Had he actually used the door code she’d given him? It would have been the first time then…

“Please talk to me. I’m—”

Shepard turned around, glaring at him. “How can you want to talk to me? I’m responsible for what happened! For what—For what happened to Ash! I—”

“That’s not what you said in the briefing,” Alenko said, taking a step towards her. He stood with his arms spread wide, showing he was not a threat. “You said Saren was to blame.”

“Of course I did!,” she all but screamed. “The bastard is responsible but so am I! I’m the one in command. I made the command decision that killed Ash!”

“The Geth killed Ash not you,” Alenko corrected as he bridged the remaining space between them. “Ashley would not want you to do this to yourself.”

“What does it matter? She’s gone, and she’d not coming back. What difference does it make? Why do you care?”

“Because I care about you! Because you aren’t to blame! Because you aren’t alone!” he said loudly, nearly nose to nose with her.

Shepard didn’t flinch. Instead, she stared blankly at him, saying barely above a whisper, “I’m always alone. I have to be…”

Strong arms suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into a tight embrace. A hand cradled her head as the other rested securely around her waist. A quiet voice murmured into her ear, “You are not alone. Not anymore.”

She wanted to protest, to tell him he was wrong, to order him to leave but no words came out. Instead, she went limp against him, relying totally on his strength for support. Kaidan accepted her dead weight without complaint as she began crying, her sobs muffled by his shoulder.

As Alenko held onto her tighter, he said with raw emotion, “You aren’t to blame. You were right. Saren is responsible. Ash knew what could happen. We all did. She went out the way she wanted to. With honor. Saving those she served with. Saving those she called friend…We didn’t kill her.”

Shepard threw her arms around Alenko as he sunk to the floor with her, both resting on their knees as she shook her head. “I tried…I tried to think of something. Anything. I didn’t want her to die…I—”

“I know, Rebecca. I believe you,” the Lt. soothed as he ran his hand through her red hair. “She trusted you to make the right call and you did. Remember? She said she didn’t regret a thing. You can’t either.”

She pulled at the back of his shirt as she fisted the material. “How can you believe that? I’m the Commander and she died on my watch.”

Kaidan pulled back just enough to see her face. He smiled down at her tenderly. “Because I know that you are more than the Commander. I know that you are human just like the rest of us. And I know you feel her death just like the rest of us.”

“But why—”

“Because I know the woman behind the Commander,” he said gently as he cupped her cheek. “I know Rebecca.”

“Kaidan,” was all the N7 could say as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. He didn’t blame her after all. He understood what she was going through. He didn’t see her as just a soldier or commander or CO. He recognized that she was human too. That she felt the weight of every decision she made and its consequences—good or bad.

“I’m right here, Rebecca,” he soothed as he moved them to sit on the deck plates. “And I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

She held onto his shirt tightly, refusing to give up her anchor. She knew he would stay. He would always do the right thing, say the right thing, be the good man that he was. He wouldn’t judge her because of the actions of another. He understood both the burden of command and the human emotions beneath.

He understood her.

Drawing strength from Kaidan, she knew nothing could bring Ashely back. At the same time a part of her recognized that the words he had repeated back to her were also true. Neither of them was to blame and if she had made a different decision more people may have perished.

They would do better next time. They would do better for Ash. They would end Saren, and she would make sure the galaxy knew a Williams had made that victory possible. Ashley did not die in vain. She was a hero and a friend.

And for those reasons, Rebecca Shepard would continue to fight the good fight with the continued support of those she had come to call more than comrades in arms. Those that she called friends.

Why me he had asked. But it wasn’t just a question he asked in that the one instance. It was a question she asked herself every day. Even with the knowledge that Kaidan knew the real Shepard and that Ashely both knew and accepted her fate, the question remained.

Why me?

And the answer was always the same.

Because she was the only who could. But this time it would be with the knowledge she had people who believed in her not just because she was bound by duty.

Kaidan believed in her.

Ash had believed in her.

Why me?

Because she wanted to, she had a personal stake in it now. Not just because she could.

Why me?

Because she chose to. To honor those lost. To honor Ash.

[starryknight09]

One last good-bye

Febuwhump Day 15: “Run. Don’t look back”

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“Run.  Don’t look back.” Rhodey pushed him forward.  Peter stumbled, looking at the man in shock.

“Go!” Rhodey yelled.  This time Peter listened.  He knew he’d be useless in this fight.  And Rhodey could fly.  Peter couldn’t.  Sure, he could swing, but only when there was something to stick to, which didn’t exist in the middle of this rocky wasteland.

He took off, sprinting as fast as he could in the direction of the Quinjet, not looking back.  They’d wandered far enough away that the Quinjet was out of sight, so he hoped he was going in the right direction.

“Helping Dr. Strange will be fun, you thought.” He mumbled to himself as he ran.  “Yeah right.”

He could hear the repulsors firing from the War Machine armor but the sound was barely audible over the stampede of all those things running at them.  He wanted to glance back to make sure Rhodey was ok, but he knew he couldn’t chance it.  He didn’t need his super hearing to hear the creatures gaining on him.  Rhodey could take care of himself.  He was a big boy.  A louder bang sounded in between repulsor blasts.  Rhodey must be pulling out the bigger fire power.

Run. He thought to himself.  Don’t turn around.  Don’t turn around.

Why had they ever agreed to help Dr. Strange in the first place?  This was way beyond his pay grade.  Some other evil wizard was messing around with bad sorcery and now Peter was running from weird spooky undead creatures.

“Karen.” He gasped.  “Any luck with the comms?”

“I’m sorry Peter.  Something is still jamming my communication abilities.”  Damn.

They never should’ve split up.  Whose bright idea had that been anyway?  Right.  Sam’s.  Peter hadn’t known him before, but it seemed like the whole being Captain America thing had kind of gone to his head.

“The enemy creatures are gaining on you.” Karen warned.

“I’m aware!” He tried to run faster but he didn’t think it worked.  He knew it’d be bad news bears if any of these things bit him.  Dr. Strange had been clear enough about that.  His only consolation was that he was in the Ironspider suit, so if bullets couldn’t pierce it, he was pretty sure these ugly things teeth couldn’t.  But he wasn’t absolutely 100 percent sure.  Besides, the suit wouldn’t save him if was overrun by these things.  The sheer number of them would crush him.  Not a great way to go.

They were getting so close he could smell them and the pungent smell of rotting flesh and garbage made him want to gag.  

Must run faster.  Must run faster.

Finally, the Quinjet came into view.  Oh thank god.

“I recommend you increase your velocity.  At this current pace you will not reach the Quinjet before you’re overrun.” Karen informed him.

Shit.

“Help!” He screamed, hoping another group had returned to the Quinjet and would hear him.  “A little help!”

A growl sounded behind him.  Way too close.  He turned around.  And immediately regretted it.  Man, they were as ugly as they were stinky, and he only had about a thirty foot lead on them.

This was not good.  This was so not good.

In the split second he glanced backward, he tripped.  He flew through the air before crashing to the ground and rolling across the rock laden dirt terrain.

I’m going to die.  This is how Spiderman goes?  Really?  He thought as he tumbled.

The instant he stopped, he rocketed back to his feet and started running again, even though he knew it was pointless.  Those things were right behind him.  He didn’t want to turn around and look.  He didn’t want to know when death would be coming.

But then from one second to the next, he had an idea.  He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before.  Sure, he didn’t have firepower and he couldn’t fight these things hand to hand, but he still had his webs.  Just because they couldn’t swing him anywhere didn’t mean they were useless.  He spun back around, trying not panic at the fact that the creatures were only like ten feet away as he shot his webs out across the entire line of them, sticking them together.

They fell and that caused their comrades behind them to trip over them and fall as well like a line of dominos.  It wasn’t a definitive solution, but it’d bought him some time.  The Quinjet was getting closer, and now he could see people running down the ramp toward him.  Sam and Bucky.  Wanda and Clint.  Scott and Professor Hulk.  Dr. Strange.

He wasn’t going to die after all!

And then the other wizard guy showed up.

Ok.  Maybe he’d spoke too soon…

Dr. Strange glided through the air to meet the other wizard guy in a collision of colors.  Peter thought his gold sparkle transporting rings looked cool, but whatever spell he’d just cast put them to shame.  Multicolored glitter sparkles fell from the sky like rain, landing on his skin but not hurting him.  They rested there for a few seconds before fading away.  A moment later he realized the noise behind him had greatly decreased.  He risked a quick glance backward and gaped.  Any creature touched by the glitter stuff started gradually fading away until they disappeared altogether.

It took him another few strides to realize he didn’t need to run anymore.  Nothing was chasing him.  Dr. Strange had eradicated the entire undead creature herd with one spell.  Wow.  There was definitely something to be said about the magic or mystical arts or whatever the man called it.

“Kid?  You ok?” Sam asked, reaching him a few seconds after he’d stopped.  The man clapped a hand on his shoulder and looked him up and down.

“Yeah.” He answered as he tried to catch his breath.  “I’m good.  So…now what do we do?”

Sam glanced up at Strange fighting the other wizard guy, the two of them periodically clashing in the air as they both fired colorful spells.  If it’d been dark out Peter could’ve almost made believe he was watching fireworks.

“Hell if I know.” Sam admitted.  “I draw the line at street magicians.  This wizard shit is beyond me.”

Peter huffed out a laugh.

“Hey, where’s Rhodey?” He hadn’t seen the man since he’d ran and hoped he was ok.  He couldn’t imagine the man hadn’t gotten away with the War Machine armor.  He took a few steps back in the direction he’d came, searching the horizon.

“Don’t worry.  He’s right there.  See?” Sam pointed up in the sky where Rhodey was flying toward them.

Right.  He didn’t know how he’d missed him.  His heart rate slowed.  Mr. Stark’s best friend was fine.  Peter hadn’t been able to save his mentor, but he wasn’t going to let anything happen to his family, not if he could help it.  And Rhodey was definitely part of Mr. Stark’s family.

“Watch out!” Sam yelled, but the warning came too late.  He’d been so focused on Rhodey he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to the wizards battling.  His spidey sense flared in warning, but too late.  He tried to dive out of the way, but the range of the spell’s blast heading toward him was too large to evade.  The globe of red light enveloped him, and everything went black.

Peter’s eyes snapped open and he sat up before he was even fully awake, the adrenaline from the battle still churning through him.  He’d been hit.  Where was he hit?  He ran his hands over the front of his body and looked down at it, but he didn’t see any blood.  And nothing hurt.  But…wait.  What?  Why wasn’t he wearing his Spiderman suit?

“Ok.  What the hell.” He mumbled to himself, holding his hands up in front of his face as if they could tell him.  But they were bare.  And he had on jeans ith one of his science pun t-shirts, which was the outfit he’d been wearing before he’d put on the Ironspider suit earlier.  Weird.  Last he’d checked he’d left his clothes in the Quinjet.  Maybe someone had changed him out of his suit and into his clothes?  He frowned.  That made no sense.  

Where was the Quinjet anyway?  Everything was a lot quieter.  He glanced around, taking in his new surroundings, and his face slackened in shock.  Because he definitely wasn’t in the barren rocky wasteland where they’d been fighting that wizard.  In fact, his surroundings didn’t look like anything he’d ever seen before.  Was he even on Earth?

“Oh shit.  Toto, I’ve got a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” He muttered.

The ground he sat on looked like water, but its surface was solid.  He slapped his palms down and watched as ripples expanded outward from them, like what would happen if you dropped a stone into water.  But he wasn’t wet or sinking.  Ok.  This was officially freaky weird.

“Where am I?” He whispered and stood, doing a full circle to try to orient himself.  It didn’t help.  Everything looked the same.  The weird blackish blue ground he stood on stretched out as far as the eye could see.  No other pieces of landscape pierced it.  The line of the horizon was only perceptible because the blue of the air was just a shade lighter than the ground.  The whole aesthetic was dizzying and kind of trippy.

And then he looked up.

“Holy shit.” His heart leapt into his throat.  The sky was a dark expanse of stars and galaxies.  And he could see a few large planets that looked almost close enough to touch.  It was terrifyingly beautiful.  He reached out and tried to poke at one of the closer ones, a red giant with rings.  It was too far away to actually touch, but the spot where his finger poked made the air ripple out in the same way it had on the ground, like the atmosphere was composed of gelatin that jiggled when touched.

“What the hell...” He definitely wasn’t on Earth.  What kind of spell had he been hit with?  Had he been transported somewhere?  Banished?  Was it reversible?

“Underoos.” Came a voice from behind him.

Peter stiffened.  He hadn’t heard that voice in months.  The last time had been on a rubble strewn battlefield, fighting for his life, and the life of the entire universe.  Terror gripped him.  He was afraid to turn around, and at the same time, he’d never wanted to do anything more in his whole life.  He turned.  And there he was.  Mr. Stark.  Standing there without a care in the world, hands in his pockets with sunglasses on and a characteristic grin on his face.

“Mr. Stark.” He whispered, unable to believe his eyes.

“Hey kid.” The man’s eyes softened as he took him in.

Peter just stared, brain unable to comprehend that this could possibly be real.  He didn’t know what to say.  He’d imagined so many times what he’d say if he ever saw Mr. Stark again, but now he could barely make his mouth move to form words.

“But—  How—” He stammered, not even sure what he was trying to ask, and then a thought struck him and his eyes widened as he asked, “Am I dead?”

“No.” Mr. Stark reassured him then clarified, “Well, not technically.”

“What does that mean?  Not technically dead?  So, am I not technically alive either?” His tone got higher pitched even as he tried not to panic.  He knew there were more important things to talk to Mr. Stark about, but he couldn’t think about anything else until he knew what was happening to him.

“You’re in the in between.” Mr. Stark explained.

He frowned.

“You’re not supposed to be here.” The man said, face showing his disapproval.  And Peter couldn’t help the small smile that cracked across his face.  He’d missed those looks from Mr. Stark.

“Then how do I go back?” He asked.

Mr. Stark shook his head.  “There’s nothing you can do.  We just have to wait.”

Not the most comforting answer.  “But if I’m in the uh in between, how are you here?”

“It’s too complicated to explain, but let’s just say I’m here to keep you company.” Mr. Stark smiled again.

And Peter finally let himself enjoy the fact that he was standing there with Mr. Stark.  Something he’d wished for more than anything.  He wasn’t going to waste it even if his own fate was uncertain.  In the next second, he crossed the distance between them and threw his arms around the man.  He was substantial.  Whole.  Mr. Stark wrapped his arms around him and hugged him right back.

Tears welled in his eyes, and he didn’t know how that was even possible, just like he didn’t know how he could hug his mentor since supposedly neither of them had bodies right now, but it was happening all the same.  

“I missed you.” Peter whispered into the man’s neck.

Mr. Stark brought a hand up to the back of his head and tangled it in his hair.  “I missed you too kid.”

Peter didn’t know how long they stood there hugging.  Not that it mattered.  Time didn’t exist in this place.  He didn’t know how he knew that, but he did.

And Tony didn’t say anything.  And he didn’t pull away.  He just kept holding him.  For as long as Peter wanted.

Peter tried to soak it all in and memorize every detail of the moment.  The smell of Mr. Stark’s aftershave, the scratch of his beard, the warmth of his embrace, how absolutely protected and safe he felt.  He tucked away every sensation and feeling so when he needed to in the future, he could close his eyes and recall it.  Because he knew he’d never get another chance at this.  

“It’s not fair.” The words came out before he’d even decided to say them.

“I know.” Tony agreed.

“I wish you could come back with me.”

“You know I can’t.”

“Do you…do you regret it?” He whispered his question.  One of the things he’d always wondered.

“No.” Tony answered without hesitation.

“Why?”

“Because there was no other way.”

That was true enough.  Dr. Strange had told Peter something similar.  If Mr. Stark hadn’t snapped, they would’ve lost and everyone would’ve died.

“But do you regret inventing time travel?  You could’ve lived a full life with Pepper and Morgan.” Peter had always felt like he’d been partially responsible for taking that away from him.  The way everyone had told the story, he’d been the catalyst for Mr. Stark inventing time travel.  And now he got to have this time with Mr. Stark when Morgan or Pepper never would, and that made him feel even more guilty.

“No I couldn’t have.” The man said pulling away so he could cup Peter’s face in his hands.  “Because I didn’t have you.”

The tears in Peter’s eyes slid silently down his cheeks.  “I wish you wouldn’t have done it.”

“I don’t.  I had to.  No regrets.” Tony smiled at him and Peter marveled at how it could be so soft and so sad at the same time.  “I love you kid.”

“I love you too.” He said back and fell forward back into a hug.  After another long minute or so, Peter gathered enough self control to pull away again.  He couldn’t stay glued to the man forever.  No matter how much he may want to right now.

As Mr. Stark let him go, he kept his hands resting on Peter’s shoulders, and Peter remembered another thing he wished he’d gotten the chance to say when Mr. Stark had been alive.  The man had done so much for him. Had become something of a father figure to him.  And he’d never verbalized his appreciation in any way.

“I uh I never thanked you.” He said.

“You never had to.”

“Still, I want to.  Thank you.  For everything.”

“You’re welcome Pete.” Mr. Stark smiled.  “But no thanks are necessary.”

“Is there anything I can—"

“I don’t think we have much time left.” Mr. Stark interrupted with a frown.

“Oh.” A short burst of panic hit him.  He didn’t want to leave Mr. Stark.  “What-what if I want to stay?”

“No.” Mr. Stark answered firmly.  “You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not your time yet.”

“So I can’t choose to stay?” He asked, but even as he did, he knew he never would.  He couldn’t do that to everyone he loved at home no matter how much he missed Mr. Stark.

