#{DASH COMM}「All The Young Dudes」

[themissilesilo]

TAG DUMP

{BATMAN; IC}「The Hanged Man」

{FRIEZA; IC}「Emperor of the Universe」

{STAR LORD; IC}「Space Cowboy」

{JAX; IC}「Circus Freak」

{ANNIE; IC}「Hells Bells」

{JALTER; IC}「Madame Guillotine」

{BENREY; IC}「Passport Guardian」

{THE KING; IC}「Dinner Warrior」

{OOC}「Behind the Curtain」

{ASK ANSWERED}「A New Challenger」

{ANONYMOUS}「Disposable NPC」

{PROMPTS}「Another Adventure!」

{MEMES}「Passport Inspection」

{DASH COMM}「All The Young Dudes」

{SELF COMM}「What’s For Dinner?」

{VISAGE}「Not My Final Form」

{AESTHETICS}「Playstation Graphics」

{MUSINGS}「In Nanda Parbat」

{HEADCANONS}「Scouter Readings」

{CRACK}「A Bat Credit Card?」

[chibi-pix]

Chibi watches V3D 12

Another night of Voltron: The Third Dimension! Sorry for skipping last night, had an online get together to celebrate a friend's birthday and that was more important than Voltron. Anyway! Without further ado, here we go!

Listening and hearing the ethereal Alfor voice… does he have the same voice actor as Lotor? Does Tim Curry play him, too? Looking it up, I was right! There’s just something about Tim Curry’s voice that makes him easy to pinpoint at time, y’know?

WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA! WHAT THE QUIZNAK!?!?!!? Alfor was telling a tale of how he faced a great foe, this guardian spoke to him, and looking into the eyes of a dragon, he left it in chains. Okay, back in Dracotron, it was was said of ancient magic being used but… Unless there are more dragons left in chains in the universe, could it be probable that ancient stories were wrong and Alfor trapped that dragon mech!? I mean, something about it feels amazingly right.

And there goes Alfor’s memorial. Ouch. Dudes, I get you’re pirates, but seriously, have you any respect for the dead? Oh great, now Haggar’s here. And counting on the Alfor ghost. Now that’s a witch with no respect for the dead. “Just think of me as your friendly ghostbuster.” I love the reference. But Haggar? Friendly you are not. And now I’m worried because this episode is called “Dark Heart”. Initially I thought she’d corrupt the others, but… she’s striking Alfor. Oh boy… “Your father once stole my heart.” Wait… what?! Haggar, did you once have a thing for Alfor?

“You were so dashing when you were young, Alfor.” Oh yeah. She definitely had a thing for Alfor. That’s something I didn’t expect. Oh…. She’s gonna put Alfor in a robeast. Hoo boy. Though. Haggar having her own memorial for Alfor. Lady? You are hung up on this man.

Oh hey! The lion claw returns! It’s nice to see it appear again. Makes it a bit more important and not just a plot device for one episode.

“Now me? I always follow orders.” Lance’s sassy tone. I love it.

Oh snap! Young Haggar!? Holy crow! I mean… She looks so nice! OH SHIT! She ended up being with Zarkon?! OH SHIT! Does that mean it’s possible in this version she’s Lotor’s mother?! Is this where VLD got the idea of Haggar (Honerva) being with Zarkon!?!?!?! But. I’mma be honest. I kinda like how young Haggar looks in this show more than she did when shown in Fleet of Doom.

Have you ever been so corrupted and pissed that you took one lion and smacked them with another lion? Robeast-Alfor apparently has. And. There’s something actually funny about that.

Almost fifteen minutes in and I wonder if they’re gonna use the lion claw to help cleanse Alfor’s heart and get him out of that robeast.

Oh hey, guardian voice. History repeats itself. HAH! I love Allura just shutting off her comms to ignore Keith. Oh hey, love and a gemstone from Alfor’s monument helped. I was wrong about the lion claw.

Oh snap, Voltron can take off their wings to create a sort of boomerang. Wowza.

I almost felt sorry for Haggar but… her vendetta against Arus because of the past making her so bitter…. Oh well. Also, Allura in a dress. That’s new. I kinda wish they’d let us have the others in other outfits, too.

Watching this show, I will be honest. Some things are just… off. But some of the space aesthetics? Beautiful. I just love space backgrounds. And the purple in this episode? Right up my alley!

Anyway, that's all for the night. Until next time!

[jxsatlas]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐍 ⇢ keith kogane, ch. 1

keith kogane x gn! reader – next

DISCLAIMER! this story does not originally belong to me, the author is @MaddieWolf37 on Wattpad. i have simply received permission to rewrite and continue her story. go and check out her profile for the original version!

