#if they are NANOBOTS why can they not change COLOR

[faeriekit]

Quiet Respite 🕸️❤️🦇

find the whole thing on Ao3 or read the previous updates here on tumblr

A DC x MCU fic inspired by Dark Matter, Cassandra Cain meets Peter Parker in an exploratory romance slash “mystery” fic. (If you’ve read a lot of these before, you pretty much can tell what’s going on in the background.) Features: Cass’s turn as POV character, use of sign language, the flimsiest timeline you’ve ever seen, teen romance, hurt/comfort, implied homelessness, fight scenes, Cass’s teen rebellion arc, Spider-Man villain arc?? (whoopsie), and a good deal of sneaking around. Updates on tumblr before ao3.

Previous updates are listed above, so if you don’t want to start off with ch 15 below, click on those. This is just to consolidate a big post into something slightly smaller. Anyway, enjoy the continuation of Peter’s trauma-induced depression arc.

🕸🕷🕸❤

The next day is dance class.

Baby Bat’s school will be waiting for him tomorrow, which means Peter will either go, or not go.

That’s a tomorrow problem. Today, Cass has dance.

She hovers her hand over Peter’s stomach. “Can I…touch?” She uses her voice to ask.

He lets her touch. She gently prods his ribs.

“They don’t hurt anymore,” Peter whispers as he signs, exhausted, but awake. “I ate. I slept. I healed.”

He heals quickly, then. Some creatures do. Cass nods.

“Okay.” Cass can sign that one without even looking at him. She rolls off of her bed. “We are going.”

Peter frowns. He’s confused. “We…?” he starts, but his hands fall before finishes his thought. He’s too tired.

Cass hums a doing chores song that Alfred likes. “Mmhmm,” she vocalizes in her throat, more thought than sound. She reaches underneath her Peter, and he barely even flails. So gentle with her.

“Wait, where are we—?” He squawks. If he’s signing, it’s at the wrong angle for Cass to see. “What?? Cass— Wait—“

Having his bare skin against her arms is kind of nice. He’s kind of squishy. Cass is hopeful that with more food, he might be even squishier. His body is a little too cold. He needs clothing.

Cass makes it over to the door. An almost-free hand wiggles enough to get Cass’s fluffy purple robe from the hook on back of it, and positioning Peter beneath it makes it fall neatly onto his face.

Peter makes a wounded noise. But he’s not hurt. Cass whistles Alfred’s cleaning tune and opens the door with a careful stretch and her toes.

Cass pokes her head through the door.

Cass looks left. Cass looks right.

“I don’t think anyone is here,” Peter murmurs, close to her ear. He’s looking where she’s looking but— right. Peter and the spider are the same. He can hear things Cass can only feel whispers of. She nods. She carries him down to Bigger Bird’s room.

Bigger Bird’s not here, but his pants are. Cass pulls open a drawer with her toes (new skill!), sticks Peter closer, and let him choose.

…And prods him to choose, when he doesn’t.

“Are we stealing?” Peter mumbles, upset. But he picks a pair of shiny, dark blue shorts. “Because I stopped that now.”

“No. Giving back. Later.”

“Oh. Well, then.”

Baby Bat’s shirts fit better. Cass walks them across the hall to Baby Bat’s room, stepping over the clutter and noise to get to his closet.

“It is a little weird how comfortable you are with going into other people’s closets,” Peter says under an exhausted sigh. Cass understands most of the sentence: the part that says This is weird. The rest is probably about the clothing.

“One child,” she accuses of him easily. “Normal.”

Peter barely looks at the shirts. He picks one off the closet without examining it. “Only child?”

“Mmhmm.” What’s the difference?

The door cracks open. Cass knows it’s going to be Baby Bat, so she doesn’t worry. Baby Bat likes Peter. He appears in the doorway, head-speakers half on and half off, computer under his arm. “Ca— Peter?!”

Peter’s head lolls in Baby Bat’s direction. Cass shifts to accommodate him. “…Hi,” says Peter.

“You’re in my house?” Baby Bat asks, confused. His eyebrows are pushed together. He doesn’t understand why they’re in his room, or in his room, together.

“…I have been? For a few days?” Peter asks, more confused than Baby Bat is. Cass hasn’t told him they were hiding him.

(To be fair, she thought it was obvious.)

“Shirt, please,” Cass rasps, and gestures to Peter, clad in only her purple robe and with his stuck-up hair.

Thankfully, signing: “Okay??” only takes one hand and a strong expression. Cass loves Baby Bat. She might kiss his hair on the way out.  

Cass wheels them out into the hallway, almost backs into a fancy art thing on a tiny table, and ferries Peter back into her room.

His dirty clothes and his metal skin are still on her floor. They’ll have to stay there until Alfred cleans her room tomorrow and the laundry goes away.

Peter. Stands. He holds the clothes. He doesn’t change.

That’s okay. Cass takes his choices from his hands and carefully guides him through the process. Sometimes just touching the body is enough to bring someone back to it. His arms go up. The shirt goes over his head. Cass touches each foot to guide his legs into the shorts.

His body is dressed, although he is without shoes. Cass fetches skinny little socks from her drawer, because his body is always too cold to her touch and loving people means giving heat and warmth.

Hm. Maybe he should have her jacket too.

Bigger Bat is fending for himself in doing job things. Bigger Bird is doing day work in his very far, very smelly city. Baby Bat already likes lying to Bigger Bat for fun.

All Cass has to do is take Peter into the car with her.

…With Alfred.

Cass is very gentle with Peter. He’s strong and he’s healed and she doesn’t have to be gentle, but Bigger Bat is always gentle with Cass even though he doesn’t have to be too. She takes Peter’s hand to walk him downstairs for fear that he won’t come after her if she doesn’t. They slip through the long halls and heavy doors of Cass’s new nest on socked feet.

Alfred is already at the door when Cass and Peter get there. When Cass puts herself between Alfred and Peter, it’s almost unconscious.

Alfred looks up.

Alfred looks down.

He does not look…surprised.

“I had thought Cass was hiding a cat,” Alfred signs, slowly and precisely, as he always does.

“P-e-t-e-r,” Cass fingerspells instead. She tries not to look sheepish. She is doing a good thing. She doesn’t have to be shy about it.

“Indeed. To the car?” Alfred signs, and speaks, in case Peter doesn’t understand ASL.

Peter doesn’t sign back; but still, he’s pliable. Cass guides him into the car, and he buckles himself in.

They go to dance.

Peter doesn’t dance, but that’s okay; Alfred is clear with his words and tone that say Leave him alone and Be nice at the same time, and all the same ballerinas who had watched Cass be tossed with envy are careful and quiet with him.

The music plays. A dozen feet fall on the same beat, and Cass dances.

Arms. Legs. Bend. Twirl. Dip, and bend. Turn. Angle her head, just so, so that Cass can watch Peter without breaking the line of perfectly organized dancers.

Peter watches, legs crossed, knees up to his chin.

The lessons end, and the ballerinas leave— kindly waving to Cass, to Peter, with shy shoulders and soft-spoken concern. They’re nice. Cass loves dance-partners. They mean as much to her as fight-partners ever could.

The ballerinas leave. The teacher, in her black leotard and taut leggings, leaves.

Cass doesn’t leave. The floors smell like wood and wax. There’s the smell of sweat and emotion in the air. The mirror is the only cool part of the humid, sweaty room. Cass, not Batgirl and yet in a black bodysuit, sits beside Peter.

Peter says nothing.

Cass says nothing.

…Cass holds out a hand.

Peter. Looks at it. He isn’t sure he wants to take it, she can tell— knows what it’s for, but doesn’t have the energy to do anything about the gesture.

“Please,” Cass asks. Animals that do not move are doomed to die.

Her spider sees the expression on her face. His own falters because of it.

His grip is hesitant, but Cass is certain. She hauls him to his feet and puts them in pose: their fingers entwined, his palms to her, her body to his, her cheek to his collarbone.

For a moment, they just breathe, in silent embrace.

And then Cass moves, and Peter moves with her, two minds and one body.

Peter only follows old memories at first; muscle memory works to keep his body upright, to bend and to hold her, to keep Cass steady and sure.

But Cass knows what’s going to happen before it happens; her spider is a creature of movement, just like her.

Slowly, as she spins, as he follows, his eyes soften. His practiced care becomes intentional. Then it becomes artistic, and Peter joins her in the music.

The girl who wears Batgirl’s skin and a spider boy dance in an empty studio, arm in arm, dancing to music she has heard in her dreams. Their footsteps are a whisper of an echo against the plaster walls and glass mirror around them. Cass can see their reflections when she’s angled to— in the sunset angling through the windows, they are little more than the shadows they pretend to be.

She isn’t surprised when Peter lifts her— she knows he knows she likes it— but the relief that Peter feels safe enough to play a little makes her laugh. Openly. Loudly.

Peter’s eyes go wide with awe.

Cass can’t help but adore him for it.

He slowly lets her down. He doesn’t let go of her.

It’s good that he doesn’t. She wants to (and she does) angle Peter’s head down, until she can press a kiss to his curls. She pulls him in close and he comes to her.

Tears find Cass’s shirt. She welcomes them as long as Peter needs to cry them.

“T-they’re,” Peter hiccups, too close to her to sign. “They’re gone. Everyone’s gone. My aunt, my friends, my…my team, my uncle.”

Cass knew some of that. Not the details. Her arms circle around him so she can pull him tighter. “I’m here,” Cass whispers.

There’s a sob against her chest. “What do I do? Where do I go from here? Everyone’s…”

“I’m here,” Cass whispers again, because it’s the truth. “Let me…help. Brothers help. Dad helps.”

“They’re not…” Peter grips her back— careful not to crush her, not like Cass had hurt him days before. “They’re your family. Not mine.”

Cass clicks her tongue. That can easily change. Once upon a time, the Bat hadn’t been her parent either. Now she has two-and-more brothers and parent and a purple friend and an Alfred. “Can share.” And then, because she means it: “Stupid.” She bonks her head down onto his. Peter’s laugh is watery, but it’s bright.

Cass carries Peter to the car this time. He almost smiles.

(Alfred does.)

“I hope you understand that this does require you to be at dinner, young Masters,” Alfred says, signing the gist to Cass as they go. Cass catches most of it, though his white gloves make it hard to tell where Alfred’s fingers are.

Cass sticks out her tongue. Peter splutters, wide-eyed.

(They trade the sight of pink tongues all the ride home.)

(Alfred pretends not to see them, but Cass catches his smile in the mirror at odd glances.) 

[isagrimorie]

continued from this post:

@lovecanbesostrange: For the Borg stuff, pretty much what you usually talk about. I mean we can't go back and add that many visible implants/reminders. They really gave us beautiful-woman-in-tight-suit and when it fit the narrative it was "btw her head can open up and this is her actual vision". But mostly it felt like her nanobots and some enhanced senses were a nice deal. tbh I don't think PIC S2 did that good of a job to highlight what it meant for Seven to be 100% human. And in a show

Honestly? I agree with you -- it's like they had it in the first 3 episodes, and then just lightly touched on it after -- again, 10 episodes is not enough time with a story with such big ideas.

There's so much they could have done more than the visual of Seven not having her implants anymore. Seven was fully Human -- not just visually Human.

This means a lot of changes to Seven, not just intellectually. She had a visual acuity of 99.3% or something. She could see temporal changes. Her vision had a green filter.

The fact that she's not bowled over at seeing full color the whole time, like people who were color blind and seeing the full spectrum of color the first time is frankly astonishing.

Seven, being frustrated at not being as strong, being amazed she doesn't hear anything more than the ordinary person.

And she doesn't have steel running through her bones, which means she is also physically lighter.

She should find trade-offs to being fully Human. She finds that she loves it but also realizes she kind of hates it too and misses some of the things her implants gave her.

But the show is called Picard and at the end of the day, they will prioritize the time and scene-stopping moments when Picard has to hallucinate about his dead mother. (Sorry, I'm salty about the middle part so much).

lovecanbesostrange: with her as the center character again, we could maybe find some odd curiosities about her day to day behavior. Like everything you mention here. Including the standing for example. || I was actually more interested in the Romulans and the Borg separately than anything to do with the main AI storyline. Everything was way too big in PIC (which is also why I don't enjoy lots of stuff in DSC; make it smaller!).

This is where I trust in Terry Matalas, I know Terry from 12 Monkeys, and I trust he would handle Seven's story well. I also tracked what he said he wanted to do if given the chance to run with a new show -- and that he would love to go back to episodic storylines with some linking arcs.

Terry also likes writing about characters who carry a lot of guilt for what they've done in the past and complicated and messy characters who, in the end, are trying to do the best they can, which is something Seven fits to a tee.

(If you haven't seen 12 Monkeys yet, I highly recommend it! 4 seasons of great sci-fi time travel TV! And Jones is really very much influenced by Janeway!)

But my dearest wish is for the possible show to have Seven falling in love with Science again. I missed her doing science. I miss her turning up in a Jeffries tube unexpectedly doing repairs because it calms her down.

I miss her popping into an Astrometrics lab just to watch the stars.

I love warrior!Seven, but being a warrior is not just all who Seven is. She's a scientist, an engineer. She wanted to put star charts up on her wall because they pleased her aesthetically.

Seven was the unofficial Science Officer of Voyager. I hope we get that reflected, I hope in the pinning ceremony, Janeway quizzes her on all things science just like that one Admiral did to Janeway in Relativity.

I wish, I wish, I wish.

[kiki-shortsnout]

Clockwork Sorcerer 

‘Can I have your arm?’ Stark asked, gesturing to where his elbow rested on the table. Stephen stretched his arm out without question, watching as Stark drew back his sleeve and rubbed his thumb over the middle of his forearm. His nanobot skin receded, leaving behind the stainless steel vibranium of his body. There was a small circular indent in the crook of his arm, a port of some sort that slid aside as Stark persuaded it to, revealing the internal wires of his body.

Stephen initially recoiled at the sight. He kept alternating between these two states of being. Forgetting he was a robot and then being forcefully reminded of it. He was expecting the inside of his arm to be blinking lights and endless green lines like a circuit board, but instead there were slippery black wires, and what looked like an obsidian metal joint which must’ve been his elbow, but they didn’t resemble bones.

He didn’t feel sick, not having the capacity to do so, but he still felt a horrifying sensation, an urge to peel himself out of his body.

‘I forgot how morbid doctors could be,’ Stark teased, sitting back and waiting for him to finish his observations. ‘So, that glowing blue light you can see.’ Stark pointed to the azure light glowing from some of his wires, the glow bathing the inside of his arm. ‘That’s your power source, which is created by this.’ He gestured to the glowing circle beneath Stephen’s sternum. ‘It mimics a heartbeat as it sends the energy throughout the body, which coincidentally powers your nanobot skin.’

‘You mentioned that before, that it’s my power source. Why is it this color? Does it need to match yours for a reason?’

‘No, that’s just the color it is. I could probably change it to pink if you’d prefer,’ Stark laughed.

Another stunning art piece designed by @astralaberration​ for Chapter 6 of Clockwork Sorcerer! Thank you so much, it’s beautiful! 

[bionicbore]

I’ve designed suits for the Rats, and I’ve gone into my own theories on their bionics. But I haven’t really gone into how I imagine Leo functions. A crime I wish to rectify, here’s a look at not only my take on his suit, but also his bionics as a whole

A small warning for... gore? There’s no blood or 1-1 accurate anatomy, but the lad gets peeled

Yeah that’s right we’re going CLEAN for this bad boy

So in the show, Douglas says that the doctors determined Leo would never be able to use his arm again. Which, absolutely true; getting a stone pillar dropped on you from 10+ feet isn’t something you can walk away from unscathed. It’s implied (but not explicitly said) that the arm would’ve been amputated

Key point being would’ve been. Douglas says something that I found interesting “Doctor said you'd never be able to use your arm again, and I wasn't about to let that happen. So, I used bionic components to save it.”

He saved the arm, meaning he didn’t replace it. But only so much of the original realistically could’ve survived that level of trauma. Bones shattered, muscles torn, ligaments severed, the works. So there’s gotta be quite a bit going on beneath the skin to achieve what Douglas did

It’s established that Leo doesn’t have a chip. Combine that with the bionics only being limited to his arm and the suddenness of the procedure, I’m gonna say that he doesn’t have nanobots like I theorized for the Rats. Instead, his bionics are closer to Krane’s model in the sense of relying on physical implants to support the body.

The replacement bones are metal and rigged more or less as clunkier chips that send the necessary signals throughout his arm. And the plating is an extra layer of protection for what remains of this poor kid’s muscles, along with guiding the muscle into the correct positions. My rendition is loose at best, but there’s only so far I’m willing to go before it looks like a completely different style

A note for the skin, it played a big part in me giving Leo freckles! The synthetic skin would theoretically be “perfect” and free of blemish, so post-incident, Leo would have a visual nod to it that’s subtle, but distinct

Now the HAND is where the fun is. The base material is different for flexibility and rigged with the conductors. There’s also a plate with conductors on the back of the hand as well, ‘cause I wanted to give his ability more range

My logic is this: If Douglas wanted to give Leo a way to fend for himself, why limit him to throwing stuff? Kid’s not super athletic; we see that if (and when) someone catches up to him, he’s toast. So I dipped into Chase’s pool and gave him a baton and shield that he can generate. Due to the limitation of his bionics, he can’t form anything larger than shown above, but it gives him an edge in close quarters

Fun fact: Chase’s staff is canonically called a laser bo, while Leo’s ability is referred to as laser spheres. So hey, all the more reason to overlap

And finally the suit. This one’s short ‘cause honestly? His canon suit was kinda fire. I really didn’t change much outside of simplifying it. Gave him a few more pops of color to break up the black and leaned into a more casual look. I had fun with his jacket, leaned into the asymmetry. He doesn’t need heavy padding on that arm, so the sleeve’s been shortened. Add the crooked hood/zipper and he’s got his own flare!