“No.  That’s not how it works.  And you wouldn’t really want to stay anyway.” Mr. Stark said in his typical all-knowing fashion.

“I know.” He said sadly and then asked, “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Shoot.”

“What’s it like here?”

Tony gave him a peaceful smile, eyes twinkling as he answered, “Wonderful.”

It didn’t fix anything, but it was a small consolation at least.  A weird feeling started somewhere near his belly and spread, like a buzzing, tugging sensation.

“Time to go Pete.” Mr. Stark said, his smile turning sad.

“Mr. Stark.” He whined and leaned forward to give him one last hug.  He hated the feeling of being torn away from him.  Hated how similar this whole thing felt to getting dusted on Titan.

“I know.” Mr. Stark shushed as Peter clung to him.  “But it’s ok buddy.  It’s going to be ok.”

Peter gripped him tighter, but he could tell it was a battle he was going to lose.

“Bye kid.  I love you and I’m so proud of you.” Mr. Stark whispered.

“I love you too.” He said frantically, worried any second he’d be torn away and unable to finish what he wanted to say.  “And I miss you so much.”

He tried to hold on, but in the next moment, he was finally ripped away.

“No.” He protested desperately.  “Tony!”

“Tony!” The man’s name was still on his lips as his eyes snapped open.

“Hey, you’re ok.” Rhodey said from where he was crouched down next to him.

“I…I…what?”

“That wizard guy hit you with a spell, but Strange finally figured out how to reverse it.” Rhodey explained.

Peter blinked and looked around, recognizing his surroundings.  He was lying on a couch in the Sanctum.  It all came back to him.  The fight.  The other wizard guy.  Getting hit by the red spell.  Mr. Stark.

“I saw Mr. Stark.” He blurted out and Rhodey’s eyes widened.  

“I did.  I saw him.” He insisted, worried the man wouldn’t believe him.

Rhodey looked up at someone behind Peter’s head.  Peter craned backward and noticed Dr. Strange standing there, a neutral expression on his face.

“It’s possible.” Dr. Strange said.  “The spell sent him somewhere where he was neither alive nor dead.”

“Mr. Stark called it the in between.”

Dr. Strange nodded and Rhodey looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“Interesting that Stark was able to cross over into that place.” Dr. Strange said.  “You must have a strong connection with him for that to have been possible.”

Peter nodded, a lump forming in his throat as he remembered all that they had said.

Rhodey kept staring at him, his mouth open like he wanted to ask something but couldn’t figure out what.  If it’d been him, Peter knew what he’d want to know, so he answered the man’s wordless question.  

“He’s ok.”  Peter said with a small smile.  “He’s happy.”

[bethdutten]

Hard to Accept

Loki x reader.

2k words, I wanted to make this longer but thought I should stop lol (might make a smut drabble to go along with it though ;)

Requests open!!

I’m an exception, it’s hard to accept.

You were fully planning on feeling indifferent towards your partner once you joined the team. Loki was arrogant, rude and pretentious at best. While that never changed, over the months of having to depend on him having your back in battle, you at least became tolerant towards him. Then slowly, you began to actually care for him.

Tony was throwing another one of his fundraisers, this time to raise enough money to rebuild the chunk he’d taken out of the Empire State Building last month. You leaned against the bar as Natasha poured you one of her famous Black Russians, self-consciously running your hands down the emerald green silk of your dress. Tonight you were going to tell Loki how you felt.

Natasha smirked at your dress of choice, about to say something when you felt a hand on the small of your back.

“You look almost as good as me in that color,” murmured a deep voice in your ear, making you shiver. You turned to Loki, rolling your eyes to mask the blush creeping into your cheeks.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Loki ignored your question, his eyes looking brighter than usual as he asked his own. “Dance with me?”

You opened your mouth to give him a snarky response, but thought better of it. Maybe this would be a chance for you to talk to him. You nodded instead, taking the hand he held out for you and letting him lead you to the dance floor.

He was dressed in all black, his suit tailored perfectly and it was making it hard for you to breathe as he gracefully pulled you into his arms. You rested one hand on his shoulder, the other still firmly in his grasp as he began to move you through the crowd of people dancing.

“Nervous?” He grinned, the hand still on the small of your back pulling you just a touch closer to his body.

“Yes,” you blurted out before your mind could catch up with your mouth, feeling your heart start to thud in your chest. “I mean, no. Just worried you’re going to trip me in front of the mayor for your own enjoyment, maybe.��

Loki let out a laugh, the sound like music. “I wouldn’t do that, darling. I’m more creative than that.”

Before you could respond, you felt a hand touch your back just above Loki’s, shifting in his hold to see who it was. It was Steve.

“Mind if I cut in?”

“Yes,” Loki, snapped, his gently gaze moving from you to the Captain and immediate turning cold.

“No,” you frowned, slowly letting go of Loki’s hand. Reluctantly. “It’s okay, Loki was just plotting my death via ballroom dancing.”

Loki’s eyes never stopped their piercing stare at Steve, even as he let you go and into the other man’s arms. You turned to give Steve a small smile, and when you looked back in Loki’s direction, he was gone.

Steve began to spin you away, looking down at you with a concerned look on his face. “Since when are you friends with that guy?”

You rolled your eyes, sighing. “He’s not that bad, Cap. I don’t know why everyone thinks he’s the same person who did what he did in New York years ago. He’s saved my life more times that I can count--”

“He’s also taken lives,” Steve interjected, his frown deepening. “I don’t like him being that close to you. He may be a teammate, but he’s still a murderer.”

“So are you, Rogers. Forget about that war you were in?” You snapped, moving to pull your hand away from him, but his grip just tightened.

“That’s not the same and you know it,” Steve grimaced, stopping your movements in the middle of the dance floor while people still floated around you. “I’m just trying to protect you.”

You pulled your hand away again, and this time Steve let you. “You don’t need to protect me from Loki. I’ve trusted him with my life more than a few times now, and he hasn’t let me down. He hasn’t let anyone down, as far as I know. Give him a bit of credit.”

You turned and weaved your way through the crowd, heading towards the hallway leading to the elevators. You were done with the party. Maybe it was a mistake, thinking you and Loki could ever be more than teammates who tolerate each other for the sake of the world. It was a good thing Steve cut in when he did.

You pressed the button for your floor, waiting for the lift to arrive when Loki reappeared, lifting a hand to your face when you refused to look in his direction.

“What did he say to you? Did he hurt you?” You frowned, not understanding until Loki’s thumb swept at the tear sliding down your cheek. “I swear to God, I will make him wish he was never born--”

You leaned up and kissed Loki before he could finish, sliding your hand into his hair and tugging gently as he brought him closer. He let out a quiet moan, his tongue just barely slipping out to swipe at your bottom lip before he was pulling away.

You dropped your hand as the elevator door opened. Loki was staring down at you, his eyes a darker shade of blue than before, but as you opened your mouth to speak he suddenly turned, disappearing into the crowd once before.

You didn’t follow him.

--

Since Thor was currently off planet, the fact that Loki was an asshole towards everyone was unsurprising. The rest of the team tolerated him for the most part, although Clint and Wanda were openly disgusted by his very presence. So, Loki ignoring you in the week following the kiss wasn’t to be unexpected.

He walked out of the room if you entered, and seemed to forcibly engage in a conversation with Bucky over preferred types of knives during dinner to avoid talking to you. 

It was getting a bit annoying. You got that he didn’t feel the same, and maybe he even hated you now, but you were still his partner, and the closest thing he had to a friend in the entire Tower. The least he could do was be civil.

Five days after The Incident, there was a call through FRIDAY for the team to meet on the roof for a mission. You yanked the zipper of your suit up with a bit more force then necessary, sliding your last gun in its holster as you left your room just in time to see Loki’s cape flit around the corner towards the elevator.

“Loki!” You shouted, jogging down the hall to catch up with him before he escaped again. You didn’t want to have this conversation, but if he ignored you on the field the same way he did around the Tower, this might be the last night you had to be pissed at him.

He was facing away from you, his jaw a hard line as he waited for the elevator to arrive. 

“Loki,” you sighed, voice low in case other members of the team were on the same floor. “I’ll make this quick, okay? I know you hate me but I need to know you’re at least going to shove me out of the way of a bullet while we’re out there because I can’t fight alone.”

Loki glanced over at you, his eyes guarded. It was the first time he’d met your eyes since you danced with him, and somehow the view of him in leather and armour instantly made your legs weak. “I do not hate you.” he said softly, “Quite the opposite. It would be unwise of me to act on it, but I would never let you get hurt.”

You frowned. “Act on what?”

“It doesn’t matter. I am me, and you are you. I wish it was different.” He paused. “You need not worry about the mission, you could not have a more capable person having you back, I assure you.”

“Yes, Loki, you’re an all-mighty god who gets everything he wants when he wants, we’re not all as lucky.”

He was suddenly angry, his eyes darkening. “You think I get everything I want? You would not be so unlucky.”

He turned to leave, and you felt a piece inside you break.

“I don’t get it. How can you think you’re a god who deserves to sit on the throne as king while simultaneously hate yourself enough to think you don’t deserve love.”

“Because I earned that throne,” Loki hissed, turning to you sharply with tears in his eyes. “I did not earn you.”

“Loki,” you whispered, taking a step closer to him and closing the distance. “I don’t know what’s good for me, but I know what I want. You are what I want. All of you.”

“But I’m a monster. Don’t you understand?” As he spoke, his eyes began to change into a startling shade of red, his skin becoming blue and marked. You gasped, taking a step back, but as soon as it appeared, it was gone.

“See?” Loki whispered, a hand tentatively reaching out towards you. “You can’t even--”

You reached up and tangled your fingers in his hair, watching the way he went to speak before you leaned up and kissed him. 

His lips parted in surprise, and you took the opportunity to lick into his mouth, savouring the taste of cinnamon and a hint of Asgardian ale. You groaned quietly, feeling Loki’s arms around your waist as he took control.

It was deep and warm and a bit dangerous, everything you thought it would be. Loki backed you up against the wall, his talented tongue doing things that had you weakly leaning into him.

He took the hint, his hands sliding down to your ass as he lifted you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. You could feel him hard against your core, and you moaned at the thought of only a few layers of leather separating you--

Loki pulled away with a gasp, his eyes blown black with lust as he drank you in.  “You’re going to be the death of me, darling.”

You smirked, tugging gently on his hair and loving the way his eyes flitted shut in pleasure. “Not if you end me first.”

Loki’s lips ghosted over your jawline, pressing soft kisses down the column of your neck. “Gods, I can’t wait to just wreck you--”

“Reindeer Games? Did you fuck off back to Asgard with your partner? Team’s waiting on you guys, let’s go.”

You both groaned at the sound of Tony’s voice in your comms, Loki letting you carefully slide back onto your feet.

You licked your lips, tracing your hands down Loki’s armour-clad torso before taking his hand. “Later.”

Loki raised an eyebrow, but squeezed your hand gently, nodding. “I’ve waited for you long enough, my dear, I think I can make it a few more hours.”

You smiled, leaning up for one last kiss before you pressed the elevator button. “We’ll lock ourselves in my room for a week, sound good?”

Loki’s eyes darkened, but he sighed. “And what will the others think.”

You turned to him, seeing the way he wasn’t even meeting your eyes as he asked. You lifted his hand to your lips, murmuring, “They’ll think that I’m a goddess for finally making an honest man out of the God of Lies.”

[dimmwriter]

Malta 490-5

Universal Translators (UT) are one of the more critical devices that allow for alien species to communicate freely. They are located in the ear for most people but the location may change depending on the species’ physiology. Speech heard will automatically convert into the user’s spoken language, and anything spoken will convert to the receiver’s language if they do not have the technology. While I do not require one as the programming has already been included as part of my positronic database, officials from Starfleet and the planet Lenoah have been using them extensively.

Even so, it is not enough. The lenos’ language cannot be fully translated through the UT as a large amount of their communication is non-verbal. It has to do with the crystals embedded in their head--their “centers.” It displays their emotions as a series of flowing colors which has made statements such as “I disagree'' obsolete given that such things are openly shown. It has made communications between Starfleet and the lenos rather difficult, which is why I’m on the space station with them. I am acting as the lenos’ second voice.

A few generals thought that my job wasn’t necessary--especially General Zamani--but I see differently. I find it strange that the people who believe lenos should simply say what they feel are the same people who nod their heads in agreement or wave their hands in dismissal. It’s all the same really. To perform my assignment as a translator, I’ve memorized over one-thousand different colors as well as approximately five-hundred different combinations and their meanings. For humanoids this would take years to master (not to mention human eyes are unable to perceive many of the hues), I was able to achieve full comprehension in four minutes and thirteen seconds.

At least two of the five original crew members are always present in these conferences along with their planet’s government officials. Though Krona stayed on Lenoah in order to be a more direct voice for her people, I have been in regular contact with the rest of the group.

Currently, I’m spending my lunch break with Vron and Yingue, or at least trying to, “Why don’t you get something from the replicators? I assure you they can make more than the liquid rubber I drink.”

“Eating isn’t really something we do...in public,” Vron stated. “Either way I’m not hungry, the lights on this starbase are making me nauseated.”

“No matter then, we could move to a dimmer area if you all would like. I can drink this just about anywhere.”

Vron shared a glance to Yingue before agreeing.

I brought them to one of the many large viewpoints that looked outwards into space. These places were often dimmed in order to enhance the experience. Together the three of us sat and watched for some time in silence when Yingue turned to me.

“Is the body suiting you nicely?” she inquired.

“Quite well thank you, it’s a lot easier to maintain than an entire starship.” I decided to keep the fact that Starfleet engineers searched every part of my suit to myself.

“Actually, I wanted to ask how you kept up with the engineering on the Malta without a crew,” Vron stepped in, his center gleaming with curiosity.

I figured they might ask that, and I’m sure they won’t like the answer I’m going to have to give them, “I will have to ask my superior to discuss that, I will try my best to persuade him for you two.” Zamani would say no, I knew he would.

Somewhat heavy footsteps stopped at my side, General Zamani.

“Malta 490-5, walk with me to my office if you will,” he said in a low voice. “Sorry to take them from you, it’ll be returned shortly.” Malta 4 is simply an abbreviation of my name: 490 is my issued number while 5 is the edition of the Malta starship I was assigned to. Before my assignment with the Malta, most referred to me as 490. Can’t say that I’ve missed it.

His office was as cold and stale as ever, “I wanted to discuss the next meeting that will be held in a couple of hours.”

“Is there something wrong General?”

“Nothing is wrong, but I would like a few changes,” he said. Based on the way he was speaking, I figured that this request had little to do with Starfleet, but his own motives instead. “This next conference deals with matters of security that I feel uncomfortable sharing with...someone who doesn’t have the credentials.”

“You’re referring to me, correct?” It is true, I’m technically classified as an ensign even though I can perform at a much more efficient rate than organics. Becoming a lieutenant wouldn’t be too difficult if it weren’t for the fact that most people aren’t willing to test androids.

“Correct. As you might have guessed, this isn’t an order but a personal favor. Please do your best to make yourself scarce.” He stood and took a beverage from the replicator while I processed what he said. No one was really forcing me to go to these conferences; if I didn’t want to go, I truly didn’t have to.

Time to be bold, “And if I were to refuse?”

General Zamani paused from behind his chair before saying, “The choice is up to you 490,” he said. “The Malta shouldn’t be left docked at some starbase. If you’re too busy to pilot, then I can find someone else to take over. However, I’d be willing to put you back on your original mission and forget past mistakes.”

He couldn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to, but taking away my ability to space travel was purely his choice. This was a threat, and I have a theory as to why he wanted me gone: he hates androids and fears what would happen should they have too much power within the Federation. Prejudice was usual for someone his age, I was not surprised.

The General tapped his comm badge before I had the chance to retort and called Vron and Yingue into his office. I saved my words for their arrival and sat in one of the guest chairs. They took a minute and forty-four seconds to get here.

Vron and Yingue clasped their hands together and bowed at the hip while Vron said, “Greetings Zamani, what can we do for you and Malta 4.”

I decided to stay silent as the General explained the conflict of interest. The next meeting was about shield technology, which most seemed to know enough when it came to starships. Lenoah was offering to shield entire planets, however; planetary security shouldn’t be open to just anyone.

On a surface level, the lenos seemed to have no outward reaction to this request. Seeing as how rapidly their centers changed hue, I figured otherwise. “Have you brought this up with any of our diplomats?” Vron asked.

“I have not,” Zamani responded. “Thought it best to see how you officers would react first.”

“I don’t see the need for this change,” he continued. “It’s hard enough getting through your elongated speech, how will your people do when they can’t understand half of what we’re saying.”

“The decision is up to 490, legally only it can make a choice such as this,” he finished his drink, set the glass down, and sat back into his desk chair. “Feel free to discuss but keep in mind that time is running thin.”

“We’ll have to speak with Ali and Deligh before concluding,” Vron stated. “Malta 4 we will be in our shared quarters, please come by and let us hear your thoughts.” They turned and left without a word.

Zamani made sure they had walked away from the door to say, “These people don’t have many manors, do they? At least you refer to me as General.” I’ve tried explaining why they do not acknowledge rank often, he’s never been interested in what I have to say though.

I stood to leave, “Before I go, would you permit Vron and Yingue to examine the Malta? They are curious about my engineering functions and would like to understand how I manage without a crew.”

“And give away our technology, of course not. Dismissed,” he picked up a padd and began to scroll through the day’s reports.

“As you wish sir.”

I knew this would be his answer, and yet it didn’t prevent my disdain. I ended up turning off my emotion chip while leaving this office, no need for something that would only hinder my ability to work.