SYNOPSIS! a story in which you are thrown into the middle of an intergalactic space war and have the undesirable weight of being a symbol of peace dropped on your shoulders. but maybe if you look past the constant danger and endless fighting, there's some good to being a paladin of voltron.

MATURE CONTENT! swearing, violence, gore, war, graphic descriptions, mentions of self-harm

"Galaxy Garrison flight log 5-11-14," Lance announces, "Begin descent to Kerberos for a rescue mission."

He shoves the yoke forward and the aircraft takes a steep dive. You plant your feet to help fight against the inertia. You give him a sharp glare as the aircraft steadies out.

"Ugh, Lance, can you keep this thing straight?" Hunk whines from the back.

You look over your shoulder and recognise the nauseated expression on his face all too well. Last semester, there was a girl on your team that didn't do too well with excessive motion and often got sick.

Lance brushes him off. "Relax Hunk, I'm just getting a feel for the stick," he says with a lazy grin, which quickly turns mischievous. "It's not like I did this, or this!" Lance jerks the aircraft side to side, making Hunk feel worse.

"Knock it off, Lance," you warn from your chair next to him. You reach up above you and press a few buttons in hopes of stabilising the aircraft out after Lance's little joke.

"Yeah, listen to [y/n] unless you wanna wipe beef stroganoff out of all the little nooks and crannies of this thing," Hunk groans angrily.

"We've picked up a distress signal!" Pidge says from his seat in the back.

"Alright, time to quit our bickering and get serious," you say, doing your own little thing to accommodate for the lower altitude while Lance flies the aircraft.

"Pidge, track the coordinates," Lance says with a roll of his eyes at your comment.

Pidge does so, typing away on the computer. The aircraft gives a large rumble and Hunk groans again.

"Knock it off, Lance! Please!" he whines, his face all scrunched up in discomfort.

"Oh, that's on you buddy," Lance says sharply. "We got a hydraulic stabiliser out."

Hunk nods and goes to fix it, but when the aircraft shakes again he gags. "Oh no."

"Oh no, fix now, puke later," Lance growls.

So much bickering... you think to yourself with a sigh.

"I lost contact!" Pidge says. "The shaking is interfering with our sensors."

Lance looks over his shoulder at Hunk. "Come on, dude!"

"Sorry, it's not responding," Hunk says and unfastens his safety belt. He carefully gets up and makes his way over to the gearbox to see what's up.

"Coordinates are back," you say, seeing the blue dot on the dash.

"Nevermind Hunk," Lance says.

"No, he still needs to fix it," you say. "We can't properly fly this thing if a hydraulic stabiliser is out."

"Whatever," Lance rolls his eyes, "Preparing for approach on visual."

"I don't think that's advisable, given our current mechanical..." Pidge warns, trailing off when he hears Hunk gag again. "...and gastrointestinal issues..."

"Agreed!" Hunk says, not before quickly emptying his stomach into the gearbox with the unsavoury sounds of food chunks and liquid hitting the metal. You cringe, not liking the sound, and hope he's okay.

"Stop worrying," Lance says dismissively.

"No, they're right," you say firmly as you place your attention on Lance now. "We should wait before we do anything."

"Nah, this baby can take it! Can't ya champ?" Lance coos and pats the dash. The aircraft rumbles again and he retracts his hand with a sheepish look. "See? She was nodding!"

"That wasn't nodding Lance," you deadpan. "Now listen to us and wait."

"I'm the one flying this thing, aren't I?" Lance asks. "So I'm in charge, and that means what I say goes!"

"Excuse you, we're both flying this thing," you argue.

Ignoring you, Lance turns to Pidge. "Pidge, hail down on them and let them know their ride is here," he says.

Knowing that you're now doomed, you keep your mouth shut and wait for the inevitable failure of the simulation. You can already see it, the big, bold, red letters appearing on the dash.

And when Lance flies towards an overhang, tilting the plane as much as he can in a sad attempt to thread through the little hole rather than going over or around, you know this is where you fail.

Lance doesn't make it. The wing gets torn off, the alarms blare, and the aircraft pummels to the ground. The dash goes black and those red letters you were anticipating appear without hesitation.

Simulation Failed.

The first failure on your school record.

You toss your head back and sharply exhale, frustration building up in you. "Nice going," you grumble and look at Lance through the corner of your eye.

He catches your gaze and glares at you. "Oh, shut up," he growls.

The four of you sit in silence for a second, you and Lance glaring at each other, before an instructor opens the door and beckons you to come out.

Reluctantly, you all unfasten your safety belts and crawl out of the aircraft. You then mentally prepare yourselves for the lecture about how you are all failures to come.

You, Lance, Hunk, and Pidge line up before the Commander, avoiding his scowling gaze.

"Let's see if we can't use this complete failure as a lesson for the rest of you," Commander Iverson's voice booms angrily. He's not at all impressed with your behaviour. "Can anyone point out the mistakes these so-called cadets made during the simulator?"