And to end on a bonus. Ormge :)

[thenamesblurrito]

ask dump... oh god what is this. seven??

thats cumulatively about 70 asks in these dumps. whh.

answered asks include switching off senses, shields and other Enforcer gear, tunneling beastformers, tabletop and video games, social etiquette for riding on or in people, how digestible is a body, processor locations in the body, what can smelter alt modes consume, and organic evolution

this one had me waffling back and forth for awhile. i’m going to say yes, dependent on the individual, but not every sense. of course, depending on frametype, you’ll have different sensors, so that also comes into play. this also varies between root mode and alt mode senses. alt mode senses may be consciously switched on and off, or they may only function in alt mode, or they may always be on

for example, beastformers usually involuntarily lose sight in their beast mode optics when in root mode (which is why i don’t draw their beast pupils) but some like Blackarachnia or Alpha Trion actually keep conscious control of their beast form sight in root mode. i talk about it more in this article. even in root mode, optics and visors can be dimmed and brightened semi-consciously which affects the clarity and color sensitivity of their vision, but turning them completely off without shuttering them isn’t under conscious control

smell and taste are technically the same sense, chemoreception, and most people have the glossa for specific fuel-related chemoreception and then less intense, more generalized sensors inset into vents all over their body to detect air quality. some people are forged with other specialized sensors, like some beastformers or chemical processing frames. a few folks have very excellent chemoreception for no discernible reason, like Swerve who can break down the precise chemical components and general ratios of a drink just by taking one swig, which he discovers in Maccadam’s class is not universal to everyone. this is also a mostly unconscious sense, and the only way to shut it off is to shutter your vents

the senses most people can actively change sensitivity/shut off are hearing and electromagnetics, simply by “dialing down” or “tuning out” their sensitivity. everyone has a different range and lowest threshold. they can also lessen their sensitivity to gentle touch by fluffing out armor and creating distance between more sensitive inner vibratory sensors and duller, less acute outer armor receptors. like feeling a poke through a thick jacket

i had to google this guy and boy howdy his smile is the worst thing i’ve seen in my life

Enforcers use shields, yep, like riot shields. also multitools with knives, batons/nightsticks (often electrified to numb or burn out their target, not lethal the way it can be for humans), alt mode body armor for tactical driving (which is a real type of driving that is both cool and terrifying) or even vehicular battering rams, sledgehammers or other break-in tools when needing to get into a locked room, and of course their most common tools like nets, cables, and loops designed to trigger entrapment protocol. in extreme cases they’re authorized to use real weaponry, from incendiary devices to projectiles to aerosolized nanobot powder carrying a viral load of malware. this is all excused for being “necessary” to “keep the peace” of course, so it’s not forbidden in the eyes of functionism like even a good sword would be for regular people

yep, this aligns pretty well with typical Enforcer weaponry! right alongside grapeshot cannons, foam/adhesive bombs, tracking fob darts, and wire traps capable of tactile uploads of nerve-hacking code. lots of normalized police brutality here

depends on their alt mode and what they’re trying to dig through! ironically they probably won’t be anywhere near as efficient as an actual mechanimal would be, since digging mechanimals usually have their own alt modes to do things like that. some turbofox species have drill alt modes, as do borehounds, etc etc which are much better at tunneling than just paws and claws. also, the vast majority of Cybertron isn’t soil or dirt, and water erosion is not as common, so tunneling in general will probably be through solid rock and metal, shifting sand, or complex structural foundations. a dog can bury a bone in your backyard, but probably won’t get anywhere when trying to dig through half a mile of basalt!

trying to make it into and beneath buildings can be both easier and harder. easier because you know there’s empty space on the other side of the wall and sometimes you can take advantage of shoddy workmanship, harder because that isn’t a guarantee, maybe the architects decided to use titanium sheets to line this building and there’s no way you’ll break through that. a junker is far more likely to go through a vent system, fire escape, maintenance hatch, or other similar pre-made crawlspace than manually digging their way into a building. they’re also going to take advantage of the natural tunnels and substructures of the planet (eighth ask here), which can be like volcanic tunnels and rocky caves, but are just as likely to be something like the Channel Tunnel underwater highway, or subway systems miles and miles deep, or pits criss-crossed with scaffolding, or shafts of ventilation systems spreading between layers, except all of these things were formed by the planet instead of built. a lot of infrastructure taps into and takes advantage of these natural structures

i hadn’t thought too hard about this one before you asked, hm. uhhh. i don’t know if i can come up with anything specific off the top of my head so i’ll speak generally

video games are often made for immersive object interfacing via datacables, like a built in VR option, and some games are exclusively via object interface. they also can be a lot quicker/more demanding and have much busier visual displays, as mecha can take a lot of visual input at once without getting confused and have faster reaction times. there’s a pretty low threshold to make and distribute video games, since at least simple coding comes naturally to most people and it’s really not hard to whip up a quick game and throw it out into the wilds. there’s certainly a game industry that creates sprawling and complex high quality games, but the market for what we would call indie games is larger and easier to work in than it is for humans. the whole Sword Art Online premise is technically possible, but highly unlikely to actually work on even a few people at once, and the way object interface works means that a mech cannot “mentally travel” outside of a given individual system, with a closed system being most comfortable. no brain link to the internet for them, so no VR mmorpgs. (this limitation of course does not apply to Soundwave and his minicons, which is an endless source of frustration for everyone else)

board games, card games, and the like aren’t too dissimilar from what we use. mecha can build a game into a table using holoemitters, or use physical components. it’s up to personal taste and the needs of the game. generally gambling games are done with physical components to prevent hacking, or very specifically secured slot machines or other devices that cannot be easily compromised. tabletop rpgs usually come with an online hub of some sort to store and track data, provide stats, assets, and prompts, and model characters or settings to use with holoemitters or VR plugins. i don’t know enough about ttrpgs to actually flesh it out well, but the Cybertronian stand-in for D&D is called Cosmos and Canyons, and is based sort of off the mythology of the Knights of Cybertron. some of the JAAT faculty have an ongoing C&C game

depends on the individual and the culture, for both onyxoid and alt mode transportation. Sky Lynx for his part is totally fine with his friends playing horsie and riding him somewhere, as long as they ask first. it’s fun! Crucible, a former junker and current Academy maintenance worker, would probably throw someone on instinct if they tried getting up on his back. personal space and boundaries are still very much a thing, but no matter who it is, you’re gonna be considered very rude if you just hop up onto a stranger without asking

with alt modes, it’s a little different, because very few people are small/large enough to fit inside each other. sure, maybe before size classes became a thing that was possible, or maybe if a tiny size null curls up small enough, but not nowadays. the only time someone rides inside someone else is when a sparkling is carried by someone with enough alt mode storage space and isn’t uncomfortable with the sensation of someone inside them. this means that transportation isn’t so much reliant on people willing to use their own bodies as shuttles, trams, and cargo space, instead having people pilot nonliving vehicles, but functionism still dictates that transport alt modes go into transport jobs

exterior alt mode transport is a thing though! like Bumblebee on Orion here, hitching a ride on but not in someone is perfectly possible. rickshaws, trailers, and car hauler rigs are pretty common, and towing a car can be the same as a taxi ride in the right circumstance. it also very well might be getting arrested. again, personal space and boundaries are a thing, as well as culture. in Iacon it’s fine for Bumblebee to “piggyback” on Orion like that since they’re siblings, but on Caminus it would be seen as disrespectful. on Carcer, Bumblebee could probably do that to any kid he encountered and be just fine

(warning for robo-cannibalism)   uhhhh. all of it? like the spark would be gone, and the innermost would go dead pretty quickly, but once you break down and process the materials of the frame, even that is edible. the same type of simple processing of regular fuel material can be applied to a dead frame too

just eating it “raw” could pose some dangers, not unlike kuru/prion disease. ingesting material straight from a recently dead frame without doing typical food prep might leave large enough concentrations of immune system or self repair nanites intact, which might reactivate upon being introduced to a new frame with fresh energon and life energy radiating from the spark. activating nanites programmed to one specific frame while in an alien frame is a bad idea, as mentioned in the last answer here, and they might filter into the frame’s systems and do some serious damage before caught and/or digested. letting the corpse sit for long enough would mean the nanites collapse to the point of being unable to reactivate, so that’s a simple prevention. generally, you can know a body and all its constituent components is truly dead when it no longer registers as having electrical charge or stored heat, sometimes even burning those last few drops with rigor morphis or similar reactions. there are parasites and natural decay processes that can make a corpse a little icky, like rust/oxidization, congealing oil, etc, but it’s not as fast nor as terrible as rotting flesh and can generally be reversed or cleaned out alright

(the post this is referring to)

the universal body plan of a Cybertronian puts their central processor in their helm and their spark chamber somewhere in their central mass while in root mode. this doesn’t change, no matter what body type an individual has. when transformed, a person’s helm and thus processor is usually tucked away near the middle, or at least covered by good armor to keep it protected. but this isn’t always the case, depending on what sort of transformation sequence, kibble placement, and alt mode an individual has

so a beastformer can probably get their beast head decapitated and be alright for a bit, although their senses in root mode will be severely impaired, unless their frame is such that their actual central processor will be in their beast head. that’s a much more significant and life threatening wound, but not automatically lethal! mecha can survive decapitation, although i wouldn’t say to the level of TFA’s headmastery shenanigans. Lugnut for instance lost his helm and had it reconstructed, and while most of his original face is gone, his processor survived intact and was reattached quickly enough to save his life

personal fuel intake for food is a different process from alt mode material intake. whatever you put in your mouth is going to end up in your digestive system, and whatever you put in your alt mode intakes is going to end up in your alt mode processing systems, and those two are almost always completely separate. someone whose alt mode is an energon processor, packager, metals forge, ore refinery, or smelter of some kind won’t gain any energy or benefit from what they put in their alt mode, because they don’t actually digest and absorb those materials. now, toxic waste or similar harmful stuff can hurt them, but that’s more along the lines of close exposure instead of consumption

taking Crucible for an example, as a smelter, he’s got pretty tough processing systems that can melt and break down a lot of different stuff. as a former junker, he also has a hardy digestive system with the eating habits of someone used to taking any meal offered him. be it a meal or processing material, he’s likely going to be perfectly capable of breaking it down. another smelter might not have the same tough digestive system, but can still process the same materials in alt mode just fine, or perhaps vice versa

as for chomping through a wall, i don’t think very many people are capable of that regardless of how tough they are. first of all, the amount of material you’d need to consume to create a hole large enough to fit through is going to vastly exceed the amount of material physically capable of fitting inside your frame. on top of that, while mecha can certainly chew some pretty solid/dense things, that’s in the context of a prepared meal made with small enough portions to bite through, not an entire support column as wide as they are. the materials themselves may be edible in some cases, but not in the form of a building.also, have you ever tried taking a bite out of a wall? just shoving your face up against it and trying to chomp? i’ll confess i did try it specifically for this question and couldn’t even get my teeth to connect to the surface, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(the post this is referring to)

i’m familiar with ring species, but i still think the separation of entire solar systems is a bit different than a local barrier. i think we’re just going to have to agree to disagree here. i don’t think any species is ever safe from extreme change if forced into extreme circumstances, whether or not they’re sapient. the timescale i’m working with is four billion years, too, and the sheer variety in our own ecological record shows just how much life can morph in that time. this is also assuming that culture or government doesn’t decide to deliberately harness evolution via eugenics, or that the species wasn’t already made up of multiple subspecies or breeds. idk, i just think any given sapient species has less control over their existence than they think

[lightneverfades]

What if Variant Loki meets Variant Tony Stark after the timelines diverge, creating a new universe? And Tony is brought in to assist Loki with fixing the timelines?

More posts here <3

“You’ve captured Stark then,” Loki narrowed his eyes, his voice lacking any emotion, or so one would have thought as the Asgardian King stood before.

Looming behind King Loki was a green eyed Tony Stark, fully entranced under the god’s spell. A stream of emerald green magic trailed around his pupils, and although his lips were twisted into a smile, the emotion did not reach his eyes.

“And you’ve managed to escape... how tedious,” King Loki drawled, looking almost bored. With an exasperated sigh, he turned to look behind his shoulders at the spellbound man, and that was when a small smile took its shape. Both dopplegangers caught sight of each other and the tension was thick in the air.

Variant Loki raised an eyebrow, “I thought you said you were going to trick him, not bind him to you. That was the plan, no?” 

King Loki chuckled, “Yes, but then things change.”

“Really? I don’t see why you needed to? I save your realm, and you leave me to escape the TVA. That was the deal. And Stark, well...” Variant Loki’s gaze settled over Tony, who stood behind Loki obediently, “...he means nothing to me. A nuisance and a distraction, always getting in my way.”

Variant Loki almost saw Tony flinch but it could have been a trick of the light. 

“The thing is, Variant, while you exist, my realm is in danger. I cannot simply let you run amok, even if I wished it. Do so, and the TVA will always come to clean up the mess you have made,” King Loki said, his tone of voice becoming colder, dripping with condescension. 

I do not ‘run amok’! What is he playing at, Loki thought with a frown, annoyance creasing the lines in his forehead. 

This was supposed to be easy; find his doppleganger, entice him into tricking Stark enough to trip him up, then leave the mortal behind so that he could be on his merry way. Why did his other self make things harder for him?

“You may not be special, but he is, don’t you see?” King Loki said as he circled Variant Tony, whose eyes shimmered as if shards of emerald were gleaming within them, capturing the light. “Haven’t you noticed the traces of power on him?” 

Variant Loki frowned even further, “What power? There is nothing special about this mortal; he’s just an overly confident, foul-mouthed charlatan. If he had any inkling of magic in him, I would have noticed.”

King Loki was now treading his fingers through the air, wisps of magic surrounding Tony as a thin thread appeared around him and connected with the man, as if he were some sort of puppet and Loki were the puppet master. A somewhat translucent image formed and flickered like an old movie.

It was a figure of Tony Stark wearing what looked to be a gauntlet in his right arm. Embedded in each knuckle was a stone, and Variant Loki recognized the power each of them held, especially the one that glowed amber.

“The infinity stones...” King Loki breathed and the desire was evident in his voice. “If I had them in my possession, then no one would ever consider defying me. I will be more than a god. And this mortal has been touched by it; all his timelines converge so that he ends with the stones in his possession!” 

A sense of foreboding started to weigh on Loki as he noticed the look of greed that overtook King Loki’s face, twisting them. Even he, as ambitious as he was, couldn’t help but feel discomfort in the notion that this alternative version of himself, who had been able to get everything he desired, was still not sated of his lust for power. 

"The stones aren’t with him,” Loki remarked, “The TVA will try and destroy us all in the end. They’ll never help you gain that much power.” 

“Not intentionally, yes, but from what I have heard from Anthony Stark, they do like to bargain. If I get the stones, then I can destroy each and every one of them and rule over the universe! Their plans to eradicate my humble realm will be a thing of the past.”

Variant Loki pursed his lips, “And how, pray tell, are you getting those stones exactly?” 

King Loki seemed almost surprised to hear his own doppleganger speak these words, and he looked at Variant Loki almost with pity. “My... do I detect a trace of concern in your voice?”

“Concern?” Variant Loki scoffed, “No, of course not!”

“Then why have you been creeping over to Stark to try and break my spell?”

In a sudden movement, King Loki whirled to meet the gaze of the other Variant Loki who had been reaching out a hand to cut the threads entangled around Tony. There was no hesitation as a burst of magic blasted the clone with energy, and the Loki clone cried out, dispersing into thin air, leaving the real Variant Loki snarling a curse. He barely moved out of harm’s way as King Loki attacked again, throwing a full-on ball of magic at the Variant’s direction. 

“I am a far superior version of myself then you will ever be, Variant!” Loki laughed as another surge of magic was aimed in Variant Loki’s direction. 

His pride makes him weak, Variant Loki thought, but he didn’t bother to voice his opinion. He threw another counterattack at the Asgardian Loki and this time it hit its mark. Hearing a pained groan from his doppleganger and satisfied he had immobilized him for the moment, Loki turned his attention to Tony Stark, who seemed to stagger away from the battle, looking somewhat dazed as if being far away from his master was causing confusion to his steps. 

“Stark, wake up!” Variant Loki shouted, and he aimed his unbinding spell squarely in the mortal’s direction. It met its mark and the effect was instantaneous, Tony’s eyes turned back to its normal brown color as the effect of the magic faded. 

“What the hell!” 

King Loki’s smile vanished as quickly as it came and his expression contorted into a look of fury. “You dare take my moment of glory away from me, vagrant?”

This time it was Variant Loki’s time to laugh, his shoulders shaking with it, “A vagrant? Is that all you can spew as an insult? I’ve seen my brother sputter better insults then you have come up with!”

“A brother? I do not have, nor do I need a sibling to attest to my intelligence!” King Loki snarled. Behind him, a rush of armored men and women in Asgardian steel came to assist their king, a selection of different weaponry at the ready. “Take the mortal alive, but kill the impostor!” 

Tony was by Variant Loki’s side, shaking his head and trying to get the rest of the disorientation out of his mind. And as his fogged conscious became clearer, the nanobots in his body responded to his call for protection, enveloping his body with the Iron Man suit armor all the way until the top, leaving only his face unmasked. He turned to Loki and quirked an eyebrow.

“So why did you save me? Not that I’m not grateful and all,” Tony shouted as he knocked over the men who came at them with swords, maces and hammers. Loki groaned in exasperation as he blasted back a particularly large soldier out of his way. “Not now!”

“Okay, fine, but I’m getting that answer eventually, like it or not!” Tony cried out, amusement evident in his tone and Loki rolled his eyes. 

“You can try,” Loki challenged with a growing grin as both Variants fought side by side. 

[bryanhasanswers]

Morning-ish Part IV

So you want part’s one, two and three? You wanna see those first? Smart thinking kid. Well then, you gotta go: 

here for part I

here for part II

here for part III

Or maybe you DON’T want to read the first chapters? You just want to swing right into the middle of the jungle? Fine with me, Tarzan.

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

I was gone - Bryan Fury didn’t exist.

Nothing clicking no sparks. The ONLY thing keepin’ me connected to this shitty-ass world was the data stream from my cybernetic suite, informing me on my recovery status. So far the news had been pretty bad. I’d lost several liters of blood. There was kidney damage.... punctured lung... lacerated liver...

Shit! Not my LIVER - I need that fucker.

My brain had even been put into an artificially induced coma while the nano bots in my blood stream scurried around to the hotspots trying to rebuild all the destruction.

Seriously - is there ANY good news here?? Whoa, wait - did I just... think that?! I did! Hey - look at me - I’m thinkin’ again! I... I’m back... But then - why don’t I see anyth - 

The next sensation was...

Is that - booze? Yeah - an’ it smells like... vodka. But I can’t uh... see.

I didn’t know if my eyes were open or closed - if I was sitting or standing or lying down or what. It was a weird and pretty fucked up feeling. I started to panic a little and had to get a grip.

Keep it together BF... You can smell the vodka, right? Right?? Okay, then just focus on the booze... you’re good at that.

I put all my attention into the sense of smell. I tried to identify everything about it.

It’s cheap shit... plastic bottle. Reminds me of my college days... what was that shit we used to drink? Oh - yeah! I know what that is - it’s...

“....FF-ffffucking Popov VODKA!”

The thoughts exploded out of my lungs as words, and I HEARD them! Then out of the darkness, came another voice. It was a woman and she sounded almost as excited as I was.

“Mr E! Mr E!! He’s alive! He just spoke! He spoke!”

Like a high-tech chain reaction, my systems had been coming back on line. First my thoughts as the coma was reversed, then the sense of smell - then hearing and now... I could see wireframe images taking shape all around me. 

The room was being mapped with a bright green grid...

Low ceiling, pipes and shit - narrow stairs - some look broken... I’m lying on the floor, in a... a basement?

The wireframe was snapped to and mapped the person next to me who was shouting to “Dr. E.” 

That’s the chick who’s been shouting - She’s looking at the stairs... Are we in the basement of the book store? There’s a bottle next to her - that explains the booze smell - and bandages and other medical shit. She’s trying to help!