_____

“They’re taking away your ship?” Deligh asked.

“He’s planning on doing so, yes,” I sat with the lenos. “Without it, I’m uncertain what would happen once this is over.” That wasn’t entirely true, I simulated 387 different outcomes (of which only 13 had a high chance of occurrence) on my way here.

“Does that not violate a code of sorts?” Ali asked.

“Not exactly. Technically the starship isn’t mine, he had every right to reassign it so long as I’m given something to do in return,” I responded. “I would like you all to choose for me, pay my interests no mind.”

I took a quick scan of everyone’s centers only to find them in poor moods. They had a difficult choice to make: let me go but struggle through critical negotiations that required absolute clarity, or keep me here and take away my autonomy.

After a while of silent glances at each other, it seemed as though they came to a conclusion. Vron spoke for everyone as per usual, “It would be best for you to stay.”

Even with my emotion chip offline, I couldn’t help but feel a slight shiver down my person. “I understand.”

“We have to discuss this matter with our superiors,” Vron continued. “Try not to worry, we will do our best to come to a more desirable conclusion.”

I wanted nothing more than to believe them in that moment. They walked out confidently as if they had something up their sleeves but I found it difficult to care either way. The longer effects of having my emotion chip off began to set in and everything turned dull and numb. Mapping didn’t seem too bad at the moment.

[joiedecombat]

HOW WELL YOU KNOW ME

This one also ran out of control, which was... probably to be expected, honestly. I am sorry I took so long, I swear I will try to get my other pending prompts out faster!

25: The smell of ozone during a storm.

“Tell me you’re not thinking of going back out there,” Theron said.

Lightning forked through the sky of Yavin 4, punctuating his words with timing he couldn’t have paid for. The flash of it lit the guilty embarrassment that crossed Maia's face as she glanced toward him, before she raised her eyebrows and did her best to school her expression into one of surprise. 

Damn but the woman was easy to read.

“Of course I’m not.” The crack of a thunderclap almost drowned out her entirely predictable reply. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Theron cocked a dubious eyebrow. Sure, she’d shed her sodden and filthy outer robe, tugged off her muddy boots to wring the squelch out of her socks, and generally done a good impression of settling in to wait out the storm under the dubious shelter of the Republic backup comms tent. But he wasn’t a trained observer of people for nothing. He hadn’t missed the way her attention kept straying outward through the sheeting rain, past the encampment toward the jungle, as though her eyes were drawn to some objective a long way off.

Right now those eyes held his, wide and impossibly blue, a transparent attempt to convince him of her sincerity with eye contact alone. If he’d never met her before, it might have actually worked. As it was, Theron didn’t even have to say anything - he just waited, watching her expectantly, until she finally looked away with a lopsided smile.

Busted.

“All right,” Maia conceded, “maybe a little. But only thinking. I’m not foolhardy enough to try actually going out in--” she waved a hand toward the open mouth of the tent, “--that.” 

Outside, rain hammered down on the Coalition base camp in curtains of water, muffling all sound beneath its white noise and making visibility at any distance more like a wish. The jungle beyond the camp was barely a suggestion of shapes through the haze.

Another strobe of lightning turned it all black and silver for a fraction of a second. “Good,” said Theron, absently starting a silent count. “It’d look pretty bad for the rest of us if we lost the star of the Jedi Order in the jungle. Again.”

Maia lifted her chin, mouth opening to retort only to close again as thunder boomed with the force of a detonation. Closer this time, Theron judged - the worst of the storm had yet to hit them. By the time the reverberations faded, she’d tucked the flash of indignation away. 

“I made it back fine, didn’t I? Scourge and I just lost track of each other in the scuffle. It could happen to anyone.”

“Hmm.” It was probably some kind of character flaw that made him want to poke at that thin veneer of Jedi composure, to see the woman underneath show her face again. “‘Navigation sense of a blind mooka.’ I think that’s how Kimble put it.”

A flush of pink colored her cheeks. “Doc talks too much.”

Theron chose not to mention the rest of what Kimble had said after Scourge came out of the jungle without her, or how close he’d come to punching her medic in the face before Satele had arrived to lay down the law. He suspected Maia wouldn’t take his side, and that was a discussion he really didn’t feel like having with her right now. Or in general, to be honest.

The rational part of him knew he wasn’t being entirely fair. From Korriban to Rishi he’d heard Kimble lapse into alarmed swearing over the comms - a sure signal that Maia had yet again launched herself into danger without waiting for her backup - too many times to doubt how much the other man cared about keeping her in one piece. Theron still half wanted to punch the guy. The idea of listening to Maia patiently tell him that Doc was right, she could take care of herself and sending out a search party with a storm looming dark on the horizon would only have risked making more victims in need of rescue, prickled under his skin like an itch he couldn’t reach.

So Theron kept his mouth shut and let the drumming of rain on the tent’s durasilk canopy fill the silence. 

Silence didn’t seem to bother Maia; she wore it comfortably, never compelled to talk just to fill the void. Pretending to occupy himself with studying a readout on his datapad, Theron watched her sidelong as she undid the band holding her hair and shook it out of its half-collapsed knot. The rain-wet mass of it spilled down her back, dark and heavy and longer than he'd expected. With a strange little jolt, he realized he’d never seen her with it down before.

Why it should even matter, he had no idea, but suddenly the space inside the tent felt very close. The driving rain rendered the rest of the camp hushed and distant, creating an illusion of privacy - as though it were only the two of them on the whole jungle moon. As Maia worked at combing her hair into some kind of order with her fingers, Theron caught himself holding his breath.

She’s a Jedi, he told himself. Get a grip already.

Not that she looked like much of a Jedi at the moment, perched on the edge of an equipment trunk with her feet bare and straggling wisps of damp hair sticking to her face. The picture she made couldn’t have been further from the figure that strode out of the jungle in the midst of the downpour, covered in mud and worse than mud, her head held high. With steam hissing off her lightsabers and refracting the blades’ glow around her in a corona of blue and violet, she’d looked more mythical than real - like something sprung fully-formed from the point where lightning struck the ground, bright enough to burn anyone who dared come too close. 

Which was way too fanciful a thought for Theron Shan, and hard to reconcile with the very real flesh and blood of the woman who was currently biting her lip as she tried to worry loose a stubborn tangle with her fingertips. And just how she could be this much of a mystery when everything she felt showed on her face for the world to read, Theron wasn't sure. 

He never had been able to resist a mystery.

Maia finished bundling her hair up at the nape of her neck and secured the band back in place. From the way her shoulders dropped, he thought she might have sighed, but the sound of it was lost under the rainfall.

“To be honest…” She spoke softly, getting to her feet. “I’m not very good at waiting.” 

He put aside the datapad he hadn’t been looking at as she padded across the tent and came up alongside him. “We’re on Revan’s timetable,” she said, once more gazing out through the rain towards the jungle. “I just… can’t help feeling like I should be doing something.”

The storm wind blew spatters of rain in through the open tent flap. Maia curled her arms around herself against the chill in the wet air; this time, Theron could hear the breath chuff out of her in a self-deprecating little laugh. 

“Impatience is a bad quality for a Jedi.” She looked toward him with a hint of a smile playing over her mouth, eyes bright with the conspiratorial amusement of one sharing a private, secret joke. “I probably shouldn’t admit to it out loud.”

If either of them shifted even a little to the side, their arms would brush. The air felt charged, tingling against his skin, as though the slightest contact would send a spark jolting between them. Theron opted not to test the theory. “Maybe,” he said. “For what it’s worth, though, I know the feeling.”

Her lips curved, the hint of a smile warming as she studied his face with an expression akin to wonder, like he'd said something profound. “You do,” she murmured, voice almost lost under the rain. “Don't you?”

Theron opened his mouth to say - something, but the words didn't come. Reflected in her eyes he caught a glimpse of a silent understanding, a sense of being not just seen but known. Recognized. Your shortcomings are safe with me, it said. I won’t tell anyone.

Oh, he thought.

Lightning blazed blue-white and purple, sending a crackle of feedback through his implants; the explosion of thunder came only a heartbeat after. Theron hadn’t been aware of moving, but somehow the two of them stood face to face, unconsciously oriented toward one another and close enough to touch. 

Alarms buzzed along his nerve endings: Danger! Danger! Abort! 

Theron ignored them, distracted by a droplet of rain tracing a slow, glimmering track along the side of Maia's face. Curiosity was absolutely going to be the death of him, because this could not possibly end anywhere good and there were a million reasons he should be taking a step back, but none of that seemed as important just now as the memory of the way she’d kissed him in those last stolen moments before they’d pulled out of Rishi. He could practically still feel her mouth on his, soft and unexpected and careful of his split lip - the sigh that she’d breathed out as they parted feathering warm against his bruised skin.

If he kissed her right now, would she taste like lightning? Would her lips part against his, until the clean, sharp sweetness of the ozone-laced air after a storm raced over his tongue? If he buried his hands in the wet silk of her hair and bent his head to hers, suggested they steal away somewhere really private together to burn off their restless energy--

--most likely she’d remember who and what she was, and that would be an immediate end to that. But Theron couldn’t help wondering. 

Couldn’t resist the impulse to reach out and brush the back of his finger over the curve of her cheek, catching the raindrop that hung suspended like a tear. Her chilled skin warmed to his touch, and Maia stood very still, the trace of a blush tinting her cheekbones. She didn’t speak. He couldn’t be entirely sure she even breathed - or maybe he was the one holding his breath again. Maybe they both were, in case the wrong move, the wrong word, the wrong sound would shatter the illusion and bring reality crashing back in.

Any second, he thought, uncurling his hand to let his fingertips graze down along the line of her jaw. Any second now, she’d pull back. She’d turn away to avoid his eyes as she made some flustered apology, trying to pull composure back around herself like a robe. 

He skimmed his thumb across her chin, over the ridge of the little diagonal scar that he still hadn’t gotten the story of. Any second now one of them was going to have a sudden rush of sanity to the brain and it was almost certainly going to be Maia, because after all she was a Jedi and Jedi didn’t do attachments, and any second now she was going to remember that.

Maia’s head tipped back, tilting her face up toward him. Her lips parted as she drew in a quiet breath. 

Any second now...

“Master Jedi.” The brisk voice sent them jerking apart like they’d touched the same live wire. Sergeant Rusk stood in the downpour outside the tent, with a waterproof poncho draped over his armor and rain dripping steadily from his craggy face. 

“You’re needed at the command center,” he told Maia, stoically deadpan.

“--Ah,” said Maia, blushing hard enough to be visible from across the camp. “Of course.” She took a step in Rusk’s direction, realized she was barefoot, and hastily turned back to where she’d left her boots while Theron tried to decide who he wanted to shoot more, the Chagrian or himself. “I’m sorry. Give me just a moment.”

Under other circumstances, Theron probably would’ve enjoyed watching the truly priceless series of faces she made as she went through the unpleasant process of putting her damp socks back on so that she could shove her feet back into her boots. As it was, he occupied himself with feigning nonchalance and casually positioning himself just so at the opening of the tent, ensuring that Rusk couldn’t come under the shelter of the durasilk without physically pushing past him. By the time Maia had her boots on and was hurrying back across the tent to join the sergeant, he’d shrugged out of his jacket and had it in his hands. 

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

Maia looked at the jacket, then down at herself, before lifting her eyes back to his. “I’m already soaked, though.”

Huffing, Theron dropped the red leatheris unceremoniously over her head. “Just get going.”

She laughed and went, head ducked under the makeshift shield of his jacket as she darted out into the storm. Rusk nodded curtly and tromped after her. In moments the pair of them had receded into the haze of rainfall, splashing through the muck off towards the temp shelter that served as the Coalition’s command center.

Well, Theron thought. Shit.

He blew out a breath and shook himself a little in an effort to settle his jangling nerves, not that it helped much. Turning away, he moved to collect the datapad he’d set down, tapped out a quick command string.

By the time he’d satisfied himself that the tracer he’d dropped into his jacket pocket was reading properly, and that its directional signal could be routed to his ocular implant if he needed to, he had some of his equilibrium back. Another command sequence terminated the active homing program and set the tracer back into passive mode - a minor precaution, just in case.

There was, he thought, no sense in being excessive.

[primarch-blog]

Fanfiction: Redemption

Chapter One: Mistake  --- Somewhere in Deep Space...  A Fleet of Ships was currently floating in space...the area they had taken to be their temporary Home was spread. The Fleet was currently having a Down Time as their Primarch was choosing another location to set up. Since there was no Home world for them to settle, different locations in space or at times, Planets they have Raided. The fleet included Seven Frigates that were separated a few Miles apart, So their men could do training with their Ships..In front of the Frigates was two Large Ships, known as Battle cruisers. They were side to side, and way up ahead was the Primarch's Ship, a Massive Ship known as the Verdammt,The Battle Barge was crafted towards the Primarch's likability. The front of the Ship had a Large Skull engraved upon it.. Symbols of the The Hollowed Soldiers was to the sides, the ships colors was Black and there was small Markings on Green...behind the ship, where the Thrusters would be, there was two Fenders shaped as Skeleton Hands. The Ship's Weapons were currently powered down, but there was always someone on radar in case of surprise attacks.Each frigate was designed to fit their chapter, and each frigate was sorted with heavy weaponry.Within the Verdammt A woman was walking through a Corridor, as her Boots clapped upon the cold metal surface. Behind her there was two Soldiers known as Storm Troopers, their weapons out and following the female. The female's eyes stared ahead as she'd made her way to the Fortress Monastery, a Large Section within her Ship dedicated to the chief Liberian's Work. She was a Soldier first and foremost but she wasn't stupid when it came to past history, she could use the Library as she used tactical Information. The inside of her ship held mostly the most elites, and the most toys. While those inside her halls knew of her secret, they were Forbidden to speak of her appearance to the other ships. There was no reason for them too, The Primarch was a fair and Just woman, hatred towards her, for them to speak, was just out of the Question. The Ship was Clean inside, Large and filled with Trophies or Medals. Soldiers walked back and fourth and went to do their usual Jobs. The Upper part of the Ship next to the Captain's Quarters was her Rooms and Tactical Comms. In the middle of the Ship was where the Room and Board was. Her Soldiers where important to her, so they were given the area with more Protection, and that was saying something, because the Verdammt was a shielded and well Guarded Ship. She held up to fifty thousand soldiers with fifty commanders. The Fortress of Monastery was in the back of the ship, upper back. Close to the thrusters but it was rather Large with floors and floors for the Chief Liberian. Bottom of the Ship is where most of the Vehicles and Training area's where Located at. The weapons could include from everything to Foot Soldiers weaponry to Heavy Duty, such as Tank Canons or Ship weaponry. Below the weaponry and Room and Board is the Animal Flooring. Where the Horses and other animals are kept for the Military. This area of the Ship is heavily Guarded with extra Thick Shielding and Walls. The Large Skull of the Ship is the Battle Ram, the Ship is needed can Ram into Ships with the Skull.While Verdammt is a German word for Dammed, do not take the ship Lightly. The Primarch has Custom made this Ship to become Death's Knocking. While the Ship is usually in the Back of the Fleet, she can be part of a fight,With Heavy dorsal-mounted bombardment cannons.Each cannon comprises a series of heavyweight batteries, huge turret-mounted linear accelerators that launch salvos of heavy magma bomb warheads.While the original weapons are meant to bombard Planet's Surfaces, The Verdammt are meant for Space Ship Battles and Orbit Bombardment. Under the Ship with the Tank Canons there is also Plasma Weaponry of double Canons that shoot scorching acid towards incoming ships. A hit from the Double Canons can eat through a Fighter Ship in seconds until they rip the Ship entirely.(Think Aliens saliva) Within the Weaponry Compartments, Verdammt does have Virus Bombs and Cyclonic Torpedoes. Another Weaponry that Verdammt has is she'd specifically Designed to use a custom Made Turrets above her. The Upper part of the Ship is lined with turrets to do incoming damage to any poor Sod who wants to get to close. The Middle of ship is Littered with Canons and Turrets making Verdammt one of the heaviest and deadliest Ships in the Fleet. Primarch Void also made sure she was shielded. The Verdammt has a total of 8 Shields. Each Shield comes online depending on the severity of the fight, or the Warp. The First Shield is always online, and blocks heavy arsenal damage, The other shields will automatically turn on when the Ship Detects There is more enemies. Upon the Verdammt, there is an Artificial Intelligence that help's run the Ship. The Captain Runs the Ship, The AI helps the process.A gift from the Adeptus Mechanics cult. Primarch Void does not discriminate upon making friends with those who wish to be Machinery. The AI is fully under control and no rebellion has been sought. His name is Rache. Another German Name. Meaning Vengeance.He takes the form of a Servo Skull when he isn't controlling the Ship. Rache (Pronouce: Ra-Que) Rache has a personality that intrigues the Primarch. He's Stubborn and Insulting. He'll talk to you depending on how you speak to him. He Mocks and Sighs a lot. While he may be a Disrespecting Artificial Intelligence, He does as he is ordered or he makes sure the Ship is never in true Danger.The Servo Skull can be at times floating around the chief Liberian, and or Primarch. He doesn't stay in one place to long, always floating around and inspecting.--The Primarch had finally arrived to the Fortress Monastery, Two Space Marines were Guarding the Large Doors, they'd salute to her and open the Doors as she'd walked in. Servo skulls where Flying around everywhere Holding Large Books, Scrolls. She'd looked behind her and simply nodded her head, her Storm Troopers nodding and leaving the area. She'd looked around the Library, her eyes searching the area. Within the Library it was Large, Light and busy. Servo Skulls whizzed by and down and right holding information, Some struggled with the Weight of the Literature Books. The female walked forward, as she'd glanced to the side to see a Large Figure walking towards her. The Chief Liberian, the only One currently Living within the Library. His name was Crudus. Wearing the Armor of the Liberian, he was currently holding a few large Books before stopping and seeing the female. "Ah, Primarch. What a Delight to see you here."   "I came because I am in need of some insight.." She'd rock on her heels as she'd watch him walk past her. The Skulls above his head watching her as he'd set the large Books on the table. He'd turned to her as he'd sit upon his Throne, as he'd opened a few scrolls. "What is it, I may Help you with?" The female cracked a grin as she'd leaned on the table. "What solar system shall we invade next? I need to get resources for the ships and we are currently in a Jam.." She'd mumbled. The male blinked before thinking. "I can search Planets that have little to no life forms on them."The female was playing with the gold chains on her Belt as she'd nod. "That sounds excellent..but do find some life forms...my men are itching for a fight.." She'd stand up as she'd start her walk back to the Tactical Com. Crudus tilted his head and spoke. "Is this all you wanted? Why not just order  through the coms?" She'd walked toward the opened doors as she'd spun around before shrugging. "Im bored! Plus nothing wrong with some Exercise." She'd chuckle as she'd walked out of the Library, her Storm Troopers following. Crudus face palmed. Within the Tactical Com  The officers of the Verdammt where currently keeping check on their Radar, when the radar started to glitch. Alarmed they Called upon their Captain, which was Named Magnus. He was Captain of the Verdammt and was rather Good friends with the Primarch. Magnus walked over and looked upon the Radar. Frowning the scarred Man, ordered for shields to be placed and All Weaponry to online. The Tactical Room filled with noise as Soldiers and officers got prepped. Communication officers com'd their comrades. The Chapter Master's Frigates had also gotten their Radar's to glitch. The Inquisitors were quiet, they couldn't get communication with the rest of the Fleet. Now most of the fleet was aware and on their Toes. Maybe it was just a Glitch and nothing more? Magnus knew better. He knew to trust his Gut. The Alarm went out as Primarch Void walked through the doors, she'd saw officers walking back and fourth and Magnus stood in the heat of it all. "What's wrong Magnus?" The male turned as he'd grunt. "Primarch, the Radar is glitching. We've lost communication with both the Inquisitors Ships, and the radar's are also malfunctioning with the frigates." Void raised an eyebrow as she'd walked to her Throne, the Tactical Com Room was a place for Both Primarch and Captain.. The female walked forward as she'd glanced to the radars. She'd kept her Mouth shut, and placed both her hands behind her back. Magnus walked across the platform and barked out orders. "How long has this been happening now?" An officer looked up at him. "Five Minutes Now Sir." Magnus frowned and ordered once again. "Keep Shields up." Another soldier replied with a "Yessir"While in the Inquisitors Ships, Both of them where out of the Loop. Their Communications were in Dissray and they didn't know why. They had their Ships on the Ready, and Soldiers were ready to be deployed. Then the unexpected happened. Both their Ships started to Glow. The Inquisitors were barking out orders confused, Before a White Flash appeared and they where Gone. Without missing a beat, the Verdammt also started to Glow, before a white Flash happened and they where Gone.The Seven frigates stared as their Leaders simply vanished, before they scrambled. -------- Verdammt like a click of a pen, reappeared in Space, but different era and area. The Ship was in alarm, as Primarch was currently on her ass, rubbing her head as Magnus released the rails before walking to her, and pulling her back on her feet. "I know what happened." Their Ship was currently in front of a Planet, Blue with water and what looked like cities. The Ship had reappeared above earth, and small little explosions could be heard as Satellites that floated around the planet would slowly smash into the exterior of the ship, doing no damage. Primarch stood up fully and leaned unto the Rail. "Where the hell are we?" Magnus barked out again this time to Rache. "Rache, where the hell are we!?"A servo skull appeared floating around before he'd float in front of the Captain. "We seem to be in the Solar System...which would explain Earth...But my data isn't receiving anything from our home world." Void leaned unto the Rail as her eyes stared at the planet. "I don't think that's our planet Captain." Magnus glanced at her, before crossing his arms. "The Planet doesn't have the Imperial Navy hovering around the planet, and a planet that's not guarded...I doubt where in the Era we are from.." Magnus huffed. "What universe then.." The female went back to her Throne and sat down as she'd crossed her legs..."Let's go find out." She'd glanced slightly to the right, seeing the Planet's Hologram. "There's Something big in this Region. Let's go see." Magnus nodded and barked again. "Bring the Ship upon this Region." --- The Planet they were currently arriving too was Earth...the Year for them was 1982 and they would be in for a surprise. Those in South Africa watched in Fear and Awe as the Shadow of a Large Ship Slowly entered Earth. The Satellites that crashed unto the exteriors of the ship had alerted NASA and other space programs of something large arriving.Other regions of Earth saw the Ship slowly Descending, but upon South Africa, the ones who where really in awe was an alien species who had stopped doing what they were doing, as they'd watch the Massive ship split the clouds apart and slowly lower.They didn't know of the Ship's Design and they knew it wasn't human. Human's hadn't gotten to the point of space travel. Could it be friends here to help, or worse...come to terminate. The entire South Region watched as they'd lower towards their Own Space Ship that was stationed over the city. The Ship Massive compared to their own Ship.Humans military had started to immobilize towards the ship. Where they friendly? Where they here to terrorize? Now humans had to deal with something other than the Prawns.The Verdammt kept on lowering, as the female inside the tactical center watched as they'd get closer to the other Ship floating in mid air. It was rather small compared to hers..Half of her ship was still in the clouds.. She'd stand up as she'd walked to the ships hologram in front of her, as she'd watched the cameras. Humans. Humans lived here, as they stared upon her ship, but another species lived here as well. Her cameras capturing close ups as she'd watched these aliens watch Verdammt. She took note of their living conditions and how they coward in fear.Finally after a few minutes Verdammt settled in and Hovered to the side of the other Ship. Here humans and Prawns watched in awe at the Massive Ship. The Military taking notice of the weaponry. Primarch Void clapped her hands as she'd walked down the steps as she'd smiled, clapping Magnus on the shoulder. "While you figure out what warped us here, and how to get us back, I am going to go explore this new land." She'd grin, her eyes glowing softly. Magnus stared ahead and nodded. "As you wish Primarch." Void turned away and started her walk as she'd speak to Rache who floated behind her. "Get the Death Korps ready, I want a Thunder-hawk ready once I arrive." Rache answered with a affirmative, before his voice sounded through the ship.In the city of Johannesburg of South Africa Military was immobilizing.. Helicopters and Tanks were preparing..Humans ran around the city trying to get to safety. Void was currently making her way to the Hangar, as Marching Boots could be heard in the Distance, as Death Korps of Krieg were preparing.  "Lets see what we have here.."

[mandowh0re]

Trust

CH 3

Requested: No

Fandom: Avengers MCU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Female Reader

Summary: Reader meets Bucky while on a mission with Steve and Natasha to bring him back to the States and makes an unexpected connection with him.

Word Count: 2177

Warnings: Some swearing

Comments: I will be explaining past events as flashbacks for background as the story continues, this will be written in italics. Some details are purposely left out, but will come to light later in the story. Also, I paired Thor x Bruce in this fic because I honestly think they’re cute. Their pairing is lightly mentioned and not a large part of the story, but if that bothers you then please don’t continue to read this story. If things don’t make sense, you have an idea for the story, or a request of your own, please don’t hesitate to message me!

BIG shout out to @this-swede-loves-superheroes for being my amazing beta!

Happy reading!

Part 1/ Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4/ Part 5/ Part 6/ Part 7/ Part 8/ Part 9

Everybody turned to look at the two super-soldiers standing in front of the elevator. Bucky was slightly behind Steve with his gaze on the floor.

Steve sighed, “Could you guys not freak him out by looking at him like he’s the new kid at school?”

“Why don’t you introduce us? Are you joining us for dinner?” Tony stood up and began walking towards the pair, spouting off questions per usual.

“Tony…” Steve warned.

He held his hands up in a defensive manner, “Hey, I just want to meet him. I’d like to know the guy staying in my compound.”

Steve’s jaw tightened but Bucky stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay Steve, I’m not going to spontaneously combust or anything.” He gave a half smile before turning to Tony, “James Buchanan Barnes, but I go by Bucky. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

Tony looked at Bucky for a moment, as if trying to read him before extending his hand to meet Bucky’s already outstretched one, “Nice to meet you Bucky. I’m Tony Stark, in case that wasn’t evident. And it’s no problem. Plenty of room. Steve will give you the rundown of the place after dinner. I mean, that is if you want to join us. (Y/N) is making homemade lasagna and garlic bread,” He gestured to you, who was currently helping Wanda put the mixing dishes away while Peter was pulling out plates and silverware. You looked up and met Bucky’s eyes before Tony continued, “But you two have already met, so I suppose we should get you introduced to everyone else as well.”

Tony turned to the rest of the crowd in the room and began to list everyone off one by one, “The one with the blonde hair braiding the ginger’s hair is Clint. The ginger is Natasha, but you’ve also met her. The guy next to them with the book is Sam. The big guy in the corner seat is Thor, and the smaller guy sitting in front of him is Bruce. They’re kind of a thing. The guy sitting on the end of that couch there is James, but he goes by Rhodey which should make things less confusing for the both of you.

“The redish-purple-looking guy with the yellow jewel in his head is Vision. He and Wanda,” Tony turned back to the kitchen, “The crazy redhead are also a thing. And the child there-”

“Mr. Stark! I’m not a child!” Peter whined.

“Of course you’re not, spider-baby.” Tony called back, but Peter just crossed his arms and walked back to the living room, dropping on the couch next to Rhodey. Despite his resistance of Tony’s use of the word ‘child’, Peter was pouting and looking very much like one, “That’s Peter.” He raised his voice slightly, “Everyone, this is Bucky. Play nice, or Spangles here will have your ass, and I’m not gonna step in to save you.” He waved a hand in the air and walked back to his previous spot in the room.

Wanda followed Peter back into the living room, claiming her place beside Vision. You looked at Bucky and saw that he was nervous, probably overwhelmed with all of the introductions. So you decided to try and distract him.

Waiting until everyone was back into their normal conversations, you walked up to Bucky, placing a hand on his right forearm, “Bucky?”

He whipped around to you, obviously startled, but relaxed the moment he saw you, “Oh, hey.”

“Would you like to help me set up dinner? I could use some help.” You squeezed his arm just slightly in an attempt to encourage him, along with flashing him a warm smile.

Something in him seemed to crack, and he immediately relaxed, the tension he had been carrying since he walked into the room vanishing. “Uh, yeah. Sure.” His lips curled into a small smile and your heart fluttered in your chest. You had decided months ago, back in Wakanda when you had dropped him off for deprogramming, that you would make it your life’s purpose to make him smile whenever possible.

“Have you seen my teammate (Y/N)? Pretty short, long (Y/H/C) hair, (Y/E/C) eyes, probably walking around in jean shorts and an oversized purple sweatshirt?” Steve asked one of the Wakandan guards stationed in the palace. She shook her head, so Steve kept walking. He and Natasha had already checked your room, the kitchen, the common lounge, and he knew you weren’t in the lab because he had just come from there.

“Hey, T’Challa found her. She’s in the garden with one of the guards.” Natasha’s voice came through the comm in his ear.

“Thanks, can you go get her? I need to get back to Buck. He’s really on edge.”

“On it.”

You were walking in one of the most beautiful flower gardens you had ever seen in your life. There were colors and scents everywhere that were overloading your senses and it was wonderful. Every flower you could imagine was there and in full bloom. You wanted to dance around in the garden, but that would make you look silly, since there was a guard accompanying you.

Of course you had seen this place in passing the last time you were in Wakanda. But you were only here so that you and the team could learn as much as possible about your mutation and capabilities.

You found a patch of fully bloomed yellow Gerbera daisies, one of your favorites, and on a whim asked your company, “Could I pick one?”

She smiled for the first time since you had spoken to her; when asked her if you could visit the garden and she insisted on accompanying you.

“I thought you would never ask. Go ahead.”

You nearly squealed in excitement, and picked one of the Gerberas, and put it in your journal for safe keeping.

“(Y/N)!” You jumped at Natasha’s voice, not expecting her to find you out here. Since you were kneeling down and already unstable, the small jump you did caused you to fall flat on your back.

Huffing, you answered, “Yes?”

“We’ve been looking everywhere for you, why didn’t you tell us you were going somewhere?”

You pulled yourself up to a sitting position, but kept your eyes locked on the ground, “I… I did not think it to be a problem. Steve has been with James this whole time and you with Okoye.”

You saw her figure move down towards you and felt her hand grab your shoulder, “(Y/N), we aren’t mad. You’re fine to come look around. We just wanted you to come to the lab. Bucky wanted to see you before going into cryo.”

You felt butterflies suddenly take up occupancy in your stomach as you looked up at your friend, “Really?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Yes, now come on.”

When you made it to Shuri’s lab you had to take a calming breath before walking in. But that breath did nothing to prepare you for what you saw when you walked inside.

There, sitting on top of a metal examination table, was Bucky Barnes with no shirt, sweatpants, and hair loose around his face. You could have sworn your heart stopped in that moment.

What was that feeling in your stomach?

Wait.

What was that feeling??

Before you could continue your inner thoughts about what the hell your body was doing at the sight of a shirtless Bucky, he suddenly caught sight of you and met your eyes.

That was it.

This man was going to kill you by cardiac arrest.

You felt a nudge, and turned to see that it was Natasha pushing you, silently telling you to stop acting so weird.

So you walked towards Bucky and smiled, “Hello James.”

“Um, hi.”

“Are they sending you into cryo soon?”

“In about an hour.” He raised his right arm, motioning to the IV he was connected to. It was at that point you noticed his left arm was gone.

Must have been too distracted by everything else.

You nodded back, then gestured towards the open spot next to him on the table, “May I sit?”

He seemed slightly taken aback by the question, but agreed nonetheless.

“How long will you be here?” You asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Shuri said six months at the least.”

“How much of that time will you be in cryo?”

“I’m not sure, she said it depended on how well I was responding to the deprogramming.” You nodded, but before you could say anything else Bucky spoke up again, “You ask a lot of questions.”

Your heart suddenly dropped, “I am sorry, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable. I just… I mean…” You were beginning to flounder and made a move to get off of the table when you felt a form grip around your wrist, and looked up to see a confused Bucky.

“No, that’s not what I meant. Sorry, I should have chosen my words more carefully. I meant that I like that you ask questions. You don’t act like you’re walking on eggshells around me, like I’ll break with the wrong word.” You raised an eyebrow at him and he scratched his head, “Okay, not my best analogy. But, back in Bucharest, you walked right up to me even while I was still holding that gun, powers be damned.”

You giggled at the memory, “Yeah, Steve is going to ground me for that one.”

Bucky then raised an eyebrow, “Ground you?”

You laughed again, “Yes, I am the second youngest member of the team, though I am not an official Avenger yet. I am an adult, but because I am small and have a “baby face” they like to talk as if I am a child.”

Bucky huffs out a short laugh next to you. “Steve’s a punk. And a hypocrite. I seem to remember he was a lot worse of than you at an older age before he became Captain America.” He felt his stomach become feather-light at the genuine laugh that you made, “How old are you anyways?”

“Twenty-two,” you answer proudly. “I can legally drink, so I am not a child.”

“Of course not, doll.”

“Okay you two, kiss goodbye or whatever, I need to finish prepping Bucky.” Shuri called from where she was standing with Natasha. T’Challa, who had been talking with Steve, facepalmed.

“Shuri…” T’Challa warned.

“Everyone was thinking it, I just said it!” Shuri defended, never once looking from the holo-screen in front of her.

By now you could feel the heat in your face and you were desperately hoping Bucky couldn’t see.

You jumped off the table and turned to Bucky to say goodbye, despite the fact that you were sure your face was the color of a tomato. But you noticed he was completely drained of color, “Hey,” stepping forward, you folded your hand over his. “Is everything alright?”

He looked down at you and you could see the terror in his eyes, and that his chest was rising and falling too quickly.

You felt the air get knocked out of your chest and you had the abrupt realization that the last time he went into cryo was with HYDRA.

“Hey,” you gently squeezed his hand in an attempt to pull him back to reality. “You are safe here. Nobody will hurt you. We trust these people. I trust these people. They helped me when I first came to the team. You trust me, do you not?”

You could see his eyes begin to refocus back on you, the distant look leaving his gaze. He nodded.

“You trust me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” You opened your journal and pulled out the Gerbera you picked earlier. It was flattened, but still beautiful. “This is one of my favorite flowers. It reminds me of the sun. And everyone needs a little sun in their lives.” You placed the flower in his hand, and placing your hand on top of it whispered, “I trust that you will bring this back to me James.”

There was a beat, and then suddenly the biggest and brightest smile you had ever seen lit up the man’s face. And you decided it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He nodded at you, and you nodded back. Clutching your journal you turned and began to walk away when he spoke again, “Bucky.”

You stopped in your tracks and turned to him, head tilted. “I am sorry?”

“Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

You felt confused, because you liked the name James. It was a pretty name and a formal name. But he still had that dazzling smile on his face and you couldn’t say no to him.

You wondered if you would ever be able to say no to him.

So you simply said, “Bucky.” and walked off.

And that night when all you could dream about was Bucky’s smile, you made it your life’s purpose to make that man smile whenever possible.