“Dr E! He’s awake! Awake!! Please hurry! Dr. E!” 

I could hear her voice was quickly slipping from excitement to fear. I turned in her direction and tried to smile. It didn’t have quite the effect i was hoping for.

“DOCTOR EBENEEZER! WHERE ARE YOU?! HELP! OH GOD, HE’S GETTING UP I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO...DO?!!!”

She tripped, fell back on her butt and I saw her featureless, texture-less wire frame form slide at warp speed backwards across the floor until she hit a shelf against the far wall. Some shit fell off and bounced on the ground around her.

Also - she was right! I was I was sitting up - fuckin’ nanobots RULE! 

But I needed to calm my mysterious benefactor down. I knew I must look pretty goddamn scary and the kid was starting to completely lose her shit.

“Omygodomygodomygodomygod - please don’t hurt me!”

I concentrated for a few seconds and then - the details popped in - I had color... texture...I could SEE - but now I needed to fucking speak. I could see my caretaker scramblin’ sideways along the wall like a startled fiddler crab knockin’ books and stools and junk all over the place until she slammed to an abrupt halt in the far corner of the room.

“H-Hhey - kid - shuddup, relax and lissen to me for a second...”

When I spoke it sort of had a mixed affect. At least her shouting stopped, which was a nice change, but she was frozen still as a statue sitting rigid against the damp clay tile of the old basement wall, staring at me with huge frightened eyes. I noticed the color immediately - hazel. 

The kid was pretty too. Dark brown hair, with faint freckles across the nose. She had those little adorable dimples you get from smiling a lot. She was wearing old, ripped jeans with cute little glam patches and glittery bull-shit on ‘em. and a baggy white sweatshirt that had three blue apples arranged in a triangle on the front. Yeah - that’s right - in just a fraction of a second, I could see all that. I could tell that this was a nice, goodhearted kid. It made me consider how this all must look to her...

You were probably helping out the weird old guy at the bookstore on weekends for beer money and now you’re face to face with a zombie, cyborg assassin, freak-show who has been shot a billion and six times and is now somehow sitting up and staring right at you.

My normal M.O. is to be the monster truck that drives mindless terror deep into the heart of my targets, just before I literally beat their brains out. 

I’m SUPER good at that. 

What I’m NOT super good at, is getting people to feel relaxed and comfortable around me. I’m not exactly and affable guy. I don’t know all the right shit to say in every situation - so I just went with the stupid ol’ truth.

“Kid - I know you were trying to help me. So cool your shit - you’re going to be okay.”

She continued to stare at me with those big, frightened hazel eyes. Shaking a little bit, and staying real silent. I kept trying to reach her.

“Look - I get it... this is an unusual situation. You’re scared. So... I’ll say it again nice and slow...so it sinks in. You... are... going... to... be... okay. And that’s a really big deal coming from me, because - I pretty much never say that. Now what’s your fu- ah what’s your name?”

She seemed to relax and her breathing got a little deeper and less rapid. Then she spoke - in a pretty goddamn steady voice too.

“Penny - I’m... I mean - you can call me Penny.”

[themoonlitsojourner]

Chapter 7: Uncertainty and Exploration

Through starry nights and music lessons, Wanda and Vision rediscover themselves. And begin to discover each other.

Despite the early hour and the fog clouding her brain since she found herself alone in this world, Wanda knows immediately who waits outside her room. Taking a deep breath, she prays for the energy to face this day. She opens the door.

“Good morning.” Her attempt at a smile barely counts, but at least it’s friendly. Anything to soothe her visitor’s nervousness.

“Would you care for a morning beverage?” Vision asks at the exact same moment, his words colliding with hers. He winces, and she’s sure he would blush if he could. “P-pardon me. Good morning.”

Focusing on the mugs in his hands, Vision starts again. “It is customary to consume a heated, caffeinated beverage in the morning. This seems like a practice that would appeal to you, so I have secured two options. I- I am not aware of your preference.” His blue eyes flick to hers. They are skittish, like the eyes of a deer. “Would you prefer green tea or filtered coffee? Or a different product, perhaps?”

“No, no, the coffee is fine.” She wraps her fingers around the warm ceramic and Vision shifts his hand away as soon as she has a secure grip. He is so careful to keep his fingers from brushing against hers. So careful to avoid making contact.

If it were anyone else, Wanda would think it was because of her, a fear of the storm of red that boils just below the surface of her hands. But she has seen inside his head. He is not afraid of her. He is the only one in this building who isn’t.

No, Vision is avoiding human touch, just as he does in the hallways, entering them only when there are fewer people who might brush against him. And the entire time, he keeps his shoulders curled forward, as if to make himself as small as possible.

Why does he avoid even the chance of contact? Why does he fear it so?

Wanda focuses on the mug in her hands, soaking in the heat and the familiar comfort it provides. Steam rises to her nose, but it does not carry the rich, dark scent of fresh coffee. Instead, a burnt and bitter odor greets her. Feeling Vision’s gaze on her, she dares to take a cautious sip.

If Vision made this himself, she knows the first thing they’ll work on.

Wanda’s wrinkled nose must give away her disgust. Vision rushes to assure her, “I have also procured cream and sugar for you to add, if you so wish.” He ducks into the library down the hall, returning with a wooden serving tray.

Wanda pours most of the cream from the little pitcher into her mug, stirring it with the teaspoon he holds out. “Did you get all this yourself?” Her second sip, at least, doesn’t make her cringe. She might have outgrown watered-down coffee years ago, but the cream makes this drink halfway palatable. And if nothing else, the cup will keep her hands warm.

“I retrieved the tray and its implements from the breakfast bar in the dining hall. The teaspoon I selected from the kitchen drawer. The spoons that had been set out for beverage use were not of the proper sort,” Vision explains, expression solemn. “A pot of coffee had already been brewed, but perhaps I should have prepared a new one…” He falls silent, brow furrowed as he watches her sip from the mug.

“It is good,” Wanda lies, and Vision’s shoulders drop in relief. He nods and turns to set the tray down. His golden cape, reaching almost to the floor, ripples around his boots with every step. Wanda follows its lines up his shoulders, frowning at the metal collar joining it to the tight fabric of his suit. None of it looks very comfortable, especially for more than a couple hours.

She looks down into her coffee, idly stirring the pale liquid in slow circles. “You still want my help, yes?” Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Vision turn around slowly.

“Yes.” The river of his thoughts speeds up, tumbling and rushing like rapids over rocks. Anxious. About what, exactly?

Wanda realizes her intrusion and pulls back from his mind, refocusing. “Okay. So...” She takes a deep breath. “Um... the outfit. It is fine for fighting and such, but otherwise you might want something more… relaxed?”

Brow furrowing again, Vision peers down at his clothing. “I must always stand ready to defend.” The phrase is flat. Automatic. Scripted, maybe? His eyes meet hers as he speaks his next words urgently, striving to convince her. Or himself. “It is my purpose and honor to defend and serve.”

Did Stark decide that for him? Is it something S.H.I.E.L.D. told him?

Wanda nods slowly. “It is admirable of you to think that. But there is more than one purpose in life. And things change. Always.” Suddenly, she cannot watch him any longer. Staring down into her coffee, she wills her blurred sight to clear. She has cried enough. “And when they do, there is no other option but to adapt.”

Vision watches her solemnly, eyes soft with sympathy.

Wanda takes a deep breath and forces herself to try another smile. “So. Daily clothing.” The mundane topic is awkward and alien on her tongue. There wasn’t much talk in the last few years about anything other than matters of life, death, and survival. The normal and the everyday belong in her memories. In another lifetime.

Nodding thoughtfully, Vision stares past the wall, irises swirling from one direction to the next.

Is he considering his options? Searching the internet, maybe?

“What would you suggest?” he asks.

Wanda purses her lips. Where in the tower could they find extra clothes… There is nothing she can remember seeing during her brief tour, but she remembers little of that first day. We could ask the Captain. She clenches her sweatshirt sleeves in her fists at the thought of venturing into the floors below.

Then suddenly her musings are swept away. Wanda blinks, brain scrambling to comprehend what she sees as Vision’s clothing seems to ripple and shift, both in style and color. Soon, a loose, plain cotton T-shirt and dark jeans drape his tall form. Not a trace of the suit or cape remains.

Her mouth falls open in astonishment. “How did you do that?”

“I am equipped with a thin layer of nanobots, easily controlled through a mental-cellular interface. I assume their purpose is the formation of clothing.” He holds his arms out to the side. “Do you think this attire will suffice?”

Wanda frowns. Vision’s old-fashioned, formal speech looks jarring alongside the modern style, and his perfect posture disrupts the loose fit. If anything, he stands even stiffer than when he wore the battle suit.

She tilts her head. “Is it… comfortable for you?”

“It is casual, is it not?”

“But are you comfortable? Do you like it?”

The corner of his mouth curves down. “Not… strictly speaking.”

Wanda nods. “Try something else, then. You will want it to fit you.”

Vision’s irises begin twirling, starting with the opposite direction this time. When he does that, what exactly goes on behind those blue eyes? She’s sorely tempted to look.

A moment later, his clothing shifts again.

Wanda examines the dark gray vest and tie over a long-sleeved white shirt with neatly buttoned cuffs. Pressed charcoal slacks and black dress shoes complete the simple, yet elegant outfit.

Vision looks to her, waiting

Wanda bites her lip. Maybe he should loosen the tie. Then again, he is obviously more comfortable dressed formally. His body language alone speaks loudly to that. She nods once. “This is good.”

“Good,” Vision repeats. She wonders if he’s aware that he mimics her nod and tone almost exactly. “Excellent.”

----------

During those first weeks after Pietro’s death, the intensity of the searing, screaming pain had not surprised Wanda. Neither had the crushing cloud of grief, or the red haze of anger that fogged her mind and numbed her senses during those dark nights she spent alone, hiding in the Bartons’ spare room.

Wanda has been through it all before. She knows loss well.

But now the grip of those feelings has started to fade, and what does surprise her is the boredom. The restless, irritable energy, the listless lack of focus. Every day is just the day before, completely identical in every way. Get up, train, meals, train, sleep.

There is no purpose. No drive. No one to hunt down and make pay for her brother’s death. No revenge to lie awake and plan.

She already ripped out the killer’s heart, but it was too late to save her own.

Not even the intense combat training, progressing as rapidly as she can handle, holds her attention. No matter how hard she throws herself into it, how carefully she blocks out everything but the red in her hands, she cannot lose herself in the movements. All the fighting does is bring the memories of her last battle rushing to the surface. Pietro’s last battle. And when each session finishes, it leaves her fighting to hide her pounding heart and the shaking that spreads from her hands.

There is no forgetting for her. No distraction.

Fortunately, Vision seems to have found some direction, or at least something to fill his time with. He must have read every book in the library on their floor once, if not twice, and frequently he phases through the floor with an armful pilfered from elsewhere in the building. Made-up stories, real stories, textbooks, manuals, encyclopedias, he reads them all. His desire to learn is insatiable.

If only Wanda could muster even half that enthusiasm for something. Anything.

Today, the late afternoon sun seeps through the library’s full-length window, illuminating the book in Vision’s lap. Wanda flips through the channels on the TV in the corner, jaw clenched in frustration.

It is Monday, the fifth (or maybe sixth) afternoon in a row they’ve spent in this room, and by far the quietest. They train every morning and evening except for Sunday, but the hours between are their “free time.” It’s a good thing the time is “free” because she has done nothing but waste it.

Wanda drums her fingers petulantly on the arm of her chair, restlessness coiling in her chest. She jabs the remote buttons again.

There is nothing on TV. Even worse, there is nothing to do, and she needs to do something. With a growl, Wanda hits the power button and tosses the remote to the table.

“Did you know mantis shrimp are equipped with sixteen different kinds of cones?” Vision suddenly says.

Wanda turns to look at him.

“That’s thirteen more than humans possess,” he remarks thoughtfully, eyes still tracing the page of the encyclopedia.

This was another new thing, his habit of sharing random facts. There is an unspoken understanding between them that they spend the afternoons here in their library because neither dares venture into the mob of noisy people and hectic thoughts that awaits them downstairs.

Wanda could take the solitude a step farther and stay in her room. Completely cut herself off from the noise. But somehow her room is too quiet. Too empty.

She wonders if he feels the same about his.

So they end up here, sharing each other’s company but rarely speaking. Not knowing what to say is another thing they have in common. Vision wants to talk, though. She can see it in the way he glances up from his book every once in a while, eyes darting to her, just briefly. And she tries to start the conversation sometimes, she really does. But it is frightening to realize how little she remembers of how. This is why Vision breaks the silence and she does her best to keep the conversation rolling.

Wanda tilts her head. “Cones? What cones?”

Vision straightens. “Oh, pardon me for the lack of context. I see this topic requires a little elaboration.” Enthusiasm brightens his eyes as he ponders how best to explain. He really does have nice eyes.

“The organic eye perceives light and color due to a thin layer of neurons and receptors covering its posterior wall. This layer is called the retina. The superficial layer of the retina is composed of photoreceptors, which come in two different varieties, cones and rods.”

Most of the words fly over her head, but Wanda cannot hide an amused smile as Vision adds his hands to his demonstration.

“The rods line the distal edges of the retina, providing sharp vision, while the cones cluster in the middle and supply color vision. Humans have three types of cones, each perceiving a different wavelength of light. Mantis shrimp, on the other hand, have sixteen different varieties.”

“So they see more colors?”

Vision purses his lips. “Oddly enough, no. They can see ultraviolet light, however, and a property of light called polarization. The latter is sort of the orientation of the light waves.” He holds his hands up side by side, first vertically, then horizontally.

“Hmm.” Wanda considers this, searching for a good question to ask. Her mind remains blank. It’s harder to think now that Pietro is gone, like trudging through knee deep snow with every thought.

After a few moments without a reply from Wanda, one corner of Vision’s mouth lifts. The other remains stubbornly flat, allowing him to offer her only an awkward half-smile before he ducks his head and returns to his book. It is the one expression he hasn’t figured out yet, likely because he always seems so unsure about it. As if he’s afraid to commit and show the wrong reaction.

Wanda bites her lip as silence returns to the room.

“It is quieter than usual.” She glances toward the hallway. Normally they can hear the murmur of activity floors below, but today there is an uncanny stillness. It is far quieter than even the weekend, which is only minimally less hectic than the rest of the week.

“Today is President Washington’s Birthday, a federal holiday,” Vision promptly replies.

Wanda stares at him.

He lifts his gaze and clears his throat, a little sheepish. “By which I mean no one except Agent Romanoff is working today.”

“No one else.”

“Correct.”

Wanda fiddles with her sleeves, tentatively reaching across the compound to confirm this. The only minds besides theirs are those of the security guards.

“Would… you be interested in exploring?” Vision traces the cover of his book, stealing a quick glance at Wanda’s face. “I haven’t had the chance to investigate most of the ground floor.”

Wanda looks around the library. There is nothing to do here. And the building is completely empty…

She shrugs. “I guess.”

Vision nods and stands, wiping his hands on his slacks. Despite the formality of the outfit, he looks comfortable in his vest and dress shirt. Still, he does not seem to completely grasp the idea of clothing. He hasn’t switched outfits since picking this one, choosing instead to just change the color every morning.

The moment they step from the elevator into the huge, empty lobby, Vision tenses. His eyes dart across the abandoned floor without seeming to actually see it.

“Let’s, um… Let’s go this direction.” Wanda tips her head toward the right, and Vision nods, blinking a couple times. They walk without talking, resisting the urge to tiptoe as their footsteps echo off the walls.

Most of the doors on the ground floor lead to bland offices, and the two floors above aren’t much better. The rooms are either locked, more offices, or storage.

Her flicker of anticipation for this journey has long died out and Wanda is about to give up, when they stumble across yet another storage room.

Vision examines the label on the door. “Prop storage.”

Wanda lifts an eyebrow. “Props for what?”

With a shrug, Vision opens the door, gesturing for her to enter first. The room isn’t nearly as large as some they’ve found, but it’s stacked floor-to-ceiling with boxes, totes, and assorted junk all the same. For a building only recently built and occupied, the Avengers wasted no time filling it.

Seeing only junk, Wanda turns to exit. But when she doesn’t hear footsteps behind her, she glances over her shoulder to see Vision wandering deeper inside. With a sigh, she follows, fingers trailing idly over the shelving units.

“Theatre props is the first possibility that comes to mind, but I can see no logic in it,” Vision muses, still stuck on the room name.

Smooth leather meets Wanda’s fingertips, and she stops.

Is this…?

Reaching into the shelf, she slides out a black case and sets it on the floor. Her hands find the latch by memory, and she can’t hide the triumphant smile that crosses her face as the lid opens to reveal an acoustic guitar.

“Do you play?” Vision asks, peering over her shoulder.

“I did.” Wanda traces the wooden grain and gives the steel strings a gentle pluck or two. Glancing up, she catches Vision watching her expectantly. “What?”

“Are… Are you going to play it now?” Curiosity gleams in his eyes.

Her arms ache to hold it, her fingers to slot the notes and strum the strings. The need to play it winds together with another familiar ache, just as strong. The memory of her instructor. Her mama.

“No.” Wanda shuts the case.

“Oh.” Vision frowns. “Are you sure? I don’t think anyone would mind.” He glances around the empty room.

Wanda lifts the case and slides it back onto the shelf. “I’m sure.” Her curt tone keeps away any questions.

A few minutes later, they return to the library. But Wanda’s thoughts linger in the cramped props room all day.

The next morning, she is greeted by a black leather case outside her door. Frowning, Wanda eyes the case and searches for Vision’s mind. His thoughts echo from downstairs. Wanda shakes her head and sighs. She told him she wasn’t going to play.

For a moment longer, she stares at the smooth leather, picturing the instrument inside. She bites her lip. Kneeling beside the case, she flips open the lid. The guitar lies there quietly. Inviting. Promising. A soft brush of her fingers breaks the silence with a low hum. It needs to be tuned. Wanda pulls the case into her room and closes the door behind her. Before she can change her mind, she lifts the instrument into her arms.

The guitar is lighter than she expected, than she remembered. Yet it feels just as right. The strings are strong and familiar under her fingers and the ring of the notes resounds in her chest. The ache, the itch to play becomes louder than the need to avoid digging up old grief.

This floor really does belong to her and Vision, so no one will hear if she plays a few chords. None of the other rooms have ever been used, not even the offices, and not a single employee dares journey up here. Wanda feels the frantic spikes of fear in their minds on the rare occasions she enters their domain downstairs; it doesn’t take much to put two and two together and realize she has been isolated on purpose.

Normally, it would anger her. Normally, she would give them a piece of her mind. But she’s tired, and she is grateful for the solitude. For the quiet.

Especially today, when there is no one to hear her and ask questions, such as who taught her to play, or what the song is, or why she chose such a “sad” chord.

Wanda frets a D minor. She strums the waiting strings.