-------

Tag list: @cutiepiemimi13 @serenity-schuyler @animegirlgeeky

[reyleaux]

because I'm totally ridiculous and this is my new platonic crackship: 18 for Ben Solo and Rose Tico as nerd teamup forced to work together and developing A Rapport.

biTCH ME TOO, THE FUCK.

special shoutout to @futurecatladies, who I know is always down for that good good roselo content. this is technically platonic with shades of background reylo, but i think with just a minor nudge and minimal squinting one could consider it roselo instead (or even ‘also’). 

--

Rose watches him work from behind, half grateful and halfincensed.

On the one hand, they’re barreling away from the Limiter, the First Order’s newestflagship, at high speed. She’s safe – relatively – and on her way home after onlya day in a holding cell that could have easily become an eternity. Things areas good as they’ve been in at least a week, and for Rose that’s saying a lot.

But on the other, the other half of this ‘they’ is Kylo Ren,the one and only Supreme Leader of that same Order from which they’re currentlyrunning.

He opened her cell an hour ago with a serious look on hisface that said he didn’t want to think about what he was doing. She nearlypissed herself in terror but put on a brave face.

“Here to kill me?” She asked him, impressing herself withher defiance.

“Shut up,” Kylo Ren said in a low and slightly nasal voice. “Shesent me. We’re going.”

“I’m not going anywhere,”Rose spat back. “Not with you. Who sent you?”

She could see the tops of his bottom teeth as he sucked in abreath. He closed his eyes. “Rey.”

She scoffed, put off by his dramatics. “Rey sent you.”

“Don’t sound so incredulous about things you don’t understand.”

If the look on his face hadn’t convinced her of the honestyof this frankly baffling admission, his sharp and perfect recitation of herlast conversation with Rey did. It was like he’d been sitting with them in herroom, taking notes on the strange and meandering argument they had aboutrepairing the new base’s laundry equipment.

It was, in a word, unnerving.

But then again, Rose muses now, watching dumbfounded as Ren’supper half disappears into an access panel on his own personal shuttle to rip out the fusebox that powers the ship’s tracker,what about him isn’t unnerving?

“Literally everything about this is illegal!” She halfyells, half hisses.

Kylo Ren grunts as he knocks against something on his wayout of the panel. He has a sparking fusebox in one hand and a hydrospanner inthe other, slightly charred from where she assumes he used it to pry off the fusebox.

“Appropriate that now would be the time I start living up tothe name.” He sounds almost wistful.

He stands and drops the fusebox onto the nearest surface, abuilt-in bench along the wall. He towers over her, but Rose hardly notices, confusedand on-guard at his cryptic admission. “What?” She asks, chin tilted high.

“What do you care about legality, anyway? You’re a Rebel.”

“What do you mean ‘living up to the name?’”

He looks taken aback. “What do you mean, ‘What do you mean?’”

Rose wrenches the spanner from his hand and brandishes it athim. “Don’t repeat my question back at me!”

“You don’t know who I am?”

“Of course I know whoyou are, Kylo Ren.” She spits the name at him, already tired of whatever gamethis is. “You’re the worst thing that’s ever happened to the galaxy.”

“No,” he says, a little quieter. “Before that.”

Rose grits her teeth. She wants to scream. “Out with it! Wedon’t have time for a dramatic reveal right now!” There’s a following pause andshe’s about to warn him not to bother if it’ll make her hate him any more thanshe already does, when—

“Ben Solo,” Kylo Ren says, voice low, eyes lower. “That wasmy name.”

She can tell he’s expecting a gasp, the gentle cracking of aworld-altering revelation. And maybe three weeks ago – before Finn and Rey andnarrowly escaping death on Crait and the First Order beginning its incomprehensibleand rapid implosion – she would have obliged him.

But Rose Tico is different now. More skeptical, yes, but alsoless afraid.

Which might be why she reaches up to grab his chin and tiltshis face down towards her. Her eyes skim the flaring bridge of his nose, thefeline tilt to his eyes, the unruly, triangular brows. She scrunches up hernose, remembering what she can of Han Solo’s face from the holos she’s seen.

He’s surprisingly calm for someone being manhandled by anenemy, if that’s still what they are.

Fair enough, shethinks, that might as well be true, too.

“Well, Solo, putit to some kriffing use.”

She can tell that the smile he cracks is supposed to becharming – that it would have been on Han’s face, all loose and careless – and shecould have expected it to be menacing, even sad.

But what it is instead is absolutely goofy.

His cheeks wing out and he has a gap between his front andeye teeth on both sides. Even worse, he has dimples. Rose can’t help herself.Her eyes roll back.

They’re flying through First Order-controlled space in aship that is (probably) technically stolen, possibly about to do irreparabledamage to the Order and definitely goingto do irreparable damage to the (probably) stolen ship in the process. Disablingthe tracker will be absolutely necessary to making their escape through hyperspace,but the entrances and exits of the lanes are now fully monitored by the Order,meaning that they’ll be apprehended almost instantly once they emerge out ofFTL.

No matter how much Rose knows they’re doing the right thing,it doesn’t change how kriffing dangerousit is, nor how stupid.

She tells him as much.

“Son of Han Solo or not, you can’t fly a ship that’s, one, ina million pieces or, two, booted by C-Dot.”

“Then let’s not get booted.”

“Uh-uh,” Rose says, actually wagging a finger in the face ofKylo Ren, menace of the galaxy. “Let’s just boot them first.”

“It’s an expensive ship, but there aren’t torpedoes.”

“No, we can be cleverer than that.”

“We?”

“What do you know about electrical interference?”

A distant, slightly horrified look crosses his face. “Some.Biologically speaking.”

“That’s fine,” Rose says. “I know enough. What weapons do we have?”

“There’s a standard short-range IR-73 blast canon mountedunder the hull and a miniature rail gun under the cockpit,” he snaps, havingwritten enough reports on this shuttle to answer Rose’s question withoutreflection.

“Wow,” Rose says, flat and sarcastic, “I’m surprised it’snot an IR-80. And here I thought you liked your guns big.”

She turns towards the cockpit and Kylo huffs something likea laugh and follows without thinking. The IR-80 is the blast generator thatsits inside the surface cannons of a star destroyer. Mount one on a ship thissize and it’d blow you back twenty-thousand clicks every time you fired.

“That’s actually—”

“What General Hux suggested in the armaments meetingyesterday,” she finishes for him, giggling as she goes to tap her handheldsplicer into the cockpit’s consol. “I know.”

Kylo Ren tilts his head, looking for all the world like acurious dog. Rose raises her brows and jiggles the splicer in her hand, a small,satisfied smile dimpling her cheeks.

“Didn’t have a lot else to do. Thought I’d get intel, listeningin on the monitors, got a laugh instead.”

Rose ducks away to focus on her task, muttering and swearingunder her breath as she fights the override protocols coded into the ship.

“Okay, almost there.” She presses a button and swivels as ahatch opens nearby. “Grab us those PPE’s.” She points and Kylo obeys, largebody crossing the cabin’s vertical and horizontal space with little more than astretch. Rose doesn’t bemoan her stature, but she kind of wishes she could dothat.

Kylo Ren tosses her a suit and begins pulling his own on. “Theoscillator, right? From the life support block.”

“Yeah,” Rose says, pleasantly surprised by his deference toher orders. “We’ll vent the ship.”

“Then move it into the charging block of the rail gun.”

“I thought you said you didn’t know much about electricalinterference.”

“I don’t,” he says, zipping up the rubberized collar of thesuit. “But she does.”

This time Rose’s brows and lips scrunch up with her nose. “Youmean Rey again. You can say her name, you know.”

His eyes sweep down. Rose’s brain momentarily short-circuitsas she recognizes the look and color on his face. He’s…bashful? Embarrassed? Maker,she really doesn’t have time for whatever thisis.

“You know what?” She flicks a hand in front of herself, asif shooing a fly. “I’m not gonna worry about it.”

He seems relieved, nodding as he pulls on his helmet.

“For now,” she adds. Butjust try to stop me later.

Once they’re suited up, Rose presses another button and thehum of the shuttle’s engine vibrates just lower than before.

After a quick test of the suits’ comm system and asuspiciously synchronized nod, Rose initiates the depressurizing sequence andthey’re plunged into the echoey silence of the vacuum.

They work with minimal banter this time, careful to avoid jostlingthe oscillator and hooking it into the rail gun’s generator system withcareful, coordinated hands.

Rose explains in a soothing, even rhythm how the oscillatorwill charge the rail gun bolts with ionic energy. At the low-power setting she’sprogrammed into it, that will make the bolts effectively nonlethal, but perfectfor their intentions. The ionic charge will ripple through the systems of thetraffic monitoring stations and reverse the current on board for a fewmicroseconds. They’ll essentially have a small power surge, but won’t gooffline. If they time it right, they won’t even notice the shuttle at all. Ifthey time it wrong, they’ll notice the shuttle but not its missing tracker.They’ll get by on looks. It’s actually…she takes a moment to be proud ofherself. It’s actually a pretty foolproof plan.

To her surprise, Kylo Ren agrees.

What’s more, they manage to pull it off. Even in two layersof gloves and a terribly restricting helmet, Kylo is a damn good pilot,managing to target the nearest waystation within microseconds of their jump outof hyperspace. Doesn’t even use the tracking systems. Is that how the Forceworks? Rose will have to ask Rey.

Or, well, she guesses she could ask Kylo. Once this is over.

Once they’re past the scanning range of the traffic stationsand have returned the oscillator to life support, they hang around in thecockpit, PPE’s half-peeled off with the arms tied at their waists. Just in casethey have to suit up again. Kylo taps on the ship’s cloaking and spools hisbody comfortably into the co-pilot’s chair.

“Shouldn’t you be—?” Rose asks, gesturing to the otherchair.

His eyes flicker to hers in confusion, then it clicks. “Iusually don’t, uh—”

“Oh,” she says. Huh.

He stiffens, “I can—”

“No, that’s fine.”

He coughs low in his throat, looking away and running a handthrough his hair. Scrunched up like this, he actually looks capable of feelingself-conscious. Scratch that, he does look self-conscious. Rose recognizes it,feels sympathetic to it, even against her better judgment.

Things have been changing fast, recently. She’s starting togive up on fighting it anymore.

“Also, uh, ‘shut up’? Seriously?”

He shoots her an indignant look.

It doesn’t frighten her at all. And from what she can tellthrough her steely and unwavering gaze, he can tell. His face softens just alittle in response.

“It’s been…” Silence stretches out as his gaze falls out offocus, swimming through the endless mid-distance of space.

“One hell of a week,” she says, “I know.”

He leans back and kicks his feet up on the console. “Ofcourse you do.”

[shouter-to-dead-parrots]

Short Story - “The Adjustment”

“The Director will not like your report”, said Eleanor.  “What you propose is insane.  How the hell are you going to sell that shit to anyone?”

“The numbers are all there, Eleanor”, I replied.  “I don’t like what they say either, but I’ve run them a hundred times with deviations on the scenarios and the results are the same - plus or minus five percent.”

“Plus or minus 50 million,” she said.  “That just can’t be true, Adam.  Did you use the standard projection algorithms?”

“And the advanced, and the experimental, and the old ones.  They all gave essentially the same answer.  All of the projections eventually converged within five percent of each other.  Three tracks came in less than one percent apart. 

“These numbers are as solid as our computers can make them.  Is this unbelievable? Is this totally insane?  Is it a ride on the WT&F?  Hell yes.  I wish they weren’t.”

The comm on Eleanor’s desk beeped. “He will see you now.  I don’t know if I should wish you good luck or not.”

I smiled at Eleanor and replied  “I don’t know either.”

I entered the Director’s office and walked up to the desk.

“Projection Statistician Adam Mackensie sir.” 

“Sit down, Mr. MacKensie”,  said the Director. “This is one hell of a projection you have here,” he said, holding up the data pad on which I could see my report.  “Where the hell did you get this from?”

“The upcoming year is a major inflection point in some major countries.  We know many of the current actors will be contending for power.  While the behavior of some of these individuals is difficult to project, a distribution analysis of their past actions does provide a basis for calculating their future actions.”

“You mention here that psychological aspects of the prime individual remain a wild card in these calculations.  Explain.”

“Psychological aspects are a wild card because there is no accepted method for factoring them into the projection process.  Several experimental frameworks exist but they appear to have very little shared theory and processes  - no easily located common ground.  For that reason I have not included such data into my projections.  However as noted in footnote four, one reasonable approximation of psychological aspects of individuals can be to increase the randomness factor in certain modelings.  I have done so for data sets six, eight and nine, for which this idea appears most applicable.  The original computations are, of course, also included.”

“I noticed that.  Your randomization factoring gives some very interesting and also disturbing results. In fact I find all your results disturbing.  If true, these projections are extremely disturbing. If not true, then this deviation from your usual standard of work is disturbing.”

“I understand,” I replied. “I hope these numbers are wrong, that I missed something important, that I made an impulsive conclusion which is not really backed by the data.  I am very disturbed by these projections.  

“But I know that just because I am not sure about a projection, that does not mean it should be dismissed.  Even if what I learn from it is what not to do in the future, all projections have value, even if they are wrong.”

The Director leaned back in his chair, listening.  After an eternal few seconds of silence, he leaned forward, placing his arms on the desk.

“I believe that you believe your projections.  I find no procedural or process errors in your computations.  I have no objections to your source data, though I think some of it is well outside our usual information acquisition channels, but that is how we get answers - ‘Listen To Everything’.

“You are not the first Projection Statistician to bring me a report like this. Two others very similar have landed on my desk in the last three months.  They were also disturbing and in places, terrifying.

“Now I have three data points - although your projection is not as … colorful as one your colleague’s.  But they all say essentially the same thing.”

“Thank you sir,” I replied.  “It is reassuring to know that others have followed the bread crumb trail and reached the same destination.”

“Now,” the Directory continued, “About this possible ‘adjustment’ of yours.  No one else has suggested much in the way of revectoring their projections - such things are usually way above the paygrade of a Projection Statistician.”

“Indeed so, sir.  I assure you that my projections were not influenced by my theoretical adjustments.  The adjustments are the product of counter-scenario infraction point analysis. “

“Yes, I recognized the structure of the adjustment scenario. But this is the most extraordinary adjustment I have ever seen.  It is also the most unbelievable and horrible one I have seen.”

“Yes sir, I am aware that this may fall into the category of world-wide effect with long-term alteration of societal and economic structures.”

“Well, that’s one way of saying it.  I trust you know what happened the last time an adjustment of this type was employed. It was meant to quickly end a terrible war but indirectly caused another more horrible and murderous war.  I’m not sure we made the right choice.”

“I agree that the 1918 adjustment had severe unexpected consequences. As did those of 1940 and 1943. I am fully aware of the hubris of attempting such large scale adjustments.  Understand that I would not have even worked on a counter-action had not the conclusions of all these projections converged at the same place at slightly different times.”

“This idea of yours would.. “

“Cause considerable damage and losses, but still orders of magnitude less than the projections.”

“I am not sure that I can agree with you on that,” said the Director.  “Our goal is to avoid as much trouble as possible, to smooth the road as well as we can - fill the holes, remove the rocks, put up guard rails.  We don’t blow up the road.”

“I consider this placing tire spikes on the road,” I replied. “We can see the bus weaving from side to side at a dangerous speed.  We know the driver is reckless and none of the passengers who can speak to him will be listened to. 

“I am telling you that the bus is soon going to take out a guard rail and crash into the ravine, killing many and wounding more.  Ripping up the tires will not stop the bus, but they won’t be going fast enough to breach the guard rails. Yes,the bus will be damaged and quite likely a number of the passengers killed, but more will walk away than be carried and the driver will be pulled from behind the wheel.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked the Director.

“No way in hell,” I replied.  “The probability distribution here is totally insane.  A million things could go wrong - and the outcome would still be better than letting the bus fall down the cliff.”

“You estimate the loss at about 1.3 billion, plus or minus 50 million.  Your adjustment comes in at about 10 to 12 million.  Still a lot.”

“The difference between going over the edge and smacking up against the guard rail.  I am not happy with any of those numbers. I don’t want any of them to be right - I want them all to be so damn small that everyone gives me shit about it.”

The Director is quiet for another eternity.

“Adam, I believe your projections.  Your work is as solid as anything I have seen in years.  So is the work of your colleagues who came to the same conclusion. If things continue as they are, certain powers will consider themselves totally unrestrained.  What is already bad for many will become horrible. It will only take a small match to start a huge fire.”

“And finally the long knives,” I said.  “Eight-nine percent probability of another world war within three years.  At best there would be about 100 million dead during the first week.  Then more war, more bombings, more genocide, more dying of a rampant contagion.  Hundreds of millions die in the vacuum where governments used to be.  My number of 1.3 billion sounds insane, but every projection gets there within twelve months of the war starting.”

“But your way could also kill millions”, said the Director.  “Do you really believe that this would properly adjust the vector?”

“All evidence indicates that Actor One would fail to manage such a crisis, bringing forth a chaotic response that would cause great suffering and damage and that would be enough.”

“Have you considered the unexpected side effects or consequences of this plan?”

“All that I can without trying to factor in more psychological vectors.  But yes, there will be unexpected side effects.  There always are.”

“Sometimes the ‘side effects’ are more important and more remembered than the actual actions taken.  And more deadly.”

“Yes sir, there are a lot of wildcards in this game, and we don’t even know how many cards are in the deck, much less who is the dealer.  We will have to deal with that when it comes up.”

“Not ‘if’?”

“We both know the answer to that,” I said.

“How do you get the tacks on the road?” asked the Director.

“The same way you always do - let people do what people do, despite being told how bad or dangerous it is.  But we will have to do a nudge here and there to keep up the momentum.  We both know that won’t take more than a couple of months.  And we have less than a month to take action.”

“Why hasn’t this crossed my desk earlier?”

“I did not believe that a projection of this grave a nature should be presented without at least the outline of a possible adjustment or revectoring.  I ran many scenarios, tweaking the parameters to come up with something better.  Time has run out for that.” 

“Indeed, the Board of Governors will not meet for two more weeks.  That does place a considerable time restraint on this plan.  I suppose I could authorize this as an emergency act, or conduct a flash poll of the Governors, but I suspect some of them would have considerable problems with this proposal.”

“I believe you are correct about that,” I said. “Taking into account the composition of the Board, I agree with your assessment.”

“Well thank you Mr. Mackensie.  You have left me with much to think about - and have nightmares about.”

The Director and I rose from our chairs. We shook hands and I turned to leave.  I was just about at the door when he spoke to me again.

“You are right.  That son-of-a-bitch is going to get us all killed.  This is an insane way to get rid of him, but I haven’t yet been presented with an idea that isn’t a hell of a lot messier.  It may be that we sacrifice the lives of millions than lose billions later.  We shouldn’t have that power.  No one should have that power.  Only God should have that power, and oh are we not presumptuous to believe that we are fit to wield it.”

“This was not what I signed up for either,” I said. “Maybe we are better off not knowing?”

“You and I know that is bullshit.”

I nodded in agreement.

“I dare not authorize this, you know that?”

“Yes sir, I know that.’

“What would it take?”

“All you need is a living body in the right place at the right time,” I said.

“Aren’t you due for some time off?  You have been working very hard.  Take a trip - see some exotic corner of the world.  And then go to Europe, Russia - take the Grand Tour.”

“Thank you sir, but although I do not complain about my compensation, such an undertaking is well beyond my means.”

“That can be managed,  Mr. Mackensie. That can be managed.”

The look on the Director’s face stifled any questions I might have had.  I understood.  Oh fucking hell I understood.

“Yes sir, good day sir.” I walked out the door of the Director’s office and heard it close behind me.

“How did it go?” asked Eleanor.  “Still got your job?”

I looked her in the eyes.  Within seconds she understood.  Her face went pale.

“Oh shit”, she said.

“Oh shit,” I replied.

[wispyatomica]

The Rabbit, The Rat, and the Hog (Chapter 6) - “Let’s build!”

Want to catch up or read the full fanfic? Check out the Archive!

Jamison was startled awake by a searing pain in his left side. He cursed under his breath as he slowly sat up off the cold flat table, moving his mechanical arm to his bandaged side. He examined the bandages for a moment, intricate metal fingers tracing the blood stained fabric before his gaze shifted around him. He recognized the walls around him, he was back at his and Roadhog’s hideout hidden deep within the wasteland of Australia. “Hooley dooley, That fuckin’ hurts.” He commented to himself as he slipped his legs off of the table, moving to the door slowly and stepping out into the open factory floor.

Roadhog was set up in a room on the opposite end of the building, one hidden just underneath the staircase that led to the catwalk. He could tell by the blinding light shining in from the western windows that the sun was about to set on another day in the outback. Holding his prosthetic limb against his injury, he poked his head into the room where Roadhog was working on his scrap gun.

“Thanks fer patchin’ me up, mate.”

“Wouldn’t have had to if you had listened.”

“Well excuuuuse me for wanting more excitement out of my life!” Junkrat responded with a giggle as he stepped inside of the room, leaning against one of the walls as he watched Roadhog work for a few more moments before speaking up again.

“How did we get out of there?” He inquired, his mind struggling to recall the exact series of events of their escape beyond that mecha pilot girl sending that cocky junker pilot flying.

“Your friend provided a distraction.”

“Friend? Whaddya mean friend? Yer the only one I’ve got Roadie.”

Roadhog pointed a hand upwards, lifting his head from the work on his gun and pointing at the ceiling. “That girl killed her own mech to save your ass.”

Junkrat tilted his head in confusion for a moment, glancing in the direction of the iron wrought staircase that was just barely visible from the doorway, and it was then that he recalled the entire scenario. He rewinded the memory in his head of when D.Va used her MEKA’s self destruct protocol and sent a decent chunk of Junkertown to rubble. He could see her once more emerging from the debri she used as a shield, and in the aftermath of that explosion, she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A grin spread across his lips as he looked back to Roadhog, pulled from his own thoughts.

“Y’mean that sheila’s here?”

“Yup.”

“...She’s alive?”

“Yup.”

“...You’d never bring anybody here, mate. Why did ya bring her? Don’t get me wrong, that explosion was quite a sight, but that mech she was usin’ looked like somethin’ from the pocket of a suit in Sydney. She might not be trustworthy.”

Roadhog shrugged his shoulders in response, facing down Jamison once more as the smaller lankier male adjusted himself on his peg leg. “She was going to die there, and she saved your life, Jamison. You owe her a thanks.”

Junkrat’s expression dulled even further, poking out his lips towards Roadhog in a pouting manner, a bushy blonde eyebrow raising as he sighed heavily, kicking himself off the wall of the room. “Alright fine, but you’ll neva hear me say it again!” Roadhog chuckled to himself as Junkrat exited the room, returning to his delicate work on the scrap gun as Junkrat scaled the staircase to the catwalk.

Hana Song was still completely knocked out from exhaustion. Being given a chance to relax and collect herself with a good rest was never more welcomed, even if the futon she was sleeping on wasn’t the most comfortable in the world. Nevertheless, she slept soundly the entire afternoon. The MEKA unit comm set she had resting on her head the whole time was lazily falling off the edge of the mattress, her body half under and half out of a large blanket. Her shoulder length brown hair was a complete mess; covered in dust, dirt, and debri from the excitement the night before, and her exposed face was no different. Soot and dirt were pooled on her forehead and cheeks, even a small sliver of dried blood rested on her forehead. Having rolled over onto her stomach, she unconsciously grabbed a hold of one of the nearby pachimari plushes, the toy buried in her neck as she slept peacefully.

Junkrat poked his head in each of the different rooms on the catwalk, until discovering that she was in their loot room. He saw her delicate form curled on the mattress, covered in a blanket and holding onto one of Roadhog’s prized pachimari toys. Whatever obsession Mako had with those toys, Junkrat would never know or understand. He carefully and quietly snuck into the room to get a closer look at the girl before him.

She was completely different from any of the females that Junkrat ever saw or encountered in the Outback. Her skin was very light colored, not tanned and her frame was so small and delicate it was like she had been starved, not too different from his own physique. Though her eyes were closed, he could see that they were much thinner and smaller, she was probably not from Australia based on her appearance, yet her clothing spoke otherwise. The maintenance uniform she wore looked eerily similar to the clothes that most junkers wore, which probably a good thing for her, it would help her blend in. Jamison focused on her face for a few moments, noting a large soot and dirt mark on her cheek, he chuckled slightly before noticing something odd: her breathing.

Even though she was lying down, Junkrat could easily discern that she was struggling to breathe, as her back would rise and fall eerily slow compared to his own. He tapped a mechanical finger against his chin, watching her for another quick moment, before he wanted to make sure that she wasn’t dying. Who knows, maybe Roadhog decided to poison her. He carefully clasped his right arm against her shoulder, shaking her slightly, “Oi, wake up sheila.”  

The movement alone didn’t seem to be enough to wake her though, and as a few moments passed he suddenly shook her very harshly, worried by the fact that she wasn’t awakening quickly. Hana remained unconscious for a few more moments, before she was startled out of her sleep by the harsh shaking motions. She threw herself up from the bed as Junkrat pulled his arms back defensively from her body. She began to breathe and pant heavily for a few moments, before harsh coughing left her throat. She doubled over for a moment, coughing into her non injured arm until her coughing subsided and she saw who was in the room with her.

Her first reaction was to scoot backwards and away from him, her mind having fully awakened itself now and recalling that she was accompanying two international criminals in their own base hideout. Junkrat tilted his head, his amber colored eyes rising up and down her form as she backed away even further from him.

“Woah woah, sheila. Easy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

Hana kept her distance from Junkrat despite his words and attempt to calm her down, she gave him a skeptical look, finally having a good close up look at the criminal mastermind. His body was abnormally tall, even hunched over in his current position she could tell that he had at least a foot on her own height. The skull tattoo ridden right arm sported an incredible, fully functioning prosthetic forearm, no doubt made with precision and care. D.Va’s eyes traced from his prosthetic limb to his shirtless torso, exposing his permadirt ridden body and surprisingly toned abdomen. When her eyes caught sight of the bandaged wound on his side, she eased slightly, returning her gaze to his haunting, yet captivating amber eyes.

“There ya go, now I suppose I owe ya a thanks fer savin’ me life back there.”

“You’re thanking me?” Hana returned, tilting her head as she adjusted herself more comfortably on her knees, her heart rate slowing from the rather sudden start she had moments earlier.

“Well mostly Roadie made me do it.”

“Oh. Well...You’re welcome.”  Han responded, offering Junkrat as genuine a smile as she could, despite how strangely awkward she felt in this situation. It was when Junkrat responded by waving an arm and slouching backwards,  that she felt a little bit more comfortable, allowing the tension in her shoulders and back to release.

“I gotta know sheila-”

“My name’s not Sheila.”

“What’re you spittin’? ‘Course it ain’t yer name! Sheila’s what we Aussies use as slang for women.”

“Oh.” How was she not surprised.

“I guess I outta know yer real name though, since you’ll be hangin’ with me and Roadie for awhile.”

“What do you mean awhile? Am I...a prisoner or something?”

“Oh no not in the least, girlie. With the heat of everything that happened back in town, it’d be best ta lay low for a few days before tryin’ to make a getaway. ‘Sides, we’re in the middle of the Outback a thousand miles from anywhere, you won’t be gettin’ very far on two feet when the sun’s high in the sky and cookin’ ya like a steak.”

Hana gritted her teeth for a moment, as much as she didn’t like it Junkrat had a valid point. She knew how far away she was from Sydney and trying to make that four hour journey by MEKA on foot would surely end in her demise. Her return to the city would probably not be welcomed by anybody at all either, as there was probably no doubt a search party looking for her where abouts by now from the Korean military. She sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair as Junkrat beamed an unusually friendly grin to her.

“Well whadd’ya say? What’s yer name?”

“ D.Va. You can call me D.Va.”

“Well D.Va it is a pleasure to meet ya, my name’s Junkrat and my tubby friend is Roadhog. As far as I know, I’m the only one who gets to call him Roadie and live.”

Hana chuckled softly as she adjusted herself once again in her sitting position, looking around the room for a moment and taking in again just how much stolen stuff she was surrounded by. “What is this place anyways? I’ve never seen a factory like this before.”

“Well it's obvious you’re not from the Outback then, these factories used to be all over the place, before those omnic blokes ruined everything. When the omnium exploded, everythin’ here went to shit. This place was one of the last few left standing, and once Roadie and I found it we knew we’d have a good place to call home, on our home turf.”

Hana nodded her head softly as Junkrat got up from his sitting position, practically jumping to his peg leg and easily walking out of the room, motioning for her to follow him. She hesitated for a moment. Well, there’s nothing better to do while the heat dies down, might as well entertain him.

“This whole building is our home and we use all of the scrap and spare metal to build things as we please.” Junkrat started rambling on about the various engine and robotic parts scattered around the room, it was similar to the mission briefings she would get in the good old days of her early Korean military years, she often slept through them or dazed off into her own world. If there was one thing that Hana could tell from Junkrat’s speech though, even if she hardly remembered anything that he said, it was that he was no doubt enthusiastic about everything as he was always laughing crazily or over exaggerating his statements.

“Oi, speakin’ of crimes from around the world; I don’t recognize yer accent. Where are you from?”

“I’m from South Korea.”

“What in the world is that?”

“It’s a country in Asia, just west to the cost of Japan.”

The description was clearly going over his head, to which she shook her head, “Never mind, don’t worry about it.”  “Heh, whatever you say Dee-va. C’mon, let’s go see what Roadie’s got planned for cookin’ tonight.”

The conversation wasn’t forced or extremely awkward, but the whole situation that Hana had found herself in was making her sick to her stomach. She knew mentally that she hadn’t eaten since midnight the night before, and no doubt her body was starving and yet she had no physical appetite. Nonetheless, she followed Junkrat as he hobbled down the iron wrought stairs, moving slightly slower than Junkrat. Despite the fairly severe injury to his left side, he still firmly planted his regular hand on the railing, flipping his body off of the side instead of walking down and around like any normal human would. Something about his eccentricity was very amusing to Hana, and she laughed as she followed Junkrat into the room where Roadhog was finishing up his work on his scrap gun, setting it neatly on a hanging rack on the wall.

“Roadie, meet D.Va!”  Junkrat exclaimed, presenting both of his hands with open palms in a very overly dramatic pose, hunched over as if he was announcing her presence to the very world itself. Hana very cautiously stepped into the room, noticing Junkrat’s strange posture and nervously waving her injured arm to Roadhog. “Hi.”  “Hey.” He responded in the deep voice she recalled from the night before. He waited a moment for Junkrat to move over and hop into a sitting position on a nearby desk to speak again. “How is your arm?”

“It’s doing better, I’ll make it through.” She responded with a soft, authentic smile, to which Roadhog grunted once more, before their loud companion once again bellowed out in his maniacal voice. “Not to interrupt, but I’m starved! Whadd’we got ta eat Roadie?”  

Roadhog remained silent as Junkrat questioned what they would be eating for dinner that night. She could swear that if his pig mask could show emotion, it would be showing the most unamused expression to the lankier junker. The former motioned his hand as he moved towards D.Va, who quickly stepped out of his way. Junkrat was the first to barrel past D.Va, eagerly following Roadhog into the open factory floor, with Hana following slowly behind. She felt a slight pain in her chest, perhaps it was from being scared awake earlier, and tried to ignore it as she watched Roadhog move into room where they had bandaged Jamison earlier. She watched as Roadhog opened a cabinet in the room, exposing blank silver cans which were then tossed one to each individual. “Beans, gotta get more food soon, ‘Rat.”  “You got it mate, we’ll go out tomorrow evenin’ once me side is all healed up.”

Hana caught her can of beans with her good arm, noticing that there was an easy open pop top. She opened the can and tilted her head, she was not all that familiar with canned beans, as it wasn’t part of her normal diet in Korea, but nonetheless she could feel the hunger start to slowly rise in her stomach, it would have to suffice. She looked around for a moment as Junkrat hopped onto the table he had woken up from and opened his can, pulling a utensil from out of practically nowhere and going to town on his dinner. She tilted her head slightly, watching Jamison devour the meal before Roadhog caught her attention by gently nudging her arm. She glanced over and was met with a spoon being offered to her, to which she thanked him and began to eat her own food. The texture of the beans was different, smooth but she did recognize the distinguishable taste of pork, it made the beans a bit easier for her to eat.

The western sunset on the Australian horizon shined it’s brilliant orange light into the open building, illuminating the factory floor in a strangely beautiful light. Once she had finished her food, she tossed the can where the two junkers had tossed theirs and placed her spoon on a nearby box, hoping that it would be there should they eat again. She stretched her arms over her head slightly as Junkrat and Roadhog moved past her and exited back out into the spacious floor. She followed behind soon after, watching as Roadhog scaled the iron wrought stairs and ascend to the room which she had rested in earlier. “Have a nice rest Roadie, I’ll take first watch with D.Va.”  

“Eh? First watch?”  

“Yeah, we might be hidden by that rock out there, but given we’re criminals and nobody ‘round here quite likes either of us, we still have watch shifts.”  

“Oh, I see.”

“C’mon, I’ll show ya some of my work!” Junkrat beamed proudly, motioning for Hana to follow him over to a crowded work desk. The desk was covered in crinkled papers, scrap metal parts, and various tools. The closer she got to the table, the more quickly she realized that they were intricate blueprints for various bombs, mines, and even some guns. She felt her jaw drop slightly as she looked over the various papers, picking one of the visibly older and crinkled ones up and examining it, while Junkrat plopped on a tall stool and began to work on the creation at the center of his table.

“You’ve made all of these?”

“Well most of ‘em. Some were just ideas, that was one of my first pipe bombs that you’re holdin’!”  

“Wow, this is really cool.” Hana commented as she moved a little closer to Jamison, watching as he delicately worked on a flat-bottomed circular device. “What are you working on?”

“Well this is one of me favorites, D.Va! It’s a mine that I use to help me get around.”

“Oh wow, but isn’t that dangerous?”

“Who ever said that I was careful?”  

Hana laughed in response to that, pointing at his side. “Yeah, that’s kinda obvious.” She watched as he worked so carefully on the device, it was shocking to her. She had hardly seen him sit still for that long of a period of time, she could tell that he was one to pride in his creations. She took a minute to think as the sharp pains came back to her chest, causing her to cough a few times away from Junkrat. She had noticed that the air was thicker, no doubt thanks to the radiation disaster years prior, that was probably the cause of her cough. With time she figured that she’d adjust, and it was as she was thinking about time that something caught her attention.

“Hey, wait a minute. Do you remember my mech suit?”

“Well o’ course, sheila! That was quite a spectacular clunker.” Junkrat responded as he finished placing the final wire to his concussion mine, nodding his head in approval and setting it off to the corner of his desk, turning his ember ridden head of hair to the smaller girl.

“What if...we build another one for me?”

“Build you a new mech?”

“Yeah, I mean I’m not really going to have much to do while the heat dies down on us. Besides, when we part ways, you won’t have to take me anywhere.”