And finally the world fades away as she falls into the music.

----------

If the days are long and suffocating, the nights are worse. Darkness falls and Wanda lies awake, sleeping fitfully or not at all. The nightmares are fewer, but still she can’t sleep. Insomnia, Vision calls it.

But she avoids the subject, because she can’t talk about how her sleeping mind seeks out the comfort of his, diving into the ocean of gold when the nightmares start. Or how even her few good dreams take place on the seashore now. It’s too much, too close. Too personal to put into words.

There’s something about Vision. Wanda doesn’t understand it, but his mind and soul glow brighter than any she’s ever seen before. And somehow he and she are connected.

Yet every morning, she wakes and reminds herself she can’t lean on the comfort and reassurance he so willingly offers. What if she grows to need it? What if she begins to need him, and like everyone else in her life, he is taken away? She’ll be left behind again. Left alone.

She always is.

Wanda stares at the ceiling, her own breath too loud in her ears, nearly as loud as the thoughts burning in her mind. Flinging the covers aside, she slips from bed. There will be no sleep tonight.

The digital clock reads 2:11 AM. She walks just to move, to do something. She can’t outrun her own mind. But she can try.

Wanda tiptoes down the darkened hallway. The elevator looms ahead, and she stops. Down? No. The last thing she wants is to run into an obsessive employee working late into the night.

So up, then.

The doors open onto the rooftop and Wanda steps blinking from the harshly lit elevator. Slowly, her eyes adjust to the gentler light of the night. One by one, like frightened children, stars surface in the sky above, outlining a figure stationed at the building’s edge. His cape swirls softly in the brisk February wind.

She does not have to guess who it is.

Always, she and Vision end up together. In the library. Here. Are they really so similar that they seek the same places? Or did she search for him subconsciously? (She suspects it wouldn’t be the first time.) Or was it the invisible thread pulling them, a connection she can’t comprehend born from the moment she looked into his mind as he lay dreaming in the cradle. Part of him was still Ultron then. But Vision was there. She felt it.

Wanda steps quietly across the concrete. She stops just behind Vision, unwilling to disturb him but reluctant to go inside.

“I was disappointed to hear the New Avengers team would not be based at Stark Tower,” Vision says suddenly.

Stark. Wanda bites back a scoff. His disappointment is not mutual.

“It has nothing to do with Mr. Stark,” Vision continues, guessing her thoughts. “It is only that I have a certain… fondness for his view of the city lights.” He stares out over the dark countryside and she joins him, standing a couple feet from the edge. “They represent the life of the city, spread across the streets below. Still bright despite the hour, shining on both those awake and those peacefully slumbering. Pushing back the night like guardian angels. Providing a sense of comfort and safety.”

Vision’s words have the rhythm of poetry. His eyes glow softly like the light he paints such a reverent picture of. Wanda watches the serene blue spill over his pensive expression. In his light, she sees comfort. Safety. Just as he says. She looks away.

“There are more stars here, though.” Wanda nods toward the sky above. “You can’t see them in the city.”

Vision cranes his neck, searching the galaxies spread across the darkness. “But they’re so very far away,” he whispers. Curling his long legs beneath him, he sinks to the concrete, his head still tilted back to stare above.

Wanda stands in silence. She doesn’t know how to answer. Why his expression is so sorrowful or how to fix it. She doesn’t understand the source of his pain. But the ache of watching stars at night… This she understands. No matter how brightly, how beautifully they shine, they always burn out.

Wanda traces a meteor as it streaks across the sky and disappears from view.

Some stars even fall.

After a moment, Wanda sits beside Vision and pulls her knees to her chest.

The brilliant, glimmering show of the galaxies unfolds above them, millions of light years away. They watch until it melts before the threat of the morning light. Until every trace fades as if it were never there.

They do not say anything.

----------

Knock knock.

Stifling a groan, Wanda rolls out of bed and stumbles to the door.

“Hello.” Vision offers her a smile and a mug of coffee. The smile is as tentative as always, lifting only half his mouth. But a new light in his eyes makes up for it. “Good morning, Miss Maximoff.”

“Wanda,” she reminds him, accepting the steaming cup. She barely remembers to mumble her thanks before taking a long drink. Vision, as it turns out, is a much better coffee brewer than whoever made the burnt, bitter monstrosity.

Vision nods his acknowledgement. Is it just her grogginess, or does he hold his shoulders higher? Not with tension but with… confidence. He meets her eyes eagerly, boldly. As if he truly wants to be here. With her.

But maybe it’s just her imagination.

Vision’s gaze flickers past Wanda and into her room, just briefly. A sudden twinge of guilt twists in her chest. She didn’t join him in the library yesterday. In fact, after he delivered her morning coffee, she didn’t see him at all until nighttime. When they met on the rooftop under the stars.

She had spent all her time with the guitar, letting it pull her in and awaken an all-consuming desire to relearn the sound of the notes and the feel of the rhythm. To reclaim a piece of herself. And to be honest, she has no desire to share something so personal with anyone else. But Vision brought her the instrument. He gave her the push she needed to actually play it. It is only fair she let him hear a little.

Wanda takes another sip of her coffee to hide a sudden smile. With eyes as lively and curious as his, how could she say no? Lowering her mug, she clears her throat. “Also, thank you. For the guitar. I would not have gone back for it myself.”

“You are most welcome.”

She shifts from one foot to the other, suddenly nervous. “Would you… want to hear it?”

“Oh, yes please! If you don’t mind.” Those blue eyes Wanda can’t stop noticing glimmer with childish enthusiasm, and some of her hesitancy fades. She opens the door a bit wider and returns to her seat on the bed. Vision follows, gaze darting across the room, hands wringing. He stops just inside the doorway.

Breathing deeply, Wanda bends her head and focuses on her breathing. With each inhale and exhale, another piece of the world around her fades. Vision’s presence, the hum of activity floors below, the heater’s droning buzz. Her fingers slide down the polished fret. The strings bite into her sore fingertips, but the notes she plucks are clean and crisp.

They ring slowly and distinctly at first, each with a bold and individual voice. After a few measures the melody begins to grow, building and expanding beat by beat. Notes find their places, melding with their harmonies in a tune mounting in complexity. The volume, the tension builds until all the notes weave together, their voices joining in a single resounding chord that ends the song.

Wanda smiles to herself. The hours spent perfecting that piece and her red, aching fingertips are well worth it. Glancing up, she falters at the sight of Vision’s face. His eyes are wide and awestruck, as if she just performed a baffling magic trick. Though quite proud of herself, she must admit the tune isn’t particularly difficult or beautiful. But Vision’s expression says he thinks otherwise.

His gaze leaps from her, to the guitar, and back. “How did you do that?”

“I just… press my fingers here...” Surely he knows how guitars work.

“No, how did your hands move with such swiftness and precision? And in perfect coordination with each other?”

Her face reddens. “It wasn’t perfect.”

He stares at her hands. “It was entrancing.”

Wanda fidgets with the tuning pegs, embarrassed by his unabashed honesty and admiration. “Anyone could learn that.” The image of Vision poring over encyclopedias and old novels jumps to the front of her mind. “You could.”

His eyes snap to hers. “Oh, I truly don’t think so...”

“Would you like to try?”

“I-I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Giving him an encouraging smile, Wanda nods toward the bedspread next to her. The guitar looks small and delicate in Vision’s large hands as he carefully accepts it from her, propping it against his knee in an imitation of her posture. Awkward and uncertain, he looks to Wanda for guidance.

“Alright. The basics are mostly form and knowledge of the notes. The first string is an ‘E.’” She nods to him. He finds and plucks it. “Good. By holding the string against the board there at the top of the neck, you will make another note.” The “F” Vision plucks twangs brassy and flat. “You’ll have to press harder.”

He nods, brow furrowing as he applies more pressure and tries again. The note rings clear and musical.

“Good. To make a chord, press with more than one finger. The E minor is your second and third fingers on the second fret, fifth and fourth strings.” Her fingers curve around the empty air, miming the placement.

It takes her a moment to notice the wide-eyed look he gives her.

Wanda’s about to suggest they stick with single notes for now, when Vision cranes his neck and stares at the fretboard. “Second and third fingers,” he whispers to himself. His long, elegant fingers are strangely clumsy on the strings, fumbling to find the position.

“Second fret,” Wanda reminds him. She bites her lip as she watches him struggle. “Here.” She reaches for his hand. And just a moment too late, she remembers his aversion to touch.

Her fingers brush his and he jumps as if struck by electricity, the instrument nearly slipping from his grasp as he yanks his hand away.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Wanda apologizes, face flushing bright red. Vision set a boundary through his careful actions, and she crossed it. It’s no way to repay someone who has been nothing but overwhelmingly kind to her. I didn’t mean to, I am so sorry-

“No, no, I must apologize. I honestly didn’t mean to respond in such a manner.” Guilt and horror at his own reaction chases the shock from Vision’s face. He looks just as sorry as she feels.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s my fault. I should have asked.” Her entire face burns. He’s so new and inexperienced, more frightened and unsure than she probably knows.

“You only surprised me. I-” Vision stares down at the instrument in his hands. He takes a deep breath and his shoulders loosen downward a fraction of an inch. “I actually would like you to show me. The chord, that is.”

Glancing nervously toward his hands, Wanda bites her lip again. “M-may I?”

Vision’s irises rotate just once. She sees the moment he chooses to trust her. “Yes.”

His fingers are rigid and cold as she gently nudges them in the right direction, trying to keep her own hands from shaking as she explains how the notes fit together. He follows her guidance as best he can, the stiffness never leaving his hands. When Wanda checks out the corner of her eye, his jaw is just as tense as his arms. But then he glances at her, just briefly. And his eyes are soft and open. Longing, almost.

There is so much she does not understand about him. His sorrow the night before, his fear of people and touch. The hidden shame she’s just starting to hear behind his words. But there are some things that make sense now. There are some things she knows.

He trusts her. The realization startles Wanda in how sudden and obvious it is. He talks about his interests to her, lets her see the nervous and scared parts of him. He lets her guide his hand across the strings, despite the measures he takes to avoid even casual contact in the hallway.

Vision trusts her. But he doesn’t trust anyone else, and she knows exactly why. The few instances she’s seen him interact with others flash through her mind. Yes, he chooses to keep his distance, even during conversations, and never once has she seen him shake someone’s hand. But now that she thinks about it, she’s also never seen anyone offer him a handshake.

The people of Sokovia had avoided touching urchins such as Wanda and Pietro like they carried a disease. And isn’t Vision just like they were? Isn’t he new, and uncertain, and afraid, just like a child? Sent into the world alone just like an orphan?

Anger burns in her chest. S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to take care of Vision, but they handed him off. Dropped him at the doorstep of the compound, where he is ignored and avoided by every employee. Where he is nothing to the Avengers but another recruit to whip into shape.

Wanda may not know them well, but she is certain the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. would not abandon a child. No, if a child was placed in their care, they would guide and nurture him, providing whatever he needed as he struggled to learn and develop. As he tried to discover who he was. And if they could not provide this, they would place him with someone who could. They would not fail a child the way they have failed Vision.

Do they really not see him?

“Perhaps I am capable of learning to play an instrument,” -Vision’s voice pushes Wanda’s thoughts aside, pulling her back to the present- “But I think I shall leave the music to one with more skill.” He gives her the half-smile, and her heart breaks a little.

She shakes her head slowly, trying to refocus. “You are not so bad.”

Vision passes the guitar to her. “Could I hear another song?” He asks so shyly, and a soft affection fills her heart.

Wanda shrugs, settling the guitar in her lap. “I guess it is not yet time for training. One more.” Her fingers move almost on their own as a flurry of thoughts continues to tumble through her mind. She feels Vision watching her contentedly, open admiration written across his face.

He is so young, so eager and afraid all at once. So desperate to make a connection and find something to hold onto. He needs more than someone to ask questions of and tell unusual facts. He needs direction, to be introduced to experiences and the world outside this building, just as he so strongly desires.

The Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. have failed him, completely. Forgotten him.

Wanda will not.

[cogroni]

Probably a tone of people have seen the new warriors and like most of the people, I had my problems with their appearances. So I gave them a redesign, just for fun. 

Speedpaint: https://youtu.be/SxtR2pG2guk

Trailblazer

I actually liked her outfit, cute and the colores were well-composed but I didn’t understand what they wanted to tell with her color pallet. Even for a modern look, this seems to be over the top. So I toned her down and colored her blue and yellow. Blue as a calm color (she strikes me as the level deaded) and yellow for her positive attitude, and energetic nature.

The second thing I found off was her backpack, how is she supposed to pull objects from her bag? Have you tried reaching into your bag while on your shoulders? Impossible. She could set it down and pull things out but that is time-consuming and absolutely impractical while in battle.

Another impractical thing are her earrings, they look good but they could be riped out in battle and that’s no fun. 

forth thing... Is nobody interested to keep their identity safe anymore? Trailblazer is supposed to be a normal teenager, is she just gonna throw her life away and just become a target for every villain around? Because it’s really easy to take her out, take her bag away and knock her out... so I gave her a superhero mask, those that totally work to not be recognized :D IDK

Screentime

I’m no expert on the heroes of marvel but the inernetgas is just laughable. Sure a tone of stories sounds laughable when you strip them of any context. Spidermans radioactive spider bite sounds stupid when shined on by the right light but there is a difference, and that is that we can reason a Spider being effected by radioactivity, those hefty changes are impossible but radioactivity changes organisms. This is just an exaggeration. Internetgas is something we can’t grasp because on surface-level we don’t understand what it does, and how it should be functioning. 

Personally, ii hope internetgas is just a joke name and it’s actually tiny nanobots that connected to Screentime's nerve system and stimulate his brain to see things differently and give him access to the internet... I also thought that it would be cool if he could connect to technology and use drones and other technology to fight. (Conspiracy here: Internetgas might also be a joke that the internet is supposed to make a meme out of and we are falling into a trap cleverly constructed by marvel... 

or at least they can spin it that way)

Also, I gave him a screen as a visor... because memes are only half as fun when you can’t share them. 

Snowflake and Safespace

I don’t know what to comment, their names are stupid enough said.

I wasn’t a fan of their outfits either, they looked spacy but said nothing, just some teenagers that didn’t grow out of the “we look alike so we dress the same, tehe” phase. 

Snowflake became a little bit more “sharp” and Safespace more square, like a wall that protects. Their outfits are still looking alike because they seem to share a deep bond, they are just less bland.

I colored the outfits fitting for what they're doing, keeping Snowflake in the blues was out f question but I changed Safespace to green, a grounded color with the feeling of pice and strenth. Pink was a little too hectic for me, it didn’t portray safety to me more action and stress.

I also colored their hair in a natural color. I have nothing against colored hair, I just found it to be an indicator for a superhero and a risk to be spotted out of costume. That’s also why the both wear visors (thinking about it again there is probably a better option for them but it’s usable). 

B Negative

I just gave him the emo 2000s look. I actually really love his design, I just redid it because I did it for all the others... it’s just an expansion on his look, I wouldn't call it a redesign. for him, the Pink actually works but I chose to give it a more reddish tone.

[pilot-boi]

Beginnings: Chapter 2

Safe Arrival

Jaune explains some things, Ren tries to understand, and they come to a decision

AO3 LINK

Jaune was back on the ship. Something beeped periodically, but no matter how much he searched the cockpit, he couldn’t find the source of the sound. His movements felt sluggish, like he was moving through a pool of jelly. The colors were either too bright or too muted. Perspective zoomed and faded. Everything felt like it was tipping over. Was he tipping over?

“…days now…”

Jaune’s head swiveled towards the sound. Ren? When had he gotten on the ship? He was on Ventos Prime. Not Talbos Prime. Unless he’d gotten mixed up in the crash…?

“… didn’t tell you anything?”

Jaune’s head turned to the other side of the cabin. Mom? She certainly wouldn’t be on the ship. She- she hated flying. Why would… why would she be here?

Jaune’s mind felt as slow as his movements. Exhausted, he let himself lean back in his seat. The beeping grew louder.

---

Everything hurt. Especially his arm. He groaned in pain and tried to sit up, but as soon as he did, what felt like several pairs of arms pushed him back down, and choruses of “Please, relax,” “Don’t strain yourself, Mr. Arc,” and “You’re gonna be okay.”

Jaune blinked his eyes open, flinching back against the bright hospital lights. God, he hated hospitals.

As his eyes adjusted, he could make out the figures of his mother, Ren, two nurses, and a doctor standing at the sides of his bed, all staring at him. He had a few IVs attached to his left arm, and his right arm was completely bound in a translucent fluorescent green cast. Little nanobots moved around his broken arm, going into it to fix the bone. Something was wrapped around his head, but he couldn’t tell what.

Despite the results of the previous attempt’s results, Jaune tried to sit up again. “What’s going on?” he asked, his voice hoarse and nervous. “Where am I?”

The nurses gently pushed him back down again.

“His head was injured badly,” the doctor said, ignoring Jaune and turning to his mother and Ren. “He might be a little out of sorts for a couple of days. We’ll have to keep him here for a while, until then…”

Everything faded to black as the nurse turned up the IV drip.

---

“This isn’t a good idea,” Ren said, following Jaune carefully down the side of the canyon.

“We’ll be fine,” Jaune insisted, nearly losing his footing again. “Trust me.”

Ren didn’t, but that wasn’t going to stop him from making sure Jaune didn’t injure himself. Again.

They were walking through the cliffs where everyone was specifically told not to go. The rocky trails had led to many accidents, and were regarded as dangerous. Jaune had never cared about danger, taking chances that often made Ren feel more like the responsible adult friend.

Ren’s heart might have stopped for a second as Jaune started speeding down the trail.

“What can be so exciting that you would risk dying and going against your mom’s instructions not to go down here under any circumstance?” Ren asked, trying his best to keep pace with his speedy friend. It was no use. Jaune was already far ahead of him.

“You’ll see!” Jaune called from the bottom of the canyon. “Now hurry up!”

Ren sighed and picked up his pace, jumping the last piece and landing next to Jaune. “Okay, show me, so we can get out of here without getting in trouble.”

Jaune grinned and grabbed Ren’s wrist, pulling him behind him and through a crack in the canyon wall. The pair was plunged into darkness, and Ren was glad Jaune seemed to know where he was going. Suddenly, it was bright again.

Jaune spun around and spread his arms wide, “Ta-da!”

Ren gaped in awe, looking around the small cavern that had been invisible a moment before. A small pond sat at the center, and a crack in the ceiling let a beam of light illuminate the area. A few cliff birds chirped from their nests in the walls. Soft moss covered everything.

“I thought it could be our secret hideout,” Jaune said, tossing his shoes and socks off and sticking his feet in the pond. It was so clear it was almost like glass. The ripples moved across the surface, shifting the water lilies on its surface.

Ren followed suit, and the two let their feet drag in the shallow water.

“I like the sound of that,” Ren said, his usually stoic face splitting into a wide grin.

Jaune grinned back.

---

Ren sat in the chair in Jaune’s hospital room, watching his friend with eyes full of worry. Jaune had woken up several times, still mostly dazed and panicked. With the nanobots working to fix his body, and his brain, he was having horrible nightmares. Mostly he just whimpered, but sometimes he called out for Ren… for his mom… for anyone. It hurt Ren seeing his friend so… so afraid.

He knew Jaune was reckless, but this was something else. What could have possibly caused Jaune to so suddenly just abandon the Academy? He’d worked so hard to get in, and from their correspondences, Ren knew Jaune was a promising student with high grades and a near perfect attendance.

Unless that too had been a lie.

Ren snapped to attention as Jaune stirred in his bed. When Jaune didn’t move again, he leaned back again.

When Jaune had shown up at Ren’s door just a few days ago, Ren hadn’t known what to think. He hadn’t even had time to think between rushing Jaune to the hospital, calling his mother, and talking to what felt like twenty different nurses and doctors. Now that things had slowed down… Ren was just trying to make sense of it all.

Jaune had always told him everything that was bothering him. He should have known something was wrong when Jaune stopped messaging him as often two months ago. He should have called, checked on his friend, made sure everything was really alright.

Can’t change any of that now, he thought, letting his eyes drift closed. What’s happened has happened. For now, he just had to make sure Jaune recovered. Talking could come later.

---

Ren watched from a distance as Jaune’s mother yelled at him in that way only mothers could. Jaune nodded along, apologizing and promising to “never do something so reckless again.”

Maybe it was just Jaune still being tired, but he didn’t seem that focused on what his mother was saying. It felt more like Jaune was focused on something else. He knew that stubborn look in Jaune’s eye, and he’d known Jaune long enough to know that was never a good thing. But maybe he was just imagining things.

Ren really wanted to be imagining things.

---

“Jaune, it’s nothing,” Ren said anxiously, having to pick up his pace to keep up with his friend. “Really, I’m fine.”

Jaune didn’t stop.  “It’s not ‘fine.’ I’m not going to sit back while these idiots treat you like crap because of me.”

Ren felt himself come to a stop as Jaune marched on. There was that fiery determination in his eyes. Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing, especially anyone who would even try and hurt someone Jaune cared for.

Anyone trying to hurt Jaune himself, that he could brush aside. But he’d never been able to stop himself from through himself in harm’s way to protect the people he cared about.

Ren was far enough away that he only caught a few words. The one’s he did hear, he hated.

“You’re nothing, half-breed,” one of them snapped.

“Ren would be better off with us than with a filthy grett like you,” the other added, spitting on Jaune’s face.

Ren flinched when one of the boys pushed Jaune backwards. Jaune said something that made the boys' faces twist with anger. Jaune managed to dodge the first few punches, but they were bigger than him, and he’d never been that good in a fight. 

It wasn’t long before they had punched him out. Ren started running towards them the moment Jaune got punched, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop them from giving him a few kicks to the stomach.

They sneered at Ren before running off.

Ren grabbed Jaune, throwing him over his shoulder and rushing him back to his house.  

A few days later, Ren was allowed to see Jaune again in the hospital. Bandages were wrapped around Jaune’s chest, and his arm was held delicately in a sling.

“I really showed them, huh?” Jaune asked, laughing.

Ren started to chuckle too before he noticed Jaune buckle in pain.

“Broken ribs,” Jaune said, smiling tensely at Ren. “The nanobots are still working at fixing them.”

“You are going to get yourself killed one of these days,” Ren shook his head, half teasing. The other half seriously worried that Jaune would one day get himself killed.

“No, I won’t,” Jaune responded. “You won’t let me.”

---

Jaune never explained why he dropped out, and Ren didn’t push. After Jaune got out of the hospital, he had to stay home for a week to recover fully. Ren took it upon himself to make sure that Jaune actually recovered and didn’t go try and steal another ship.

Spending so much time with Jaune, he saw the difference.

He knew low grades and a pulled scholarship weren’t the real reasons Jaune had stolen a ship and almost died just to get back to Ventos Beta.

Usually he was a joking, amicable, upbeat person, but when Ren was talking to him, Jaune felt more reserved. Like he wasn’t really there. Once or twice, he even snapped at Ren before immediately apologizing and laughing it off as “just tired” or “cabin fever.”

Ren knew something was wrong, and it wasn’t whatever Jaune was blaming it on.

As soon as Jaune could leave, he did. Ren felt like a lost dog, trailing uselessly behind him. He wasn’t usually so focused, and Ren began to be even more worried when Jaune’s trail led down to the docks.

“It just feels good to see real ships again,” Jaune said when Ren asked him why they were there. “They hardly let us get near the big ones back there.”

That was another thing. Jaune never said ‘The Academy’ anymore. Always just ‘them’ and ‘back there’ and ‘my dorm,’ and never with any fondness. In all the years Ren had known Jaune, he’d never heard him refer to something with such contempt.

“Bad memories,” Jaune said, smiling reassuringly. “It’s in the past now.”

The only thing stronger than his anger at the Academy, it seemed, was Jaune’s anger at himself. Every time a headache made him have to slow down, or his arm started hurting again, Ren noticed him become frustrated and seething.

“I’m fine,” he’d insist stiffly, avoiding eye contact with Ren.

“Just tell me what’s wrong,” Ren said finally. “I want to help.”

But Jaune only brushed him off and walked down to the docks again. It wasn’t like Jaune to bottle things up, and Ren was half convinced his head injury had done something more than make him delirious for a few days.

Eventually though, Ren had to go back to work, and he couldn’t keep a constant watchful eye on Jaune. While he trusted Jaune’s mother, he knew she wouldn’t be willing to follow her son all over the city every day until he finally returned home late in the evening.

When he was able to visit though, Ren spent his time with Jaune trying to pry more information out of him without pressing his friend too much. It felt like he was interrogating a rock.

---

The day Jaune got his cast off, he was out of the house almost as soon as they got back from the hospital. Ren started to follow, but Jaune turned and stopped him.

“I’ll be back later,” Jaune said, but something in his voice told Ren otherwise. He wasn’t meeting Ren’s eyes.

A few minutes after Jaune left, Ren followed. He knew where Jaune had gone.

The docks were filled with people. Traders, scavengers, GAAP agents, and regular citizens. Finally, after almost half an hour of searching, he spotted Jaune. He was talking to someone. Handing that someone a card. Shaking hands. Stepping onto a ship.

Ren ran forward, shoving his way through the crowd, “Jaune!”

He saw Jaune freeze and start to turn towards Ren before stopping himself. Jaune didn’t want to look back.

Ren’s hand caught the door just before it finished sliding shut, and he forced it back open. Once he slipped inside, it slid shut behind him and beeped cheerfully. He took a step forward, and alarms suddenly started blaring around him, lights flashing red.

Jaune appeared just as suddenly at the end of the hallway, his face going from confused to upset.

“I told you not to follow,” Jaune said, pressing a button and turning off the alarms. “This isn’t… this isn’t smart.”

“I was not going to let you run off and get yourself hurt again,” Ren replied, folding his arms across his chest.

“Who made you the protector of me?” Jaune snarked, folding his arms in turn and standing his ground.

“Me,” Ren said. “Because I care about you, and you are not thinking clearly.”

Jaune heaved a sigh and leaned up against the wall of the ship. “Sure. Okay.”

“You have to talk about this eventually,” Ren said, taking another step forward. Jaune stared him down, but he was wavering. “I need to know what is going on. What’s wrong?”

Jaune looked back at his friend, steely determination melting into frustration.

“I couldn’t stay there any more,” Jaune began, looking down at his feet. “There was always this pressure to be the best, and for a long time, I think everyone thought I was. The best at flying, at least. Even if I got in trouble for my methods all the time.”

Ren knew that. Jaune had often called him, upset that the instructors didn’t let him fly how he knew how to fly.

Jaune continued, his knuckles white and his jaw tight. “It got suffocating. My teachers didn’t push me. They either gave up or thought I knew everything so why bother. Everyone looked up to me as this perfect student who could do no wrong, and I hated it, because it was such a lie. I felt like I had to live up to their expectations for my family, and if I failed, they’d hate me. I didn’t want those expectations. I just wanted to blend in, not be forced into the spotlight.”

Jaune gripped his arm tight, digging his fingers into the fabric of his sleeve. “So I stopped trying. I stopped doing my homework. I skipped class. I cheated on tests I already knew the answers to or just didn’t complete them at all. 

“I let my grades drop. When— The day they sent me a notice, saying they were going to pull my scholarship, I started packing right away. I hid the letter from Sapphron, and kept my plan a secret from her. Once I had everything planned out, I ran away. I stole one of the student ships that they use for short flights around the school and left. I crashed on Talbos Prime a couple days later. That’s when I—”

Jaune glanced down at his recently healed right arm. “Yeah. I did my best to keep myself alive while I fixed the ship, but I think my anger at crashing kept me alive better than any bandages or medicine. Once I got off of Talbos Prime, I flew back here, and, well, you know the rest of the story.”

There was a moment of silence between them as the story sunk in. Then Ren closed the space between them. He pulled Jaune into a tight hug, making sure to be careful of Jaune’s arm.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, pulling away. “We could have talked about this, or at least found a better way for you to leave the Academy than running away on a stolen ship.”

Jaune shrugged. “I needed to do this on my own,” he said. “I had to make a decision for myself instead of just letting myself drift through life without a purpose. I couldn’t stay here either. If I stay here… I stay stagnant. I become a farmer or I just… ugh, Ren there is nothing here for me!”

He met Ren’s eyes with fury. “As much as I love Ventos Beta, my life isn’t going to go anywhere here. It’s out there! Out among the stars!” Jaune’s eyes lit up as he spoke, passion building. “I want to see new worlds! I want to meet strange species, make new friends, learn new things! I can’t do that here, or at the Academy. I need to do this, Ren. You have to understand.”

Ren shook his head, and Jaune’s face fell.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever understand you,” he began, “but I’m not going to stay on Ventos Beta and let you go out there and probably die.”

Jaune’s excitement began to return. “Wait, really? You want to come with me?”

“Someone has to watch your back,” Ren chuckled. And there’s nothing left for me here, he added silently to himself.

Alright,” Jaune said, already beaming. “I guess this is our ship then?”

Ren allowed a smirk to crawl onto his face. “Yeah. I like the sound of that.”

[mermaid-of-the-valley]

We’re Dynamite

My part of the collaboration with @theeternalspace. Just wanted to post it up separate from the original so it’s a bit easier to find.

Characters: Virgil, Roman, and Remus(Briefly)

Pairing: Prinxiety

Hero and Villain AU based on this prompt. 

The Dazzling Prince, scourge of the city, beauteous lord of all… Probably should have seen this coming.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Roman was racing through the side streets on his motorbike, pursuers hot on his sparkling tail. Honestly, so uncool. You turn a few minor leaguers in for a reduced sentence and suddenly You’re the traitor?! Ridiculous. “It was only a few kilos of coke lost, get over yourselves!” He yelled hysterically.

A bullet ricocheted off the wall beside him. “Okay, we’re doing this.” Autopilot engaged, he flipped around to face his assailants. “So, no one told you life was gonna be this waaay!~ ” Clap, clap, clap, clap. The lane exploded in light waves timed to his performance. The one closest to him had his front tire sheered in half and from there it was a tumble into his two cohorts.

“Woops, that’s going to leave some road rash!” Roman threw his head back, laughing wildly. “Better luck next time, sweethearts!” He twisted back around. Autopilot disengaged, he gave a sharp turn down an alley, jumped the cycle over a car and swiveled deeper into the labyrinth.

All things considered, a quiet night. He sighed. “Siri, text my shadow knight. ‘Hey, Angel. I’m about to knock off a jewelry store for an engagement ring. What cut did you want again?’ Send.”

The ‘message sent’ text bounced with every bump in the road and Roman spent a little too long staring at the screen. He might not have glanced up at all, confident in his bike’s artificial intelligence covering for his gay dumbassery, but then he heard it.

“We’re no strangers to love, you know the rules and so do I!”

Roman screeched to a halt just outside his territory. The music skipped a beat, getting louder.

“A full commitment’s what I’m thinking of, you wouldn’t get this from any other guy!” Left? Right? Where the heck was that stupid song coming from? He rolled out onto the road.

“I just want to tell you how I’m feelin’, gotta make you understand!”

And then he was hit with a truck.

——————————————————————————————

He came to in the vehicle’s flatbed. Almost certainly concussed and his nose bruised if not broken. Well, that would take a bit to heal. Roman pried open his eyes to take in the fishy smelling, green splattered warehouse.

“Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you! Never gonna let you die, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell you why, just hurt you!~ ”

Aw f*ck, it was Remus.

“Hey, Bro-bro! You look like shit!” His greasy face hovered over Roman’s.

The prince groaned. “Well, it feels like I was hit with a monster truck, you freaking lunatic.”

“Oh, that was just to throw you off balance! I knew you’d be fine! Want to see the tape? I caught the whole thing on the dashcam!” He yanked Roman from the flatbed by a fistful of his uniform. Roman barely managing to catch himself.

Remus cackled. “It was great! Just BANG! Right over the hood! You looked like a deer!”

“Dare I ask what you did with Maggie?”

“She’s a little banged up. The boys took her back to the shop to get better.” His grin was a little too wide.

“If you touch her A.I. again I’ll strangle you.”

“Kinky.” Remus pushed him into a folding chair. It wobbled dangerously backwards before jerking forward once again, Remus’ hands on either side of the seat. “Not that it’s surprising considering your little tryst with the mutant pigeon.”

Roman squinted. “You’re misreading the situation. It’s a heartwarming story of enemies to lovers! … With a little tequila for flavor.”

“So, you’re telling me you haven’t fluffed those wings?” He wiggled his eyebrows, but the smile was strained. “Faced assault with a friendly weapon? Done the devil’s dance?” His voice was rising in irritation. “Gone out on the town covered in feathers?!” He shook his brother’s form.

Roman brought up a foot and kicked him off. “Take several steps off, Remus!” He snapped, and then winced at his own high pitch. “Have a little class!” He rubbed at his eyes before looking up to catch his twin making lewd gestures.

“Getting whipped by a parakeet! That’s what you are! Come on, Roman, we never hang out anymore! When was the last time we set fire to a dairy farm or unscrewed the color covers on a traffic light?”

“We never did those things.”

“Oh right, that was a dream I had last week.” He tugged an eyebrow. “But we could still do it!”

“I already have plans for this evening, Remus. The first of which now requires stealing nanobots capable of repairing internal contusions!”

Remus pouted. “Oh, poo.” He tapped a finger against his side and something clicked open on his hip.

Roman pushed himself up, more than aware of Remus’ hallucinogenic proclivities and not at all keen to experience them. “You’ll get over it, you rancid swordfish. We have literal decades to do… whatever demented chores your mind conjures up!” He stumbled backwards towards the door with as convincing a smile as he could manage. “Surely one more night won’t kill you!”

“Might kill you though.” Remus muttered.

“What?”

“What?”

“…I’ll see you next weekend.” He’d just gotten the door unlocked, when he was darted in the back. “Ow! Mother of Hell, Remus!” He wrenched the needle out and stared down at what little yellow liquid was left in the vial. Wait, yellow? “Shit.”

Remus wasn’t so much grinning as he was cracking his face in half. “DeeDee said you might not be too keen on hanging out, so he offered a compromise.”

And now there were two of him, that wasn’t right. “Don’ think that means what you think it does…”

“You’ll get over it, right? Literal decades to do whatever chores I come up with?”

Echoing. Not good. Getting dizzy. Exit plan Alpha. “Remus,” Roman’s smirk was just his side of warped. “Why ya gotta be so Ruuude?~”

—————————————————————–

Virgil would like to be able to tell his friends and family that he got a good night’s sleep and was just shocked awake by a repetitive knocking on his wall. Unfortunately, he’d been awake and watching “Serial Killer Files” online when, what he eventually thought was, a large bird rammed into his window and rolled down his roof.

His first thought for the culprit was Mothman. In his defense, he hadn’t slept in over 18 hours and had a higher than healthy amount of Monster in his system.

Nevertheless, something big was on his lawn now and his heroic instincts demanded he try to help… or at the very least move it somewhere it could die with dignity.

However, he very nearly changed his mind when he saw who it was. The dastardly prince had somehow found his home and was sprawled over his porch step. His face was pinched with pain and that was hardly the last of it. Virgil glanced to his neighbors on either side, thankfully unaware of the crash.

Princey groaned and against his worse judgement, the Seraph pulled his enemy into the house. “This better be a real emergency.” He turned the man on his side in the entryway and closed the door. “Okay, no commentary or I use peroxide.” He muttered to the half-aware villain.

He didn’t see the easy nod when he stood and ran to the kitchen. The supplies in his home weren’t as good as headquarters, but they’d do for the time being.

He paused, what was the protocol for this? A known threat to the city had found his house. How did he find his house? Virgil was never drunk enough to let that slip, he made sure of it! “Ugh, the minute he’s not bleeding on the carpet…” He compromised with himself, already kneeling next to the Prince again.

“Any trips or traps I should know about?” He asked, turning his charge gingerly onto his back.

A shake of the head. “You must be in bad shape if you’re not talking.” Virgil carefully slipped off the layers of padded cloth, laying a blanket over his patient’s lower half for modesty. Most of it seemed superficial, though he did have a disconcertingly dark bruise on his side and abrasions lining his legs. Virgil set to work.

“Are you…? Well, obviously, you’re not okay, but-” Nothing but steady breathing and staring. Virgil stilled. “Okay, I know what I said before, but you’re freaking me out. Talk to me. Are you in pain?”

“Hurts a little bit.” Virgil sighed in relief at hearing his voice. “Dizzy.”

“What happened to you?”

“Hit by a truck.”

…Unexpected. “Your bike didn’t see that one coming?”

“Maggie was off.” The prince raised a hand and flapped it slowly back and forth, bizarrely fixated on it.

“You named it-? Ugh, why am I even asking?” Virgil pasted down the last bit of gauze.

“Cause you’re curious.” His floaty hand tapped the one Virgil was still using to hold pressure.

“Can you tell me who did this?” Virgil questioned, unfortunately used to the man’s weird, touchy nature.

“The Duke.” He grumbled, eyes firmly on their hands.

Virgil was confused, the name seemed familiar, but he was usually fighting Princey and Logan’s patrols ran deeper underground than his. “Who’s that?” The man’s teeth clacked with how fast he closed his mouth, lips pulling down into a tight line. “Don’t be difficult now. Otherwise I can’t help.”

“M’brother.”

Now Virgil was confused and very freaked out. He blinked hard, trying to process all of the things wrong with what he just heard. “Are you concussed or something?”

“Nooooo.” He whined. “’M drugged, you silly birb.”

“That’s better?” Virgil hooked his arms around the villain and started to heft him upstairs.

The prince rubbed his arm thoughtfully. “Maybe.” He squinted at his rescuer. “Where’s your feathers?”