Junkrat paused for a moment, tilting his head and scratching his chin as he contemplated her idea. It could prove fairly entertaining, and he could also learn how she managed to create that beautiful explosion. “Alright, let’s build a mech!”

“Yes! Thank you Junkrat!” Hana cheered eagerly, pumping a fist in the air. If her years in the Korean military had given her anything, it was a near eidetic memory of the interior skeleton and exterior shell of the MEKA units. She searched around Junkrat’s desk for a blank piece of paper, which she quickly found. She began to look for a pencil or something to draw with, when Jamison offered her one. She smiled softly to him, taking the pencil from his hand and slightly bowing her head.

“Heh, that’s the third time you’ve done that, sheila. Dunno what it means but it’s weird lookin’.”

“Oh, it’s a sign of respect in my culture, it’s second nature to do it.”

Junkrat raised a slightly flaming eyebrow, making an inquisitive noise before bowing his head to her in an obnoxious fashion, which caused her to laugh heartily. “Now that looks weird!” She responded through laughs, which Junkrat dismissed with a wave of his hand.

“Get ta work on yer mech, girlie. Yer crowdin’ my work space.”   D.Va couldn’t be all that surprised by his sudden change in attitude, she was after all dealing with an unpredictable criminal. She looked down to the ground, gently pulling the ponytail holder from her hair and letting her brown locks drape freely around her shoulders as she exited his work station area. She moved to one of the conveyer belts in the open room, moving a large box over towards the flat surface and sitting on it cross legged. She quickly began to sketch the skeletal structure of the MEKA units as best as she could from memory. Things are looking up. I finally have a way to get out of this forsaken wasteland and back to civilization.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

I Asked 10 Women to Show Me Their Ultimate Summer Look

https://fashion-trendin.com/i-asked-10-women-to-show-me-their-ultimate-summer-look/

I Asked 10 Women to Show Me Their Ultimate Summer Look

S

omething I really like about summer is how the weather provides an occasion to really get dressed where there might not ordinarily be one. Despite temperatures and humidity levels that might reasonably demand basic, sweat-wicking materials, it seems like people really take advantage of the vacation-like energy that appears magically in June. Maybe we’re nostalgic for the time in our lives when summer meant no school, no homework, no obligations. Maybe we’re just that sick of utilitarian coats. Either way, at least around New York, summer seems to have a way of encouraging us to add an extra earring or try out silhouette we normally wouldn’t. It provides an excuse to wear only swimsuits or break out the thing we’ve been saving, because if not when the sun is shining, then when? As a result, even in the least amount of clothes, everyone appears so much more fully dressed in June, July and August. And it’s so much fun to look at.

Because I can’t get enough, I asked 10 women to show me their Summer Looks, capital S, capital L — the outfit they keep wearing over and over because it so perfectly captures who they right now — plus what inspired them, how they feel in them and, for very important context, their go-to summer drinks.

Senior Market Editor at The Cut, @chupsterette

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely to Be Mistaken for the Art Teacher, or Most Likely to Be Twinning With My Art Teacher.

Why is this your Summer Look?

I HATE summer about as much as I hate wearing color, which is to say: a lot. I can’t imagine myself in bright floral prints, off-the-shoulder tops or any other warm-weather trends — it doesn’t really suit my personality or style. Instead, I’ve figured out that I like a uniform year round. It always centers around something avant-garde looking, usually by a Japanese brand. If it’s a top, I’ll wear it over jeans or trousers, and if I’m in a crazy skirt, I’ll tuck in a camisole or sleeveless turtleneck. And no matter what, I always choose comfortable shoes.

This outfit ticks all of the boxes since the Pleats Please top feels like something an extremely hip Tokyo grandma would own in triplicate. The Tibi culottes are a really old pair of pants that have held up well and have enough volume to strike a balance with the tank. I would normally wear flats, but I had to run around today to a few appointments, so I swapped in these low-heeled Céline mules that play off the black-and-white palette.

If I weren’t in this, I’d most likely wear a (probably black) Comme des Garçons skirt with pleats or crazy ruffles, coupled with a camisole and Nikes or sandals. It’s mindless but still looks like I put in effort.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

Winter is my favorite time of year since I love a good turtleneck, snowboarding and feeling perfectly climate-controlled. Come summer, my only goal is to wear the least amount of clothing against my body without feeling like I’m over-exposed. Also, I really hate anything that clings to my figure — it only serves to add to the sweat levels! So I’m always trying to figure out how to do that and still look like I work in fashion. I’ve discovered that choosing stuff on the fringes of whatever is currently trendy helps me do that and also keeps my budget in check. I can rewear this over the next three years and it won’t look outdated, which makes it worth the price tag.

I always joke that I want to become Rei Kawakubo, especially as I get older. I really hope this is a step closer in that direction. She’s so damn cool.

How does it make you feel?

Like I can survive the next two months? I just need it to be snowy and dark!

What’s your go-to summer drink?

Iced coffee with oat milk during the day unless I’m being super fancy and indulgent, and then it’s a milk tea with grass jelly, pudding AND boba. If it’s nighttime, then all I want is an orange wine that’s super funky and turns off most people around me.

Illustrator, @Jennymwalton

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely to Get Detention for Showing Too Much Stomach.

Why is this your Summer Look?

It’s my summer look because it’s so comfortable, but it still feels fun.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

From wanting to combine all of my most comfortable pieces and then style them in a way that still felt fun and not boring. To do that, I knotted the top and added a fun statement earring and a cute bag to match the striped shirt.

How does it make you feel?

Like I could go from the beach to a party! (Even if I’m just going from walking my dog to picking up a salad.)

What’s your go-to summer drink?

I think I overdid it on Campari last summer, so now I’m onto the Cappelletti Spritz instead. But I’ll still have a plain Campari soda every once in awhile. It’s so simple that it’s hard to beat.

Founder, Man Repeller

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely To Be Worn on the Way Home From a Long-Winded Meditation Retreat So As to Demonstrate Without Having to Say Every Twenty Minutes That You Are Now an Enlightened Individual.

Why is this your Summer Look?

This dress isn’t necessarily my summer look so much as the color (or lack thereof) palette is. I find that I’ve been gravitating towards combinations of white and ivory in whatever form they want to take. The majority of the time, they’re cotton shorts and linen button-down shirts, but sometimes they’re dresses or drop-crotch pants or T-shirts. My guess is that I am after simplicity — a lack of complexity in what I wear that does not suggest I am “simple,” but rather, it highlights the multidimensionality of being human. Whoa, I stopped thinking for a second and just let my fingertips type, tbd on whether that actually makes sense but we are going to go with it for now.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

Nazareth.

How does it make you feel?

Put-together — like I showered this morning, even though I haven’t showered since last week. Like I have time to stop and smell the roses. Like the luxury of ordering coffee “to stay” is one I take for granted because I am afforded its stillness so regularly.

What’s your go-to summer drink?

Oat milk over ice. I feel like I was sleeping when Oatly blew up, so I’m doing my part to make up for the time I missed.

Glossier Editor, @minamigessel

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely to Make Her Own Almond Milk.

Why is this your Summer Look?

The sleeves are linen, so it’s breezy and keeps me cool. Sneakers, because comfort.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

German milkmaid discovers comfortable sneakers that make her look taller than she actually is.

How does it make you feel?

It makes me feel cute and sexy.

What’s your go-to summer drink?

Shake Shack’s watermelon basil lemonade with a dash of Sprite! Hella fresh.

CEO & Creative Director of The Apārtment Global Group (arva, The Apārtment & Fole Studio) Personal Instagram: http://instagram.com/abimarvel The Apārtment Instagram: http://instagram.com/theaptmt The Apārtment Website: http://theaptmt.com arva instagram: http://instagram.com/arvastories arva website: http://arvastories.com Fole Studio instagram: https://www.instagram.com/folestudio/

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely to Be Underestimated.

Why is this your Summer Look?

It’s comfortable, and I think it’s also quite casual, but I guess due to the color palette and accessories, it can also be worn in pretty formal environments too, making it perfect for most occasions, which is great because most of my days take random turns.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

I recently spent lot of time in Majorca, Spain, and everything from the overly relaxed way of life, which encourages neutrals and comfort, to the sunny weather, which inspires light and soft fabrics, to the fun and entertaining side of the culture, which probably led me to explore wearing more jewellery than I typically do, has made me gravitate towards pieces that represent how my time there made me feel.

How does it make you feel?

I know I keep saying comfortable, but it really does make me feel comfortable! But alongside the comfort and practicality, it makes me feel mature, confident and ready for wherever my day takes me. Plus, with the jewelry, I feel quite fancy — probably because I never wear this much!

What’s your go-to summer drink?

Aperol spritz slushie!

Editor at ZEITmagazin and founder of C’est Clairette

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely to Get Denied Access to an Italian Cathedral.

Why is this your Summer Look?

This summer has been the most incredible I’ve ever experienced in Berlin – we’ve basically had sun and heat for three months straight. I’ve been in a swimsuit the whole time because sweating doesn’t feel gross in it. Plus, you’re always ready to join a pool party or dip into a fountain. The dress I found in a lovely vintage boutique during a work trip to Florence is the result of my newly developed passion for Italian style — you know, the beautiful patterns, the feminine dresses, the fun-loving atmosphere around it. There’s something equally effortless and over-the-top about the way Italian women dress. I’ve worn this outfit during aperitivo hour on my balcony and buttoned it up to go outside (society here in Europe requires me to do so).

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

I think it came from a fantasy. I’ve been picturing myself lounging in an olive garden in Puglia all summer, probably because I’m actually (finally!) going there in September (after seemingly everyone has been on vacation except me). And if a swimsuit paired with a Missoni dress and hoop earrings isn’t the perfect outfit for this kind of setting, I really don’t know what is.

How does it make you feel?

It makes me feel so free! Not only because it’s basically just a swimsuit and a shirt and takes me five seconds to put on, but also because it offers a way to let my thighs breathe without having to put them in shorts or denim cut-offs (which I love on everyone except me).

What’s your go-to summer drink?

Daytime: homemade ice tea (made from Earl Grey, lime juice and a few drops of maple syrup). Evening: Campari orange, always and forever.

Managing Fashion Editor at Nordstrom, @preetmasingh

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely to Make a Comeback.

Why is this your Summer Look?

I’ve been on a mission to streamline my life this summer, and my closet has been a big focus of that. I wanted to stop thinking, “I should keep that in CASE” … I wanted my closet to be things I could pull together almost at random that could work for the majority of places I go on the regular. Basically, I wanted to front load the effort so I can be lazy about dressing but still look polished enough. A denim pencil skirt and polo with a low-heeled sandal and crossbody bag is that boiled down to its essence: kind of casual, kind of dressy, kind of classic, kind of trendy, very easy. Looking for classic pieces with unique details is an easy hack to get there.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

This is how I dressed in high school! I loved denim pencil skirts, I loved polos, I loved a thong sandal — and I still do! There are some pieces that are part of your style DNA and I feel like I’m (re)discovering those in the great closet purge of 2018. Some things you just always feel good in.

How does it make you feel?

Good! But seriously, I feel like I don’t have to fuss or worry about something being out of place, which is paramount. I get really fidgety and anxious otherwise. The Sagittarius rising in me also feels like I could be spontaneous in it — like I could go to a nice dinner on a whim or to the beach…or just to work, which is most often the case.

What’s your go-to summer drink?

Rachel’s Ginger Beer in Seattle makes delicious coconut dark ‘n’ stormy slushy drinks. They are dangerously yummy and strong.

VP Design, Proenza Schouler, @elizabethgiardina

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Obviously Knocked Up.

Why is this your Summer Look?

Because I am pregnant and I seem to feel the happiest in a bikini or a caftan.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

Necessity. And I don’t like maternity clothing. Also I love the colors of this Kanga cloth.

How does it make you feel?

Like I am channeling my inner earth mother.

What’s your go-to summer drink?

Club soda with bitters and lime. Damn I miss a stiff drink.

Digital Talent (Instagram), @slipintostyle 

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely to Be ET’s Date at the Leopard-Themed Senior Prom.

Why is this your Summer Look?

It’s my summer look because it’s super easy to get in and out of and I can wear multiple versions of it with different tees and different wrap skirts every single day and no one one will ever notice, I promise.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

During summer, it’s too hot to wear long sleeves, but at the same time, I need to protect at least one part of my body — my legs in this case — from mosquito bites, so a T-shirt and a midi skirt sounds like a good compromise.

How does it make you feel?

It makes me feel all sorts of ways: glamorous because the skirt is silk, cool because I’m wearing a “Space Cowboy” T-shirt and a bit like a modern-day Marie Antoinette because of the big velvet bows on my silver mules.

What’s your go-to summer drink?

A creamy and thick piña colada with a pink umbrella and pink sugar on the edge. It’s the only way to make me feel like I’m really on summer vacation.

Model and Student, @musegold

If you had to give this outfit a high school superlative, what would it be?

Most Likely to Ruin My White Top by Lunchtime! (I love white but am terrible at keeping them clean.)

Why is this your Summer Look?

My summer look will always be a tee-and-mom-jeans combo. A silk scarf material keeps me cool in the summer. The straw tote has been a staple this summer — my favorite trend of the year! As for my shoes, sneakers are always in and comfortable for a long day of meetings and running around the city.

Where did the inspiration for this summer look come from?

Comfort! I’m inspired by things that make me comfortable and are versatile. I like wearing something that I can dress up or dress down depending on what I’m up to that day.

How does it make you feel?

Beautiful! You always feel good when you find jeans that fit, right?! Pants that fit me in all the right places can make me feel like I’m on the moon.

What’s your go-to summer drink?

I make a mango smoothie every morning! I love smoothies because they reminds me of summer and they’re refreshing. I’m also an iced coffee addict and proud. French vanilla or caramel are always a good idea.

[black-strike-otp]

part 51

Poor Scorpy just doesn’t understand! q= It’s okay, buddy, you can always come over and watch tv with me while ur bestie is out smoochin his girl.

Scroll scroll scroll. Tap tap tap. Scroll scroll scroll.

“Sir, I have the reports on supplies in cargo. Its been checked and rechecked by two separate teams, all numbers showing up the same.”

Looking up from his datapad, Blackout glanced at the mech standing in front of him. “Alright,” he responded in a commanding tone, “Have the logs delivered to my personal datapad.”

“Already done, sir. ‘Raider also had his files sent to you; there’s another unaccounted for loss in energon. About twelve cubes this time. The numbers seem to steadily increase and decrease; it’s a bit hard to keep track because the numbers keep being altered.”

A thoughtful guttural sound seeped out of the obsidian giant mech. “I’ll look it over. In the mean time, I want the entire shift of bots standing guard during what schedules sent to me. I’ll speak with Guard about having daily rations reported every six jours or so; we’ll be able to start pinpointing the shift in alterations depending on who’s on duty more efficiently that way.”

“Aye, sir,” the mech stated, dipping his helm slightly.

It was a bit unnerving to be given so much respect. The appreciation for his work was constant; there was no sign of malice from anybot (well, save for one) in the past couple weeks of being an official commanding officer. The rogues took to it rather well, even with the faded remains of the Decepticon logo still upon his shoulders.

“You’re dismissed,” Blackout rumbled. “Thank you for keeping me informed.”

“Anything you need sir, just let me know,” the bot responded before turning heel and departing the bridge.

Shifting uncomfortably in the large chair pinpointed near the helm of the ship originally meant for Guard, Blackout turn to look at the other bots at work in the command center. Most of the servoful in the room were busy checking calculations, keeping an optic on the power gauge in the thrusters, and generally staying productive. Two were chattering quietly to each other under their breath, and another seemed to be busy playing some sort of game they managed to install on their console and sending messages out to other bots.

If this was the Nemesis, those bots would be getting a quick kick in the rear, if not becoming slag. In this case however, Blackout couldn’t see the harm in allowing the bots their freedom. They weren’t soldiers; they were rogues, surviving, living. Training perhaps on their scheduled times but otherwise in no position of harm.

Flicking his optics back down to the screen in front of him, the intimidating titanic mech closed his current screen and pulled up the datafiles that were indeed, in his message center just as reported. He opened up the cargo file and began to scan through the list of materials stocked and what was running low to make mental note on what could be picked up when they were out next and what might be a good idea to still look for that they had none of.

As he glanced over the information, a ping signaled his personal comm system. Blackout tapped the side of his helm.

“Commander Blackout,” he growled quietly.

“Ah, sounds like you’re handling your title well,” an ecstatic voice charmingly replied.

Straightening his posture in the chair, Blackout cleared his vocalizer, “Guard, sir, what can I do for you?”

“At ease, son,” the mech’s voice chuckled over the comm. “I just got a report from the cargo area, everything looks reasonable on my end.”

“Agreed.”

“Neutroboost informed me that we’re about two jours out from the debris field we picked up a few days ago. I was hoping you’d be willing to take a team out to scout the area for supplies?”

“Of course,” Blackout answered swiftly. “I will have my team assembled. While I have your attention, sir, I would like to request we have the wardens of the energon storage work jours altered and have reports on the energon stock reported in to the commanding officers every six jours. We may be able to pick up easier on our culprit by narrowing down when energon stock is fluctuating, who was guarding at the time, and who went to get energon then.”

“An excellent idea. It sounds like the best we can do anyway, without a proper security system. Be sure to keep your optics out for one by the way when you’re out. I like the way you think, Blackout. We made a great decision putting you in charge.”

A brief and nervous laugh issued from the former Decepticon. “You are the one in charge of the Rising Star, Guard, do not think anybot has forgotten that.”