Virgil only just realized how dressed down he was compared to their typical interactions. “They’re not always visible, I have to live some kind normal life, right?”

“No, you don’t.” It was a surprisingly serious statement for how he had been acting. But Virgil had heard similar comments from him before, usually followed by rhetoric on power and the freedom it offered. A lot of times it was hard to tell what was just repeated and what was true to the Prince.

“Table that discussion for when you’re not loopy.” He stepped into the guest room at the top of the steps and lay the man on the bed. “Was your brother the one who made the drug?”

“No. His friend.” Virgil waited for any other information, but none was volunteered.

Then he had a thought. “What’s your name?”

His foe smiled in the same dreamy fashion. “Dazzling Prince.”

“Tell me your real name.”

His face pinched again, but Virgil’s suspicions were confirmed when he let slip: “Roman.”

“I think whatever you were dosed with makes you susceptible to suggestion.”

Roman kept up the mopey expression, eyes now slightly clouded. “Guess so.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to accidentally make you move and agitate your injuries, but by the time I thought to ask a question that was the only one I could think of and it felt like the silence was getting awkward, so it just kind of fell out, and by that point it was too late to back pedal.” Virgil rambled out in one breath.

And with that Roman huffed what might have been a laugh under better circumstances. “Guess that’s fine then. Needed a reason to go full supervillain anyway. Might as well make it a petty one.”

“What? No! Don’t do-” Virgil cut himself off, remembering the predicament they were both in. He looked away, glaring at the floor. Roman rubbed his arm with a sloppy smirk.

“You’re too good.”

“For you? Obviously.”

“In general. You’re soft on a lot of crooks.” He leaned back into the bed, eyes drooping. “I’ve noticed how you act to the cops when you hand us over, Softy Seraph.”

“Few crimes are committed by hardened criminals. A lot of them just need help.” After all, where would he be without Patton?

“Sounds fake, but go off I guess.” He mumbled.

The hero sat at the edge of the bed. “You’re making it hard not to throw you out.”

Roman closed his eyes, seemingly content to let Virgil have the final say.

At least that’s what he thought before a foot prodded his back, almost exactly where his wings were painted. Virgil turned to tell him off when he heard the humming.

And saw the room sparkling. Little balls of light, opaque and floating, spawned around his room in time with specific notes in the song. Roman directing their appearance without looking, extending a pinky one direction and then his index finger another. They would follow his lines, streaking like stars and for once, completely harmless in action.

He took a breath. “Cherry lips, crystal skies. I could show you incredible things. Stolen kisses, pretty lies. You’re the queen, baby, I’m your king. Find out what you want, be that boy for a month, wait the worst is yet to come.~”

Virgil grimaced. “Oh, no.”

Roman grinned at the commentary, but didn’t stop. “Screaming, crying, perfect storms. I can make all the tables turn. Rose garden filled with thorns, keep you second-guessing like: “Oh my God, who is he?” I get drunk on jealousy, but I’ll come back each time I leave. ‘Cause darling you’re a nightmare dressed like a daydream.~”

“I’ll smother you with a pillow.”

“Doubt it. I’ve got a blank space, baby. And I’ll write your name.~” He slid in, quieter than before. His eyelids cracked opened the barest bit, hands still outstretched to maintain the glowing orbs. “You’re really pretty when you multiply by the way.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “How many of me do you actually see?”

“Three.” He dropped his arms and the lights dimmed away, leaving spots in the hero’s vision where they were. “Four, if you count the outline.”

“Outline?”

Roman gestured at him vaguely. “The sparkles hiding your wings, they make up your shape.”

“What are you talking about?” Virgil sputtered, resisting the urge to glance around at whatever figment Roman’s mind conjured. “Can you actually see my wings?” Had he always seen them? “Answer me.”

Roman blinked a few times, getting drowsy. He hummed noncommittedly.  That floaty feeling was coming back threefold without the adrenaline, and every other word started to reverb. There was a snap near his face.

“Hey, focus, Princey.”

It was like falling asleep when you’d been trying to stay up on spite and caffeine. Something pressing down and disconnecting him from reality. It wasn’t awful, almost the opposite in fact, but he wasn’t super excited about what it took to get there. Fighting was easier without orders, but Seraph seemed slow on that uptake.

Roman locked eyes with Virgil, completely under his sway and only distantly aware of it. Virgil sighed in agitation. Just looking at the prince proved he’d screwed up again. His pupils were totally blown and unfocused. He tugged his hair in frustration. “Dammit, why do you always do this to me?!”

He curled over the edge of the bed, trying to regain a sense of calm. Stupid energy drinks. Virgil was totally out of depth with this one. The villain beside him was slowly sinking into the sheets and Virgil found himself questioning how regularly he got the chance to sleep.

Resigning himself to postponing his planned night of horror for a different one, Virgil carefully maneuvered the man under the comforter and then left to change into pajamas. He couldn’t exactly leave the man unsupervised in his house anyway.

He found himself humming a half-remembered tune as he brushed his teeth, keeping an ear trained on the room. Almost unthinkingly, he laid out an unopened toothbrush and paste.

“…Break all the rules, slippin’, runnin’ hot, baby ‘cause we’re dynamite. Gonna let the world…”

Walking in again he saw Roman had slid himself lower into the bedding, nose barely visible and hair tossed across the pillow. Virgil propped himself against the headboard, on top of the comforter, but a quilt tucked around his legs. He closed his eyes, resting, not sleeping. Not with the Prince next to him.

Roman’s breaths rumbled slow and deep in his chest. It was so weirdly rhythmic, Virgil had to wonder if it was a side effect of his powers. “You could do more you know.” He whispered to the room. Not for the first time, the idea of simply telling his enemy to give up his criminal ways while he was primed crossed his mind.

Instead, he took a heavy breath, crossed his arms and hunched over in a light doze.

Downstairs, Virgil’s hero-line phone buzzed with a delayed text from the man he saved.

[bigherosixfeels]

City of Monsters Part I REVIEW

Have you ever screamed into a pillow so much that the muscles in your neck got sore? Because I have.

Liv is back and being her usual, manipulative self towards Karmi. Turns out, the real Liv has been infected with "parasythns" and has Karmi trying to figure out a way to stop them from destroying their host. Karmi figures out that the only way to do so is to drive the parasites away from each other, but her idea involves robotics which is not something she's a genius in.

Meanwhile, the nerd gang is starting to get very protective of Hiro. Due to being captured multiple times, they worry that if he's correct about Liv, he'll get kidnapped again. Hiro insists he doesn't need to be protected, but to help ease his friends' worries, he gives them all some amazing upgrades to their ultra armor gear! Wasabi gets a plasma shield and dagger, Gogo gets a hover disc, Honey Lemon gets chem-boots and Fred gets headlights and hearing equipment! Of course, Hiro makes upgrades for Baymax and himself too, but we don't get to see them in action until much later. Baymax now has a new rocket booster and an upgraded version of Overdrive Mode and Hiro uses his mini-magnets to create electric bungee cords!

We get some incredible development between Hiro and Karmi. Karmi is clearly struggling to work on the robotics part of her idea and after learning that Tadashi needed help with the medical input for Baymax, Hiro decides to help her. They're able to work together very well, figuring out a great way to cure the parasythns. Creating nano-microbots and having them in a solution they can survive in, they succeed! They truly do make a great team.

Of course, Liv was less than amused when Karmi was going into a territory that she was unfamiliar with. So, Liv sets out to find a real robotics expert and decides that Wendy Wower would be much more helpful. Mr. Sparkles and the mayoi try to abduct her, taking her to Torii Gate Bridge. They also have to fight against Momakase and a once again mutated Orso Knox. It's an intense battle, but with all their new upgrades, they manage to win the fight and save Wendy!

Back in Liv's office, Momakase reveals to Liv that the leader of Big Hero 6 is Hiro. She tells her that if she separates him from the others, they'll be easy to defeat. Karmi stops by Liv's office and reveals that she got help from Hiro on coming up with a solution for the cure. This obviously doesn't sit well with Liv, but now her true colors have finally shown and she reveals that she'd like to give Karmi an upgrade. Later on, she calls Hiro and is currently hiding at school from Liv. Hiro and Baymax come to her rescue, but Liv and Chris have the Bessie bear monster ready to attack. Unfortunately, the monster takes down Baymax, but Hiro rushes into the lab to get Karmi. We then learn that Karmi did not get away from Sycorax safely. Liv had injected her with a bio-chip and Liv activates it, turning her into a monster. Part 1 ends with a mutated Karmi grabbing Hiro and the nanobots and fleeing out the window.

The first part of CoM was nothing short of spectacular. From excellent character development, to awesome upgrades and the most stress-inducing cliffhanger to date, I was quite literally on the edge of my seat the entire time.

Things I Liked:

I admire Karmi’s willingness to succeed. Even if robotics isn’t her strong suit, she was willing to learn anything she could to help find a cure.

The nerd gang spying on Hiro for the sole purpose of wanting to protect him and make sure they’re there in the event he gets kidnapped again. So sweet!

THE TEAM’S NEW UPGRADES THEY’RE AMAZING!!!!!

Hiro grabbing a stapler as a weapon.

Learning that Tadashi didn’t have the knowledge to create Baymax’s healthcare matrix and needed help.

TADASHI!!!!!

Karmi has a stuffed chicken pox virus

Chris playing with a chew toy is oddly adorable??

FINALLY WE HEAR ABOUT THE MICROBOTS AGAIN

Hiro using his microbots and Karmi using her open house project to come up with the solution? Amazing!

It’s great to see Wendy again!

“I’m not a plant man, I’m a fun guy. No really, I’m technically a fungi.” This is Mr. Sparkles best line in the entire series so far. Hands down.

I LOVE SEEING HIRO AND KARMI WORKING TOGETHER!!!!

Karmi telling Hiro that she admired Tadashi AAAAAAAAA

Momakase and Knox are back!

I love all the upgrades, but the reveal for Hiro’s was so unexpected and I loved it!

Idk why, but I like that Liv turns the lights off in her office whenever she talks to the villains. That’s so extra.

The second Liv called Karmi’s promotion “an upgrade” WAS THE SECOND I LOST IT

Baymax telling Hiro to “Help Karmi” MY HEART

HIRO BEING REASSURING TO KARMI 

THE MUTANT KARMI THEORY WAS RIGHT

Not what I expected her mutation to look like and it’s terrifying, but it’s cool! I feel awful for her though.

THAT ENDING SHOT AT THE “TO BE CONTINUED” SCREEN OMG

Things I Disliked:

I’m just a little confused by one thing. In Prey Date, Knox is cured, but Liv tells him that she can change him back whenever she wants. Obviously that’s what she did in this episode, but Knox wasn’t trying to hurt anyone before so why now? Has he lost his humanity?

On a scale of 1 to 10...I’d rate City of Monsters Part I a 9.5!

[ty-talks-comics]

Best of Marvel: Week of August 21st, 2019

Best of this Week: Tony Stark: Iron Man #15 (Legacy #615) - Dan Slott, Jim Zub, Juanan Ramirez, Francesco Manna, Edgar Delgado and Joe Caramagna

Tony Stark may not be the man he says he is anymore.

Since the landmark 600th issue of Iron Man, Tony Stark hasn’t been entirely sure that he is actually himself and not just a strange collection of nanobots and machines strung together in the form of the billionaire tech wizard. After the horrible incident surrounding eScape, Tony Stark’s virtual reality world, leads to the deaths of a few people and millions or more in property damage, Tony has to take the stand and address what exactly happened. 

He’s grilled pretty thoroughly on what an AI is and how much was his responsibility vs. how much can be blamed on Controller, the supervillain who hacked into the supposedly secure network and caused all of this damage. Overseeing the hearing is a surprising character from another mechanical superheroes past. Senator Miles Brickman, a character that originally appeared as something of an anti-machine/anti-AI character in the pages of Machine Man’s original series, it livid and irate at Tony Stark. Showing a bit of prejudice in his questioning, he asks has Tony Stark ever made any changes to his body using technology, then follows by asking “Can you prove that you’re not some form of artificial intelligence?”

Tony initially tries to dance around the question, but upon being reminded that he’s under oath, reveals that it is actually quite possible as his body was put back together cell by cell while he was in his coma. This shocks everyone, from Rhodey to Bethany Cabe, his head of security at Stark Unlimited, and even his brother Arno Stark who is watching the hearing from his office at Baintronics, the rival technology company.

AI Tony calls for a recess after a few snarky lines as we cut to Vision and Wonder Man arriving at Avengers mansion, thinking they’ve been called to assist in Tony’s hearing. Immediately some red flags might want to be set off with the characters involved, especially when Jarvis lets them in and soon after betrays them with a large piece of metal embedded in the back of his head with a familiar design. 

Things start to heat up as Brickman produces the Tony Stark AI that was used by Riri Williams while Tony was in a coma and asks does this fully functioning, autonomous copy have legal rights and responsibilities. What makes me so uncomfortable about this scene is that it plays on the fear of the unknown.

Brickman has tried to have Machine Man destroyed in the past and even knowing that Tony Stark has saved the world in the past, he’s not willing to consider that he still has right once it’s admitted that he may not be fully human anymore. In a way it mirrors some of our own discussions as it pertains to AI and whether or not we’ll allow them autonomy once they become advanced enough for it. There’s a whole discussion for sex robots that no one is qute ready for just yet.

The Wasp, Janet van Dyne, flies through a robot protest on her way to meet Tony for lunch and catches him talking to Tony AI. Tony AI agrees to be loaded into the Iron Man suit and they all fly off when suddenly they’re met with a gross amalgamation of Vision and Wonder Man fused together. Ramirez’s art makes him look so horrifying with only half of Wonder Man’s luxurious hair and cracking skin that’s as red as Vision’s. He rushes at Tony in a rage and promises to rip the human and AI halves of him apart, displaying an anger that neither character has ever presented. 

In the middle of their fight, Jarvis appears and zaps Janet, who was knocked out of the fight during the initial rush. He places her in his pocket and leaves thereafter. Tony and WonderVision continue their fight, destroying the robot protestors in the process. Tony realizes that they only way to stop them is to use a localized EMP which will also kill Tony AI. The technological Tony isn’t fazed and just tells Tony to kiss Jan a bunch and feel vaguely bad about it later.

Unfortunately, this leaves Tony in the middle of the carnage. He’s surrounded by broken robots, likely to take the blame for all of it and realizes that Jocasta was right, he only sees everything as data. He breathes a small sigh that he’s still alive and that WonderVision didn’t take Janet… until he can’t find her. We then cut to the surprising return of The Avengers greatest enemy as his new gambit to destroy Tony Stark and spark a new machine age is in full effect.

What I liked most about this issue is that Tony’s mistakes really catch up to him in a bad way. He’s always managed to skate by the skin of his teeth when his machines have gone haywire. While Brickman was being an asshole for the trial, he made a good point in that we don’t quite know if we can trust this Tony. Given what we as the audience know thus far, he’s falling hard. Almost going back to the drink, questioning his own existence, not even having the trust of the brother that’s been by his side since his appearance in the mid 2000s (in this universe).

And that ending, finally seeing the seeds of what’s been sewn for months now starting to take form, is always fun. I had wondered what happened to this character since Infinity Wars (2018) and I can’t wait to see where exactly this story is going to go and what the repercussions of that event will be. I also can’t wait to see how exactly he’ll scar Tony and his extended family now that he’s returned. High recommend!

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

Things were looking up for Otto Octavius. He had found a nice woman and was slowly falling in love, he had mended fences with Anna-Maria in a way. After the events of War of the Realms, he was a respected and loved hero in San Francisco and then it all came crashing down.

Runner Up: The Superior Spider-Man #10 (Legacy #43) - Christos Gage, Mike Hawthorne, Wade von Grawbadger, Jordie Bellaire and Clayton Cowles

After taking the lovely Emma on a swing through the city, The Spider-Man of San Francisco goes on to visit the child he saved all the way back in issue #4 and help his new adoptive parents get custody of him. These small moments of warmness are a far cry from the maniacal nature that we were once accustomed to from Octavius. Bellaire colors most these scenes in a nice, warm orange. Giving us this feeling of joy and some happiness for Otto… at least until he’s discussing having a child with Emma and she alerts him to the news report that asks if the SF Spider-Man is really Otto Octavius. 

Things start to spiral even further as Spider-Man is interviewed and dances around the question and the Brothers Grimm acknowledge that he hired them for some temp work if they went straight, alluding to the first arc of the book. Otto is furious, Anna-Maria gives him snark and Emma tells him that he needs to face things head on, getting in front of it all. He can prove that he’s changed. Unfortunately, Anna-Maria brings up the kid as an example of someone who he’s helped and he swings to the apartment to find the foster parents angry and the child sad that he lied. Normally Otto wouldn't think twice about lying to someone or omitting information, but looking into that child's eyes as he began to cry, Otto reveals that he lied because he wanted the kid to like him and they hug. 

Soon after, Otto is called back to Horizon University where he is known as Professor Tolliver. Max Modell is waiting for him as he's received an email telling him that Tolliver is actually Otto Octavius. Surprisingly to Otto, Max already knew. Max Modell may act like a goof, but he's not considered one of the brightest minds in Marvel for no reason. He ran a DNA test to confirm soon after his emergence and gave "Tolliver" a chance to prove himself a changed man and given that he has, he's been trying to help clear his name. 

With Max's security footage and his own enhanced suit, Otto is able to determine that it was actually Spiders-Man that sent all of the incriminating data to everyone. Once Spiders-Man realizes he's caught, the thousands of spiders that make up his form reconstitute until Ock defeats him and compresses the former Peter Parker's consciousness into one Spider-Body. After some pushing, Spiders-Man reveals that it was Norman Osborn's idea. This Norman Osborn, however, is from another dimension where he's the Spider Totem and his main enemy was a Green Goblin Peter Parker, if I remember right. 

Spiders-Man also tells Otto that Norman is in his own dimension, safe from harm. During the events of Spider-Geddon, the Web of Fate was destroyed, making dimensional travel much harder for Spider people. Octavius hits a wall until Anna-Maria comes out that she's saved a bit of Terrax's energy from the first arc in the Living Brain robot, in case Otto ever reverted. This makes him sink even lower, but ultimately he understands and tries to use the power to make a portal...only Norman planned for this and over loads the machine, causing it to destroy the building almost killing everyone inside if not for Otto. 

Otto manages to save Max and Anna-Maria, but is swiftly defeated and left for dead by Norman who was there the entire time. When Otto asks why Norman is doing this, he responds in the most Norman Osborn way possible by saying, "You insulted me."

Just when Otto Octavius was finding his place in the world as a hero, forces mostly belong his control have made their move in an effort to derail him. Otto finally seems happy, even helping out a young child that he absolutely has no obligation to and starting a budding new relationship with an older woman that's just as smart as he. Things were going well, he even got a key to the city for crying out loud!

But, as fate befalls all Spiders, his terrible actions in the past are coming back to haunt him. Who's to say that Mephisto doesn't have a little bit of a hand in this as well? We can only hope things turn out well for Otto in the end, but not before Norman makes things much, much worse.

[yellowmagicalgirl]

I Love You More Than the Prospect of Using You...

...Even if it means losing you.

Hey guys! I’d like to thank the lovely @chillahead-bridge for letting me write fic from their Sentient Weapons AU. This was written for Day Five of @trollhuntersrarepairweek

Claire opened a portal to the Shadow Realm that swallowed both of her former wielders. Her body shook with the effort of keeping Morgana at bay. Her helmet began to phase in and out of reality as her hair gained and lost length, like she was losing control of her form. She cried out in pain, and as she stretched her hand out to create portals that would free her friends Toby thought he could see golden cracks around her eyes.

"TP? I love you, and make sure to tell Jim I love him when he reforms," she said, and her voice sounded choked up. "You guys have five seconds to destroy me."

"Claire, no!" Blinky called out. When he had learned the truth about Claire and Jim, he had vouched for them and the fact that they deserved to be treated as people. When Morgana began to wield her, Blinky had refused to destroy her. He had protested when Jim had been willing to destroy himself so they could find Merlin's tomb. And now Claire was asking for death.

Claire gave them one last blurry-eyed smile before the air around her darkened. "I don't think I'll be around much longer either way."

Claire's body disappeared and reverted into a staff. A portal opened, and golden chains tried to grab for her. AAARRRGGHH! grabbed onto Claire's helpless form before Morgana could.

Toby grabbed his warhammer and rose into the air. He then began a rapid descent that ended in him destroying the Shadow Staff.

The fall ended in him killing Claire.

Jim didn't hate Toby. It would be easier if he did, because they were a trio and had been practically since the beginning of Jim and Claire's very state of being. There was nothing that had been supposed to be able to tear them apart. And yet, Toby was the biggest reason why Claire had been destroyed. It had been his hammer that had shattered her into too many pieces.

Maybe Jim didn't hate Toby because Toby had been the one to have killed him, but they had been headed to Merlin's tomb and he had fixed the amulet so Jim could come back. No one was going to fix Claire - there weren't really any people with the skill required to restore her given just how badly she had been broken. As Jim pulled back from the goodbye kiss, he handed a bag to Toby and whispered in his ear.

"While you were getting treated at the hospital and the trolls were seeking shelter from the sun, I picked up every last piece of Claire. I think she'll be safer with you than with me. I don't trust Merlin around her."

It made sense. Jim was horrified to learn that Morgana's hand was used to create him, both because of the fact that a part of the evil sorceress was a part of him and also because of exact way he had been created. Toby didn't trust Merlin with Claire, but he didn't want Jim to go with Merlin either. He couldn't be sure that the wizard would see Jim as a person and a miracle instead of a tool like Morgana had with Claire. However, the trolls needed a Trollhunter and Jim was the closest there would be to one for the rest of time, so Toby had to let him go.

"I will," Toby said, because if he couldn't protect one of the people he loved he could protect the remains of the other.

There was a scale for nonhumans passing for humans. Changelings, especially older ones like Strickler and Nomura, were at one end of the spectrum, being highly skilled at pretending to be human. The other end was set by Jim and Claire in the beginning, when they had human forms but they didn't even have human names; they were just Amulet and Shadow Staff. However, they had climbed that scale with some amount of grace. Aja and Krel, who were apparently aliens, fell somewhere in the first quarter of that scale. So did the guy who looked old enough to be their grandpa (but was actually their bodyguard) and their dog as well.

It honestly explained so much.

"We have an old phaser rifle that would be able to get through their armor, if it had a proper power core," Vex explained. Aja was holding a device in one of her four hands and was walking around Toby's, Steve's, and Eli's backpacks. When it started beeping, she pulled out a velvet bag that Toby kept with him because burying Claire didn't feel right and he couldn't exactly cremate her.

"This will work," Aja said, and Toby bolted to grab the bag back from her.

"Claire isn't someone's weapon to wield." She had been so much more than that.

Darci's legs were trapped underneath a large beam, and while Mary and Shannon were trying to lift it up and off of her they clearly weren't strong enough. Aja, Krel, Steve, and Eli tried to get closer to them, but they constantly being attacked by robots. AAARRRGGHH! could have lifted it, but it was a sunny day. All the trolls were safely inside, and the one troll who was immune to daylight was tutoring sophomores.

The bounty hunter advanced towards the girls. None of Toby's weapons could penetrate his armor. Not the Warhammer, which was capable of destroying people whose bodies were weapons. Not the phaser rifle. It didn't have a powerful enough core.

Claire wouldn't have wanted this.

"Steve? Cover me!" Toby called out as he ran to a nearby, somewhat sheltered area despite the other boy's indignant protests.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry about this," Toby said as he took out the broken pieces of Claire from the bag that he kept with him no matter where he went. He then took apart the phaser rifle, took out its old core, and placed shards inside of it. Claire, Claire and Jim were so much more than weapons, but when Toby had broken both of them they were just the pieces of weapons. Unlike Jim, who had been rebuilt by Merlin, Claire had implied that she was never to be rebuilt into the Shadow Staff again. That didn't mean she couldn't be recycled into something new.

Besides, she had died to save the world. Being wielded to save her friends sounded like something Claire would, not quite want, but be more-or-less fine with in the end.

"Hey, ugly! Eat a load of this!" Toby called out towards the bounty hunter, who turned away from the girls to face him.

Toby fired the rebuilt phaser rifle. Rather than a epic blast of light shooting out, there was only a puff of dark smoke.

"Is that the best you can do?" the bounty hunter asked.

The area around them grew darker. The areas of the phaser rifle that were normally glowing blue shifted to purple, and parts of the silvery body changed to black. Toby dropped the weapon in shock. That was a good thing, because it leapt out of his hands, glowing and fading in and out of reality. Out of the corner of his eye Toby saw Eli's jaw drop as the phaser rifle changed into the blurred silhouette of a girl.

The majority of her was the same black-as-shadows color, with brilliant purple eyes and the occasional purple streak flashing within her long, writhing hair. However, she was different now. She wore pauldrons and a chestplate reminiscent of her armor that were similar in color to the phaser rifle's, no. They were similar in color to Claire's casing. In addition, there was a crest and series of spikes running down her spine, in a way that mimicked her armor. Her armor would occasionally reflect purple light, but it too was blurred at the edges. However, she didn't have any finger-armor, because Claire's finger guards were the same type of claws as Morgana's and Claire was not Morgana's.

The bounty hunter backed away, likely unsettled by the writhing hair and fading in and out of reality. It was a common feeling that Toby had gotten used to as he had gotten used to living with two sentient weapons.

Claire raised her arms and brought them down like the conductor wielding a baton at an orchestra. Portals ripped open the bounty hunter's armor and the nanobots; others sliced through the beam to relieve the pressure from Darci's legs.

"No, that isn't the best I can do," Claire said to the bounty hunter's retreating form. She then began to collapse. Toby ran over and caught her.

"Okay, nevermind, that might have been the best," she said, violet eyes darting around and taking in the changed landscape of Arcadia Oaks.

"I thought I'd killed you!" Toby sobbed as he carded his fingers through his hair, which writhed in a less violent manner than before. If anything, it tried to weakly hug him.

"You did, for a bit, and you definitely destroyed the Skathe-Hrün," Claire said. "But I'm not Morgana's Shadow Staff anymore. I'm free now."

[saieras]

I’m proud of you, kid

Summary: On the 1-year anniversary after the Snap, Tony, Pepper, and May deal with their losses and remember who and what they are fighting for.

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Rating: T

Notes: This fic is based on an incredible piece of fan-art I saw the other day, about Tony and Pepper having a baby, and giving him a Spider-Man doll to play with.

Art is by 茗牌耳钉 on Weibo.

EDIT: he/she has Twitter as well!

Also on FF & AO3.

I hope you enjoy the read~

————————————————————

April. The first sneak peek of spring, the first month of slush-free roads. Central Park, turning green.

Tony Stark hovered over the city, his helmet open. The wind was brisk at this height, so he had a little trouble keeping his eyes open, but he wanted to see the colors with his own eyes. It was a lovely Saturday, and millions milled about the streets and avenues below. Madison Square was packed to the brim.

He flew a short distance over to Washington Square Park. It was similarly filled. He was at roughly the same altitude as the Empire State building, so doubtless the throngs pulsing below could see him well and clear. Without the suit's visual feed, Tony couldn't make out the individual faces as they peered up at him.

He imagined they must be cursing him.

Nonetheless, his vantage point afforded Tony a veil of sorts, a barrier vast enough to block out the sounds below. It was peaceful and good — this was his city, and he was her protector, standing high and mighty in the clouds.

… Hiding, low and broken, behind his worthless armor, suffocating under an avalanche of shame.

“Boss,” FRIDAY said, “you're going to be late if you don't start heading — ” 

“I know,” Tony said. He closed his eyes. The nanobots obeyed his thoughts, reforming the helmet over his head, and a second later Tony breathed in the familiar filtered air. It used to make him feel invincible, this clean, sterile smell. Now every breath was a reminder.

“I know,” he said again. He took one last look at the restored Washington Square Arch beneath him. “Let's go.”

————————————————————

It was a nice and quiet place with impressive views of the city's skyline. Not many of the residents were new, so there were relatively few visitors. Tony landed in an out-of-the-way little garden, making sure he wasn't seen. The armor disintegrated and rolled itself back into his chest.

He took a deep breath. It smelled like flowers. Oh, he'd forgotten to bring flowers.

He donned his shades, as if they protected him from the scrutinizing stares as he walked the short distance over. He had only been here once, but he knew the place well — he'd visited, after all, more times than he could count, in BARF and in his dreams.

Three people were already there; a girl, a boy, a woman. The grass beneath his feet rustled to herald his arrival. Tony willed himself to not flinch as they looked up.

“Mr. Stark,” May Parker said. There was not an ounce of surprise in her tone… in fact, there was not an ounce of anything in her tone. Tony wished there was. He wished she would curse, scream, cry, seethe. Anything.

“May —“ he began.

“Please call me Mrs. Parker,” the woman said.

“Right,” Tony muttered. He was a fool. He couldn't do this. He stared up at the blue sky, and wanted nothing more than to materialize the suit and fly away.

“Mr. Stark?” piped a timid voice. Tony looked over to see the boy in the group, a chubby Asian holding a Lego Millennium Falcon, stealing a glance at him. As their gazes met, the boy averted his eyes — bloodshot and rimmed with red, Tony noticed.

All the same, the boy shuffled aside.

“Are you going to… uh, join us?” he asked, voice even smaller than before.

“Ah,” Tony said. He squeezed out a smile. “Yes. Thank you, Ned.”

The boy looked astounded that he'd remembered his name. Tony stepped up a little, and gave a brief nod to the girl now beside him.

“And you must be… Michelle, right?”

Michelle blinked and shrugged. “Mmhmm,” she said, obviously every bit as surprised as Ned, though rather better at feigning nonchalance.

Tony hated how he had to act as if he was asking — as if he wouldn't know the names of the kid's best friends.

As if he didn't know the names of every member of the Midtown Tech Decathlon team.

As if he hadn't memorized the names of every person who bothered to show up to the service. Not that there were many — the kid hadn't exactly been popular in school.

Nothing else was said after that. May Parker had closed her eyes, and Ned was muttering something under his breath, clutching his Lego piece. Michelle was looking over towards Manhattan, her jaws tight.

Tony fought the urge to look up again at the sky. Two point three six billion lightyears away, there was a decaying planet called Titan, in a whole other galaxy still undiscovered by NASA… at least that was what the blue-green android woman had told him.

He clenched his hands into fists. Breathe in, breathe out. He repeated this ten times before finally, with a light jerk of his head, his gaze settled on the stenciled letters.

Peter Benjamin Parker, 2001-2018

A loving nephew, a best friend, and always our hero

Mr. Stark? I don't feel so good…

I don't want to go…

Sorry.

The sound that escaped his throat was something Tony did not expect. Suddenly, all he could see in front of him was dust, and dust, and more dust, blowing on the brown and tattered landscape. It wasn't until he heard Ned's surprised shouts that he noticed the helmet forming around his head.

Tony allowed himself a second of respite inside cocoon of filtered air, where the world could not see him break — where the world only saw the red and gold mask, forever strong.

Then he willed the nanobots to disassemble.

All three of them were staring at him when his skin once again touched the free air. Tony tried to speak, tried to crack a joke — he had to take a call from the company — always at the worst time, am I right?

But then May Parker said, “It's okay. I'm here with you.”

And Tony simply collapsed in front of the headstone, his fingers gliding over the smooth surface, etching out each letter. Behind him, May put her hand on his shoulder, and Tony was glad she was there, glad because she too understood what it felt like to have your soul ground and pulverized until it was a colossal vacuum that could never be filled, not by all the happiness in the universe.

When he screamed, he took what little comfort in knowing she was beside him, walking every step of this hell with him. Her fingers on his shoulder tightened, and for a moment they were linked through that eternal pain; that void of a parent losing a child.

————————————————————

May had brought a plate of her signature walnut date loafs, and a few other new recipes she'd wanted for Peter to try. Ned had brought the Lego, naturally. Michelle had brought a sketchbook. Tony noticed how thin it looked; more than half the pages had been ripped out, and the cover looked splattered. For a moment Tony imagined the skinny girl, sitting alone in her room, the drip-drip-drip of her tears soaking through her sketches.

Tony wished he'd remembered to bring flowers. He wished he'd remembered to bring something. Hastily he downloaded a model of a flower, and ported it to the nano-assembly algorithms. Soon a miniature white rose grew out of the palm of his hand, glinting in its metallic sheen. The display had been enough to captivate Ned, who seemed to have temporarily forgotten his grief.

Looking at the boy's face was like a gut punch. That same wonder, that same curiosity. That same fascination and youthful enthusiasm. Peter made that face often, pretty much whenever Tony allowed him inside the lab or workshop.

What Tony wouldn't give to see that face again, just one more time.

Gently he laid the flower down in front of the headstone, next to the others' gifts. It landed with a small clink.

“Do you have a place to be?” May asked. Her voice seemed hoarse, but somehow softened.

He did. He had other memorial events to attend. He planned to make a visit to Happy's family, as well as Sam's. He had a meeting with Hank Pym and the rest of the Avengers.

He needed to get back to Pepper and their boy.

“No,” he said. “I've got a while.”

“Eat with us,” she said. “We — we were going to Peter's favorite Thai place.”

“That sounds fantastic.”

“I'll tell you where it is, and you can meet us —“

“No. I'll ride with you guys.”

May nodded. She lingered a few seconds more, before bending down and kissing the headstone. Ned gave it a squeeze, hard enough his stubby fingers turned white. Michelle… Michelle didn't do anything. But Tony knew if she touched that stone, she would shatter.

“Are you coming, Mr. Stark?” May asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “Just — give me a minute.”

He waved them ahead. When he was sure they were out of sight, he knelt down and hugged the headstone tight.

“I miss you, kid,” he said. “You know that? I really — really miss you.”

He choked down the lump in his throat.

“I'm so proud of you, Pete,” he whispered, and for this small moment, he allowed himself to crumble.

————————————————————

The Thai food was very good, but Tony was forced to cut their lunch out a bit short. He thanked May, and Ned and Michelle, for allowing him to intrude. It surprised them, and himself too, because that was so very unlike him.

But then May had given him a smile — a small smile, but a genuine one.

“Peter would've wanted you here,” she said simply.

Tony turned and pretended to watch the TV.

“I heard you had a baby,” May remarked when their table fell silent.

“Ah, yes,” Tony mused, not knowing why she changed the topic, but grateful to pivot. “Not my best creation, to be honest — all he can do at the moment is cry and poop and eat. Even Dum-E is a little better in —“

“Thank you,” May said.

Tony paused.

“Yes, the world often does,” he said finally, chuckling awkwardly. “But I've gotta admit, I don't know why you are —“

Tentatively, May squeezed his hands. Tony flinched at the touch, but didn't pull away.

“Tony,” she said. “Thank you.”

She knows, he thought. He hadn't intended her to know. He worried that she might think of it as an affront. He thought maybe she'd think he didn't deserve it; didn't have the right to use that name. But here she was, thanking him.

“Yeah,” he said, not trusting his face. “I guess I have the paparazzi to thank. Honestly, you'd think they have more important things to report on — Anyway, I got to go, there's —“

“Wait!“ May's grip on his hand tightened a little. She rummaged around in her purse before pulling out a tangle of red and blue fabric. “I — I was making — I was making this, and I…“ She trailed off, and just put the thing on the table between them.

It was a spider-man doll. Coarsely made at first glance, but Tony picked out the little scabs on May's fingers, dots of dark red. Suddenly, he recalled Peter mentioning once how she couldn't sew or knit to save her life.

'And other people were like, aren't aunts supposed to sew you stuff? And I'm like, not May!'

'Kid, could we save the topic for when you're not literally being sewn up?'

'It distracts me from the pain, Mr. Stark. Ow. Are you really sure I can't use anesthetics?'

The memory brought a bittersweet smile to Tony's lips. He picked up the small doll.

“Thank you for making this for him,” he said, his voice solemn.

“I meant it as a gift to celebrate him finishing junior year,” May said softly. “But I never seemed to get around to it, and then… last year, when that… I just stopped working on it.”

Tony's mouth felt dry. “So why did you finish it now, after all this time?”

May shrugged.

“Because we're still here,” she said. “Because we're the only ones who remember Peter as spider-man. Because we owe it to him to pass it on.” She paused, before giving Tony a brief smile. “That's why it's not for our Peter.”

Tony frowned. “Our Peter?” but then he got it.

It was for his Peter.

Tony took the doll and lowered his head, so neither May nor the two kids could see his eyes. Then he stood up, and let the suit spread over his skin. He ignored the gasps and cries of surprise from the other customers. He made sure to keep the doll in a safe compartment.

“Thank you,” he said. With the suit, he could be sure his voice didn't sound too-tight. “Thank you, May.”

She smiled again. “Say hello to him for me.”

He nodded, stepped out of the restaurant, and took off.

————————————————————

“What's up, Mr. Stark?” Peter called out as he bounded into the lab. “What are you working on?”

Tony, being Tony, didn't answer. Instead he gave a vague wave of his hand and dumped the current design blueprints onto Peter's Starkphone. Peter was used to this, so he happily hopped onto a Hulkbuster model, and began swiping through the information.

“Woah,” he said, grasping the gist in barely a minute — brilliant, as usual. “You're trying to create a nano-arc reactor with vibranium at its core! That's so cool!“

“Trying is the key word, kid,” Tony said fondly. “Don't think it'll happen in the near future, not unless I can convince Wakanda to share some of its technologies and resources.”

“I'd like to go to Wakanda sometime,” Peter said wistfully.

“You and me both, kid. I even hear they have a Princess your age. Come on, get down from there, Hulkbuster's not something to play on.”