“I may be a preferable and likable bot that many trust, but I am not the only one leading this vessel. I will see you in two jours then, at the docking area. I’m sorry to have thrown you in on my duties today-”

“No need for apologies, Guard,” Blackout quietly responded, turning away from the crew fully so no one could hopefully hear him or read his mouth as he continued, “Listen to the medic and stay off your pedes if your leg is bothering you that much.”

Amused notes emitted from the recipient of Blackout’s words. “You never cease to surprise me. You arrived with much the same attitude you had in the pits of Kaon; perhaps somewhat wiser and more collected, and look how far you’ve come. I’m very proud of you. I think your femme might be rubbing off on you a bit, too.”

An embarrassed rumbling echoed in Blackout’s chassis. He didn’t exactly know how to respond to Guard’s words. Admittedly a part of him was elated to please the old bot. He respected Guard a lot; much more than he thought possible. But then again, another part of him; probably the larger part, was simply self-conscious. This was the same mech who urged him to follow his spark; who saw his feelings for Novastrike even when he bit and barked and fought against them and against her.

Guard was rooting for him even when he was unwilling to cheer himself on or fight for what he really wanted. There was a lot of discomfort in trying to feel positive feelings all your life you ignored and burned inside of you.

“My sympathies if I took a step too far-”

“No,” Blackout quickly interrupted. “Thank you, sir, I value and appreciate your perspective immensely. Thank you.”

“Always with the ‘sir’,” Guard chuckled. “Well thank you regardless Blackout; I’ll see you in two jours. In the mean time would you mind leaving the command center? I’ll be sending Neutroboost in to hold the fort for a while, you go enjoy some down time.”

“Understood, Guard.”

With a soft chatter of static, the comm link connection went dead. Removing his digit from the side of his helm, Blackout released a short vent and pushed himself up and out of the massive carved structure of metal he had seated in. The members of the crew instantly looked up to him expectedly.

“At ease,” Blackout growled in his thick voice. “I’ll be taking leave of the bridge; Neutroboost should be here shortly. In the temporary span of time I’m gone and the other commanding officer arrives, Circuitbreaker is in charge.”

“Yes,” a femme hissed off to the side, doing a small fist bump in the air.

“Damn,” mumbled another mech. “Left with that fragger Neutroboost.”

Nodding to the rest who offered polite goodbyes and ignoring the humorous and understandable groans that Neutroboost would soon be coming, Blackout stepped out of the command room. His pedes carried him down a strip of the hallway not too terribly far from the bow of the ship and down a short turn off towards what would normally be the captain’s quarters.

The door to the room had only barely opened when a white flash bolted across the floor and latched onto Blackout’s leg.

“I missed you,” Novastrike whined loudly, looking up at him with those round stunning blue optics and that faintly puckered lower wobbly lip.

Snorting his laughter to keep from sounding too mocking, Blackout offered a slight smile down at the tiny femme. “I missed you too. What have you been doing while I was on deck? Sitting around waiting for me?” he teased.

“No!” Nova quickly responded in a miffed voice. “I was out hanging in the lounge area for a while. Then I joined in to help be one of the squad members rechecking the cargo bay supplies, then I went and sparred a bit and Scorponok ended up joining in.”

“Sounds like a much more eventful day than me,” responded the mech with a grin, glancing around. After a moment’s search he spotted Scorponok, the little bugger standing off to the side and looking to him.

“You didn’t even let me finish,” insisted the small femme. “I also helped the medic clean a lot of the med-bay today. Cleaning the med-bay, can you imagine? That place is spotless! It was already pristine you know; she doesn’t let things go unchecked, but she insisted I wasn’t cleaning things well enough! Thank Primus Guard was there to help keep her settled.”

As she mentioned the old mech, Blackout felt a slight sting of worry. It seemed he wasn’t the only one; as he watched the eagerness in Novastrike’s expression begin to fade and a look of concern begin to color her optics and her face.

“He’s getting worse,” Nova quietly whispered. “I can tell.”

“He’s a tough mech,” Blackout slowly spoke. “I wouldn’t count him out yet. With some rest, a little work from the doc, he’ll be moving around again. He’s pretty determined.”

“You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say it was like he was grooming you for the position of commanding officer,” teased the femme.

Blackout had to swallow; trying to get the strangely dry sensation to leave his throat. It was a thought that had crossed his processor before too. He’d rather not consider it.

The light slowly began to die from Novastrike’s optics and she began to frown slightly as she looked at him. “Crazy thought, huh?” she pressured.

“Very crazy,” Blackout agreed, offering a waning smile.

She didn’t seem to buy it. There was still a troubled look about her face that made him feel awful for allowing even a brief moment of hesitation. He already felt bad enough thinking it himself, he didn’t want her musing the same tragic thoughts.

“Hey, I have a question for you. More like a request,” Blackout remarked; his voice turning softer, the undertones having gradually ebbed out of his voice.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“In roughly two jours, we’ll be entering a drifting wreckage; likely from an Autobot/Decepticon confrontation of some sort. I was hoping you’d be up for joining me on the first team dispatched to go looking through the cache.”

Emitting a light hum, Novastrike stroked her digits up and down his leg gently as she beamed up at him. The smile on her face only seemed to draw a foolish one from Blackout himself. Scrap his own reactions; he couldn’t help himself. The impression of her digits moving against his armor left every circuit nerve buzzing with electricity.

“I don’t know,” Nova slowly replied. “That sounds lot an awful lot of third wheels for a date.”

“Always a cheeky little thing, aren’t you?” Blackout joked with a broad grin. “What do you want me to do? Beg?”

“Oooh that sounds delicious~ Why don’t you try that?”

“So can I mark you down as absent then?” he growled playfully.

“Poo, you’re no fun,” Nova pouted. “No, I’d be glad to come. I was just hoping I could get you to entertain me a little more.”

Blackout raised an optic ridge slightly. Playing ignorant to the fact that his partner was in the room and was probably going to make fun of him later for doing so, he shifted his legs in order to move to a kneeling position. His servos carefully slid around Novastrike’s body until she detached from his leg to allow herself to be plucked up and held in the air.

“Won’t you please come so that I am neither driven mad by mechs nor by my longing to see your lovely face?” he softly asked, offering an endearing slight smile as his dark optics regarded the small beauty in his grasp.

An enchanting radiant glow emerged from the tiny femme’s audio receptors. She squinted her optics at him in a show of irritation and puckered up her mouth as though she was infuriated. If she was irked with anything, it was probably how easily she went flush at such flattery and admiration, much deserved as it should be.

“Shut up,” she hissed.

“But I thought you wanted me to grovel. I can certainly do that if you want, dear. Please join me darling, I will hardly dare to breathe without you close by.”

“Stop, stop- I get it, you can stop now,” she grumbled.

Snickering quietly, Blackout carefully brought his servos close and kissed the top of Novastrike’s helm. Her ears jerked to and fro as he pulled her away and pressed against her helm as she tried to conceal some of the illumination that was emitting from them.

“I wasn’t entirely joking,” he vowed. “It’s always easier to get by when I have my guiding light with me.”

Huffing, Nova placed her servos on top of her audios as she glanced away. “Okaaayyy that’s enough now.”

“What if I’m not done?” he baited with a sly grin.

As she fidgeted in his servos, Blackout moved a single digit to brush down the length of her backstrut. Novastrike shivered at the brief contact; her entire frame visibly vibrating all over as her vents hitched.

“You don’t play fair,” she growled.

“You don’t either,” he reminded her. “It’s suddenly not okay for me to treasure and praise you, and how alluring you are? Or to mention how virtuous and angelic you are? That seems rather one-sided, dear. Have you looked in a mirror at all? You’re above every image of gods known and drawn; spoken and whispered in legend. A portrait of perfection.”

Stretching herself forward, Novastrike removed her servos from her faceplate and leaned in towards him. She reached too far and nearly fell but managed to make her point, placing her servos over his mouth while bending far forward.

“Shhhh,” she drew out in a slow breath. “Silence. No more.”

Dark light flashed in Blackout’s optics. The corner of his mouth twitched upward. Carefully bringing his servos closer to his face so that his beloved did not fall, the large mech braced his digits against her back to keep her from falling backwards and pressed a kiss against her servos.

“For all the arguments you may throw or any other voices who say otherwise, know that I will always and truthfully tell you that, Novastrike, you are gorgeous and have the most thoughtful, considerate, devoted, affectionate spark I’ve ever known. I may be the least deserving to be given the opportunity to receive your kindness and sentiment but I’ll be fragged if I don’t fight for, cherish, and defend every last bit of it to my dying breath.”

“By the Well of Allsparks Blackout,” Nova barely managed to whisper, “You don’t need to- to say all these sweet nothings- no bot is offlining or anything.”

Giving a sigh, Blackout stroked his digit gently against Nova’s backstrut once more. A purr quietly echoed through her armor and she twisted slightly on his palm. He went to replicate the gesture once more, and she mewled faintly; tail curling as she shuddered.

“I’m tired of simply existing and surving,” Blackout murmured as he caressed along her spine once more. “I want to live.”

An inquisitive light flashed in the femme’s optics as she looked upon him. With a faint tremble raking over her she placed her servo lightly against his cheek and leaned in to press her lips against beside her digits.

“You’re very kind and charming,” Nova softly spoke. “But I don’t think you have to worry, darling. You’re very much online. I’m very happy here, being with you. You don’t have much a fight ahead of you.”

“Mmm, it may yet be a fight to get you to agree with me on how marvelous you are,” he disagreed.

From the depths of the room, a sudden chirp escaped Scorponok: “Getting sick. Go away.”

As Novastrike pulled away and pressed a servo to her mouth to hide her giggles, Blackout shot his companion a furious scowl. The bug didn’t seemed bothered by the ugly glance and merely made a shooing motion with his drill.

“It seems someone doesn’t care for all the sappiness around here,” Novastrike chimed, looking over her shoulder at the bugger.

“Mood killer,” Blackout mocked, pressing a kiss to the side of Nova’s helm as she giggled.

“Gross,” Scorponok clicked. “Going blind. Nasty PDA.”

“It’s not very public, you just got stuck in the room and haven’t left,” Blackout opposed, moving his digit to lightly rub along his femme’s ears.

“Inconsiderate roommates,” the bug countered.

“Don’t worry Scorp, I can give you kisses next if you want,” Novastrike announced, pressing a kiss against Blackout’s cheek as he grinned a little further.

Each and every one of the scorpion’s four golden optics opened fully; unshuttering as he bore his gaze into them. He released a displeased hiss and scuttled back on his many pronged peg legs.

“Fine by me,” Blackout sniffed, pulling his femme closer. She made a faint squeaking sound as he brought her up a little further, pressing his helm lightly against hers. “Just means more for me.”

“Disgusting,” Scorponok responded in a dead, emotionless tone.

Laughing effortlessly, the small femme pressed a kiss in the space between his optics; her mouth curving into a larger smile.

“No where go?” Scorponok vaguely ushered. “No where be?”

“Mmm,” Blackout drawled out slowly. “I suppose we could head down to the hatch; I should probably make sure I get in contact with those I thought would be most helpful in bringing in supplies...”

“Good idea. Go away.”

“Bossy bot, isn’t he?” Novastrike murmured, pressing another kiss against his cheek as Blackout slowly brought her around to his shoulder. Her digits lightly trailed against the side of his face as he moved her; delicate and gentle.

“Just a touch,” Blackout agreed as she slowly climbed off his servo and on his shoulder.

“Thank Primus,” Scorponok all but wheezed.

Glancing to the side at Novastrike, Blackout offered her a slight shrug in response to his minicon’s behavior. Her precious laughter was a cheerful melody that had his spark throbbing.

Lifting her servo, Nova waved her digits at Scorponok as she reminded him thoughtfully, “Don’t miss us too much bud, we’ll be back later to snuggle and kiss in front of you all evening.”

“Please do not. Will leave.”

Dropping his arm to his side, Blackout very carefully moved to stand. His leg ached slightly from having been kneeling so long but he recovered and kept from wobbling on it as he moved slightly to get used to having weight equally dispersed on both limbs again. Giving a snide grin over at his long-time friend, the huge mech turned around and headed out the door.

“He’s going to grow to despise me, isn’t he?” Nova curiously asked.

“Not at all. If anything, he’ll grow to despise me more.”

“More? Oh dearest, no. He doesn’t despise you.”

“No, but I give him plenty of reasons to do so, don’t I?” Blackout stated with a flash of his derma.

Rolling her lovely blue optics, the femme gave a slight huff. “I was being serious with my question, you know.”

“I know,” Blackout mused. “And no, he won’t despise you. He likes you; enjoys your company. We just drive him crazy. He’ll go find his own space if we push him enough. I’ll make it up to him by taking him off the planet to spar so he had somewhere to dig and jump my aft all he wants.”

“Can’t say I don’t blame him for wanting to jump your aft; it’s a nice view back there.”

Blackout snapped his helm over to look at her so fast he got a mild whiplash.

“What?” she nervously squeaked with a shrug.

“Since when do you stare at my aft?”

“When haven’t I stared at your aft, honestly.”

“So much for all that innocence you play so well.”

“Like you haven’t bothered looking at mine!”

“Never,” Blackout disagreed, sticking his helm up high.

Nova cocked her helm to the side and offered a long stare of disbelief. Her optics narrowed just a smidgen and her mouth went in a straight line.

“Never?” she repeated.

“Hardly ever?” Blackout fixed, shrugging as he offered a meek smile.

“So are you chivalrous, or saying my aft isn’t nice to look at?” she quizzed.

Oh Primus, not this. He wasn’t ready for this. If he was organic, he’d probably be sweating bullets.

Shifting his optics off to the side, the imposing mech gave a quiet cough as he muttered, “It’s an exceptional view, I’m simply being a gracious gentlemech.”

Glancing slowly back to Novastrike, Blackout watched as she considered his words. A digit tapped lightly against her mouth, which she was trying to hide as a smile was daring to break out from her facade blank expression.

“Acceptable,” she finally stated, reaching over to lightly nudge the side of his helm. “I was only messing with you, handsome devil.”

Rebounding thunder rumbled in his chassis in response as he reached up to lightly scratch along her ears. An immediate purr reverberated in her chassis as well in response to the contact. It brought a warming sensation into Blackout’s spark to see her smile and relax into his digits so peacefully.

Carrying along down the length of the corridor, the big mech flicked his optics forward and slowly brought his arm back down. The very last thing he wanted to do was become too caught up once again with Novastrike. The last time he was that distracted... he flinched inwardly, recalling Guard’s knowing grin and how awkward and tense he’d felt during their entire conversation thereafter. It took him days to be able to even look the mech in the optic without having to immediately glance somewhere else.

Either understanding why his reclusive nature returned or being polite regardless, Novastrike allowed a comfortable silence to drift between them. She scooted a bitch closer to lean her helm very lightly against the side of his own however, only just bothering to sit up completely straight again when she noticed someone heading their way.

“Should we stop at the med-bay and check up on Guard?” questioned the femme softly.

Blackout gave a light shake of his helm. “If he doesn’t show up at the hatch, we’ll go check on him. I don’t him thinking like we find him too fragile that we need to baby him.”

Continuing past the medical room and onward, Blackout brought the pair of them at the other end of the transport ship and to the doors for the loading and unloading dock area. Stepping through and into the air locked room, already a few of the bots were assembled and moving around.

Each of them turned their helms as they entered and instantly offered gratifying and warm welcomes and greetings. Some of them nodded or inclined their helms respectfully towards the warrior from the Gladiator Pits, leaving much like earlier, another wave of pleasant shock to course through Blackout.

“Afternoon, everyone,” Blackout rumbled. “Give me a moment, I need to ping everyone else to adjourn here so that we can have a little debriefing before we come in proximity of the debris field.”

“Take your time.”

“It’s a’ight Blackout, we was jus’ stretchin’ ‘n meetin’ up!”

Moving his optics slightly over to Novastrike, Blackout offered her a servo. She hopped on willingly and allowed herself to be lowered to the floor. Turning away from the majority of the group, Blackout pressed a digit against the comm link on the side of his helm and sent out private pings to the mechs and femmes not yet in the room. The attention from everyone else in the room upon him even as he spoke quietly was like a spotlight of burning optics upon his hide. It wasn’t an unfamiliar situation; but the views of these bots upon him seemed to matter a lot more than he ever recalled any bots on the Nemesis ever mattering.

Turning back towards those already assembled, the bots quickly went to huddle together and appear as if they hadn’t been staring or peeking his way. The only one who seemed ashamed to be caught staring of course, had the most startling many-hues of blue optics he’d ever witnessed.

“As a non-flyer, I get a free pass on going with any bot I want, right?” Nova asked softly. She probably wasn’t completely unheard though; some of the bots were compacted fairly close to herself and subsequently, Blackout.

Sucking in a cool rush of air, Blackout released it slowly as he studied the femme. “Of course, I wouldn’t trap you with any bot you may not be comfortable with. Although I won’t have a say much when we return from our first trip; as a trusted adviser of logging the cargo, I’m sure Guard will ask you to stay and help catalog items.”

“I’m sure he will,” Novastrike agreed, “and I’ll stay and do that, if it’s asked of me. As for who I’m going to ride with, I was just wondering if maybe you had a teeny bit of space to let little me fly with you?~ I promise not to be too distracting.”

Even with the crowd, Blackout couldn’t resist scowling at her. “Yeah,” he thickly growled. “We’ll see about that.”

The musical giggling she produced was too damn cute. He felt spellbound, grinning like a dingus without reason.

Primus he hoped things could stay this simple for a long, long time.