“Hmm,” Peter said, reading further into the file and ignoring Tony's admonishment. “Mr. Stark, do you think the vibranium could work as an alloy or does it have to be pure?”

“We'll have to try to make do with an alloy, otherwise it'll never be feasible. I swear, it's more expensive than that thing from what's-that-film, the one with the blue people —“

“Avatar,” Peter said. “And it was called unobtainium. But they could've come up with a better name, at least!“ the teen plopped down on the Hulkbuster's head, draping himself over the eyes. “Hey FRIDAY, can I get something to drink? I'm so parched.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Parker. Milk or OJ? Or perhaps beer? We have whiskey, too.”

“FRIDAY,” Tony warned.

“Sorry, Boss.”

“OJ, please,” Peter said, too engrossed in the data to notice the banter. Tony smiled and shook his head.

“By the way, kid,” he added. “Tell me when you're finished reading that. I've got a project for ya.”

“Really?” the teen said, looking up — looking down — at Tony, at once bubbling with excitement. “I'm done reading! What's the project ab—“

The boy's voice stopped. Slowly, the lab faded away. Tony stood up from where he had been watching and looked around, somewhat disoriented. A second later he spotted Pepper at the door, arms crossed.

“You have a meeting tonight,” she said.

“Yes,” he said, blinking away the bright lights. “Very astute, Mrs. Stark.”

“You told me you were taking a nap.”

“I woke up.”

“You said you weren't going to use BARF anymore.”

“I wasn't. FRIDAY must have forced it on me.”

“Boss…“

“Leave her out of this,” Pepper snapped. “Tony, you can't keep doing this. Especially not today. You promised.”

“Stark promises aren't worth very much,” Tony said, chuckling. “Runs in the family.”

Pepper strode over and yanked him to her. Then she kissed him.

“Come on; if you aren't going to sleep, and it doesn't appear you are, let's go check on little Mo. He's gonna wake up soon.”

Mr. Stark knew there was no use in arguing with Mrs. Stark at the moment, so he sighed and allowed her to grab his hand. She guided him over to their room, where a high-tech crib stood in the corner, monitoring everything from vitals to blood sugar to the state of the diapers.

Tony peered down at his sleeping son. “Morgan,” he whispered softly. “Morgan. Morgan Peter Stark.”

The full name alone sent him to the edge. Pepper patted his back, as if she could soothe his tensed muscles back down.

“The best Stark there ever was,” she joked. Tony kissed her.

“I met May Parker today,” he said, not wanting to leave the warmth of her lips. “She… she knows of Mo.”

“Well, the entire world knows we had a baby,” Pepper said, smiling.

“No, Pepper.” Tony said. “She knew his name… she knew his middle name.”

“Oh,” Pepper said. Her hands stopped caressing his back. “There must have been a leak. Damn it, they've been digging for the baby's name for months — those press people will never let go once they sniff out a story. Tony, I'm so sorry, I know you didn't want her to know, I'll get someone to check where it got out —“

“She thanked me,” Tony said, cutting her off. “I — I named my son after Pete, without telling her, and she thanked me. Jesus, Pepper, what did I do to deserve to be — I killed him. I killed him, and she thanked me.”

“You didn't kill him,” she said.

“I couldn't — I tried to protect him —“

“Tony…“ Pepper said.

“I put everything I could think of into that suit,” Tony continued. “I tried, Pepper, I thought I was ready — I couldn't —“

“Tony, please —“

Tony turned away from the crib, feeling like he couldn't breathe. “I couldn't,” he croaked out. “I couldn't protect him. I watched him disa—“

“Anthony Stark!“ Pepper shouted. “Stop that right now! You didn't kill him, you hear me? You did not kill him.”

Tony was trembling all over. He knew she would kiss him, so he let the kiss happen. Pepper's fingers dug into his palm.

“Breathe,” she said. “That's it, Tony. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

Gradually Tony was able to gather himself, like grasping the shards of a glass house and putting it back together… piece by painstaking piece. Pepper combed his hair, pressing him to her, whispering encouragements all the while. Finally Tony gave a low chuckle, exhausted.

“Thanks,” he whispered.

“We're always here for you,” she replied. “Mo and I.”

Tony kissed her. He looked down at his sleeping son. “Mo wouldn't be here without him, you know.”

“I know,” Pepper said, resting her head on his shoulder. “I know.”

They stood by the crib for several minutes, just listening to the steady quiet breathing. Tony reached down to nuzzle the baby's rosy cheeks.

It wasn't long before Mo began to stir. Tony withdrew his hand, abashed, but Pepper laughed.

“It's okay,” she said. “He should be waking up around now anyway.” She reached down to tickle the little tummy, and the baby's dark eyes popped open. “Hey Mo!“ Pepper said. “Look who's here? Daddy's here.”

Mo's plump little face beamed at Pepper upon hearing her voice. Then he turned his head towards Tony, and chortled.

“Hey Mo,” Tony said. “Hey.”

We owe it to him to pass it on, May had said.

For our Peter. For my Peter.

Tony closed his eyes, and reached into his coat pocket to pull out the spider-man doll.

“Tony?” Pepper said. “Tony, what's that?”

“May Parker made it,” Tony replied wearily. “She wanted Mo to have it.”

“Wow! That's adorable!“ Pepper took the doll from him, and moved the arms as if she were controlling a marionette. She made the doll wave. “Hi, Mo!“ she said as she peered down at the baby. “I'm spider-man! And I hear you're a very brave boy.”

Mo let out an incoherent noise of interest, and reached up for the doll. Pepper let his tiny hands grab the doll's arm, and Mo's grip tightened instantly, as if making introductions. Pepper laughed and tickled the baby a bit more.

Tony watched them play together. He tried to ingrain the moment in his memory, but all he could think was, I wish you were here, kid.

I wish you were here, Pete.

Once again, credit to the artist ~

[buttersbots]

Welcome to Earth

Word count: 2,837 Rating: K+

deviantART | Archive of Our Own | FanFiction

This is an older one, but I realized the only version I had on tumblr was a link! That won’t do for one of the most important stories in my series.

Here’s my dear Fletcher’s debut 💜💜💜

July 28, 2847 ‒ 02:36:12 As Two’s due date approached, it became harder and harder for her to stay offline. So many of her systems ran to keep her containment chamber cool, to divert extra power to the nanobots, to write the child’s programming and code their behaviors. Sleep mode was difficult to keep, though it was all she wanted, and this night was one of the worst she’d had in weeks. It had taken what felt like hours of tossing and turning to slip out of consciousness at all, leading to thin, restless sleep mode. Not even that was meant to last.

Two woke to a critical system alert. Her visor hardly cleared the start screen before a window popped up, consuming her whole field of vision. Two had to read over it a few times. Her eyeforms swelled to their full size. “Nos,” she uttered. “...Mmm?” “Nos... wake up...” she pushed at his shoulder. He rubbed his hand over his face, lying with his back to her. “What is’t, love?” the words fell out of his half-functional processors. “B-Baby...” Two stammered. Nos-4-a2 gave a soft yawn to bring air through his ventilation systems and shook his head. “Sorry, wha’s that?” Two grabbed his shoulder harder, her fingers trembling. “Baby!” No words were exchanged while Nos processed what she said. After a minute, he turned over to face Two, optic still closed. He put his arm around her and nuzzled his head lightly against her metal. “Sorry, love... doctor said no interfacing til’ six weeks after the baby’s born...” “No, Nos-4-a2, wake up!” Two urged again, wiggling out of his grasp, “I don’t mean you, ‘baby!’ I mean the baby’s ready!” Two had never seen her husband move faster in his life. He sat bolt upright in less than a second, his jaw dropping open. “Now?!” “Yes, now! The program is finished! It’s finished!” “Okay. Okay, I’m going to ‒ I’ll call a car! Do you need anything? Should I get you a cloak? Do you need a power cell?” “No, just call a car!” Nos lept out of bed and flew to the closet, grabbing the first cloak he found. “Quinn!” “Yes, sir?” Nos burst back into the room, trying to fasten the clasp on his inside-out cloak, a wild smile plastered on his face. “Contact a driving service, we need a car to the hospital immediately!” ~~~ July 28, 2847 ‒ 10:54:13 Nos-4-a2 alternated pacing and sitting, twiddling his thumbs, trying to keep himself occupied. “Uncle Nos, don’t you want to sit down? Watching you is making me tired,” Willow sighed. After hours sitting in the waiting room, her game had run out of batteries, leaving her starved for entertainment. “Let him be, Willow,” Wall.E scolded lightly. He had been sitting next to Probe One, watching the news on the silent, subtitled holovision. “...Why can’t I be in there?” Nos muttered. It was killing him, not being able to see his wife at such a time. Their whole corner of the waiting room sighed at the repeated question. “She’s unconscious, being in there would only make your worrying worse and get in the way of the doctors. They’re still repairing her,” One repeated. Nos looked at the double doors that led to the operating rooms, hovering in place. It would be so easy for him to push through those doors and peek into her window... He turned his gaze down and started pacing again. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand waiting. After Two woke him up and they’d rushed to the hospital, the nurse took them to a room where Two was prepared for the operation, connected to machines that monitored her vital system functions. Nos-4-a2 stayed with her through four hours of preparation before being sent out to the waiting room. Two had gone through just about every emotion imaginable while the engineers set everything up. Twinges of pain occasionally shot through her from the deactivating reproductive hardware, but it was only to be expected. The nanobots had started detaching the probeling from her inner workings. Nos did everything he could to support her, though he could hardly handle himself as it was. To distract her, he talked to her about anything that came to mind. He held her hands ‒ though it earned him a few dents ‒ and told her stories when she was too distracted to talk. She knew every story he told, but was happy for any reason to take her mind off her dizzying thoughts. It was six o’clock in the morning when one of the nurses told them it was time to start the operation. Nos stayed long enough to sit with her while the inhibition coding took effect, putting her offline for the operation. Before she went out, he made sure to tell her that the next time they met, they’d be parents. Two was so excited that the nurse had to dial up the inhibition coding. As soon as Two went offline, Nos-4-a2 had to leave her in the hands of Dr. Darickson and his team. When he arrived in the waiting room with frayed nerves, Probe One, Wall.E, and Willow were all there. Seeing his family helped ease his mind, even though he was still on pins and needles. The clock slowly inched toward eleven. The sunlight moved through the window and traveled across the floor torturously slow, leaving striped patterns on the carpet. Nos cast his optics out the window, looking out at the view of Axiom Lake from five stories above the ground. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait before he stormed out of the waiting room to see Two. As soon as he had worked up the nerve to go, everyone’s attention shifted to the opening doors. Dr. Darickson stood on the threshold, the bags under his eyes magnified by his thick glasses. His mousy hair was even more disheveled than usual, and he had dark stains on his sleeves. Nos felt his power core drop out of his frame. Darickson grinned. “It's a boy.” ~~~ July 28, 2847 ‒ 11:06:11 Two couldn’t tell whether she was awake. Wasn’t she supposed to be doing something important? Where was she? It was dark, wherever she was. Something hurt. She couldn’t really tell what, but she felt smaller than before. Energy signals radiated from all around her. Two tried asking Nos what was going on, but he didn’t respond. Where was he? She thought he should have been there, still pestered by the thought that something important was going on. As much as she tried to focus, Two couldn’t get her optical system working. Or maybe something was wrong with it? Could that be what hurt? Everything she could see was grey and black and peppered with pinpricks of color. Her hearing wasn’t any better. It sounded like it looked: unidentifiable somethings dancing right outside her range of perception. Then the light changed. Bright colors flooded in. More sounds came through. Brilliant shades of red, purple and blue approached her with an energy signature that wrapped her in comfort. A gentle pressure surrounded part of her... her hand. Her right hand. A delicate sensation streamed into her through the new contact. She asked Nos to tell her what was happening again. “Shh, I’m here, Eve...” he answered through a distant fog, “You did it. You did it, my amazing little dove, you did it! It’s a boy!” ~~~ Tears brimmed in Nos-4-a2’s optic as he cupped Two’s little hand in his. Even after he told her the news, she didn’t seem to register what was going on. He thought she might be trying to focus on him, but the limits on her processors hadn’t worn off yet. Not that he cared. He was so excited, he kept telling her over and over again, rubbing her fingers between his. He could feel her becoming more aware with every passing minute, dripping with anticipation for when she realized... And there it was. The softest, most blissful smile came over her drowsy features as it dawned on her. “A boy?” she beamed. Nos-4-a2 made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “Yes, my love.” Two choked on a laugh as well, squeezing his hand. When she reached out, he readily leaned down to give her a hug and buried his head against hers. “Have you seen him yet?” she asked in a wavering voice. “No, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” “I can’t wait another moment.” “Oh, come on!” Nos sat up, “If I waited outside for hours, I’m sure you can hold on just a bit longer.” “It’s not fair, how could they keep him away from us?” “I asked the same thing when Darickson told me I could wait with you. They’re just working out the last few bugs.” “Is everything alright?” “Yes, he’s perfectly fine, completely healthy. It’s all just routine maintenance for newborns. You know what Patrick told me?” Two looked at him expectantly. “He said he’s beautiful, Eve. He must look just like you.” Her smile looked like distilled bliss. He felt the waves radiating from her power core swirl around him, and as he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead, he basked in her emotions. He wanted to scoop her into his arms and keep her there forever, the robot who had given him her universe. Now, she’d even given him a family. Words weren’t enough to say how much he loved her right then. Even the dust motes that twirled through the light looked utterly beautiful. Stroking his talons slowly up and down her arm, he told her about how well she’d done and that everyone was there to support her in the waiting room. Nos-4-a2 thought that all the world should have been there for such a historic event. Their child was the first Energy Vampire born with the Earthling artificial reproduction program. Neither could think of anything else. Anticipation bubbled in the air as the new parents awaited the arrival of their son. ~~~ July 28, 2847 ‒ 11:44:28 Two couldn’t rest for two reasons: she was plugged into a charger that fed her a constant stream of energy, and she still hadn’t seen him. Everything else in her body felt tired and worn and thankful for the electricity being provided; even her mind felt like it had been fed through a shredder then messily stuffed back in her head, but there wasn’t anything that could distract her from this. Nos, too, was shimmering with waves of static impatience. He was still holding onto her hand, trying to keep himself occupied by playing with her fingers. It was no secret that the nearly sleepless, stressful night had exhausted him, but there was no way he’d leave to eat yet. Two traced the dents in Nos’s hands. She had never been so scared or excited in her life, though she had been less than prepared for the pain. Apparently, the newer versions of the reproductive hardware had worked that bug out a little better, but she wouldn’t have to worry about that ever again. The reproductive ware had been removed during the operation, just as she and Nos-4-a2 had decided. That would be her first and last time giving birth. Giving birth... that was another concept entirely. After carrying the little ‘bot for around 60 weeks, she could hardly believe it was over. She would never be pregnant again. Now that she’d given birth, she felt just as confused as she did when she first found out she was pregnant. A part of her was waiting to wake up from this strange dream, though she knew it was all real. The door she was staring at was real. The feeling of missing parts inside of her was real. Nos-4-a2 sitting next to her, probably thinking something along the same lines, was real. Never before had Two felt so invested in the present moment. Suddenly, Nos froze, his hands becoming tense around Two’s. He picked up the sound of footsteps coming down the hall just before she did. Two’s energy fluctuated as the footsteps stopped in front of their door, a shadow falling over the frosted glass window. The door opened, revealing a black-haired human nurse holding a blue bundle in her arms. She had a pleasant enough look about her since she’d been up all night. “Congratulations, Eve Two and Nos-4-a2,” she smiled, “He’s in perfect shape.” Nos let go of Two’s hands so that she could use both her arms to receive the bundle of fabric. A soft pulse came from within the blanket that each parent recognized as part of the other. Two couldn’t keep her hand from trembling. It was time... after fourteen months, they were finally going to see their baby. The universe held its breath as she pulled the top of the blanket away from the new robot’s face. “Oh... N-Nos...” her voice caught. She tugged the blanket down more to take him in. The newborn fledgling’s whole shape was not unlike Nos-4-a2’s, besides his head being round instead of flat on the back, and with a rounded chin as well. He didn’t appear to have any neck besides three black cables, one thick and two thin, connecting his body to his head, and instead of purple triangles on his forehead like his father, he had dark blue semi-circles, cutting off at his black visor. There wasn’t a single tooth in his small mouth, and as he yawned, they could see that his tongue wasn’t forked like Nos’s, but round. The rest of the metal on his face was such a pale shade of blue that it was almost white. The exposed section of his shoulders was deep purple, along with his upper arms. His forearms were the same pale blue as his face. The couple noticed with even closer inspection that his hands were like Two’s in having magnetically bound pieces, including a bit for a palm that she didn’t have. The middle section of his torso was pitch black like his visor and completely smooth besides a single silver wire on each side, while even further down, he had two silver rings around his waist where Nos-4-a2 had three gold ones, and a silver upside-down triangle that followed the taper of his lower body. “Congrats again, you two. I’ll let you have some time alone with him, but Dr. Darickson wants me to tell you, Two, that you need to rest. You know what to do if you need anything,” the nurse told them matter-of-factly. “Thank you,” Two nodded as the nurse left the room, quietly closing the door behind her. There was a minute of silence where Nos and Two just kept looking at the baby in the latter’s arms. Slowly, Nos reached around her back, holding her closer to him. “You did it,” he whispered shakily. Two looked over at him to see the most endearing smile on his face, oily tears shining in his optics. “Oh, Nos…” her voice trembled as she leaned her head closer to his and cuddled the baby between them. Nos gave her a little squeeze around the middle in response. “Do you… want to hold him?” she asked softly. He pulled his arm from behind her, putting both out to take the baby. Two handed the sleeping bundle to him, and he held it as if the little robot would shatter at the slightest bump. Their child was very small to Nos, even though he had taken up so much space inside of Two. The tiny fledgling’s head could fit in his father’s palm, and his entire frame from top to bottom wasn’t as long as Nos’s forearm. A single oily tear fell down the Energy Vampire’s cheek. He couldn’t explain what it was about the baby, but just seeing him, feeling his unique, peaceful energy signature made Nos so inexplicably happy. He looked up at Two, overpowered by the need to tell her, “Thank you.” The words were quiet, sincere, and from the very depths of his soul, making Two’s visor sting. She gasped and Nos-4-a2 almost leapt in surprise when the baby emitted a quiet start-up chime. Nos gaped down at the child, cradling him to his chest, staring straight back at the tiny purple eyeforms blinking open in the baby’s visor. It was the most remarkable thing he’d ever seen. Their baby blinked up, focusing on Nos’s optics. “Hey there, little tike,” he whispered, “I’m your daddy!” The baby blinked again and made a face, like hearing his father’s voice was the most incredible thing that had ever happened to him. Next to being born, it probably was. Two experienced a moment of inspiration. She wasn’t sure why, but it felt perfect, like it just fit. She remembered one of the names that they’d picked for a boy. “…Fletcher.” Nos laughed, blinking another tear away. “Welcome to Earth, Fletcher.”