"The engineer puked in the main gearbox!" a boy from the back of the group of students shouts out. Iverson nods and turns to Hunk.

"Yes. Everyone knows vomit is not an approved lubricant for engine systems," Iverson sharply criticises Hunk. He turns back to the students. "What else?"

"The comms-spec removed his safety harness," a girl points out.

"The pilot crashed!" another shouts.

Iverson nods, approving of all the answers given. "And worst of all, the whole jump they're arguing with each other," he growls and turns to the four of you once more.

You keep your gaze on the ground shamefully.

"The Galaxy Garrison exists to turn young cadets like you into the next generation of elite astro-explorers," Iverson lectures. His hands are on his hips as he looks down at you. "But these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what caused the lives of the men on the Kerberos Mission."

In your peripherals, you notice Pidge clench his fists at his sides and scrunch his nose up in anger. You fully turn your head to him when he takes a bold step towards the Commander.

"That's not true, sir!" he barks.

Iverson looks at him and glares. "What was that, young man?" he growls.

Lance quickly slaps a hand over Pidge's mouth and pulls him back in line. "Sorry, sir! He must've hit his head when he fell!" he says, smiling sheepishly in a sad attempt to cover up his fear. His hand gets tighter over Pidge's mouth, almost as if he's asking the ginger what the hell is wrong with him.

With Lance speaking up, Iverson's attention is now pinpointed on him. He takes a few steps closer to Lance, his intimidating figure making your brother cower back a bit.

"I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're here," he growls, his tone of voice menacing and powerful, "is because the best pilot in your class had a disciplinary issue and flunked out."

Lance drops his gaze down to the floor, a look of dejection taking over his face.

"Don't follow in his footsteps," Iverson warns. He stares Lance down a bit before abruptly turning to you. "And you!" he barks.

Your entire body freezes up and your eyes wearily follow him as he stops in front of you now. Your heart sinks down to your gut.

"I expected better of you."

﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋

You returned to your dorm at the end of the day with a cloud over your head.

You grumble about the day's events as you aggressively tug your shirt over your head. You really wish you could pinpoint the source of your frustration. Are you mad at my brother? Your team? Or yourself?

You toss your clothes on the floor and pull out some track shorts and a hoodie from your dresser. Getting dressed in your pajamas for the rest of the night, you try to sort out your emotions.

"Stop mumbling to yourself," your roommate says from her bed.

You turn to her. "Ah, sorry," you say. "I didn't realise I was talking out loud..."

"If you're that mad at your brother why don't you just punch him?" she asks. You blink, surprised she actually heard you.

"I'm not violent like you," you say with a sigh. "Besides, I don't even know if I'm mad at him specifically."

"Eh, I would punch him either way," your roommate shrugs. "It's a good way to alleviate your stress."

You roll your eyes. "I alleviate my stress by sleeping."

Your roommate laughs. "Ain't that the truth?" she jests. "How many times have you taken a nap between classes this week?"

You stare at her with a blank expression for a moment before picking your clothes up and off of the ground. "I'm not answering that," you say and toss them into the hamper.

You and your roommate pause when there's a knock on the door. You look at her and she looks at you.

She raises her hands up. "And I'm not answering that," she says.

You roll your eyes and grab one of the dirty articles of clothing you tossed into the hamper and throw at her without any remorse. She yelps in fear and disgust as you walk to the door with a smirk on your face.

"Don't throw your nasty underwear at me!" she barks and she pinches the panties between her thumb and index finger, tossing them as far away from her as possible.

You cackle and open the door. Your laughter cuts short when you're suddenly face to face with your brother. Hunk stands behind him.

"What are you doing in the girls' dorm?" you ask, but then take the opportunity you just created for yourself to tease your dear elder brother. You think of it as a bit of revenge for crashing the simulator. "Visiting someone?"

Lance rolls his eyes. "Heh, I wish," he sighs. "But no. We're thinking about hitting the town tonight! You know, for some team bonding?"

"Who is it?" your roommate calls to you.

"Lance and Hunk," you say over your shoulder at her.

"Punch him!" she shouts back.

"No!" you hiss and turn back to your brother.

"I don't like your roommate," Lance comments under his breath.

"Neither do I," you joke.

"I heard that!" your roommate barks.

"No you didn't!" you ready. But getting the feeling that she's going to keep interrupting, you push Lance out of your way and step into the hall with him and Hunk. You then close the door and give the boys your full attention.

"So, you're gonna come with us?" Lance asks.

"I don't know," you say with uncertainty in your tone. You cross your arms. "It's past curfew and I don't really think you have off-campus privileges..."

"That doesn't matter," Lance waves his hand dismissively. "Iverson wants us to bond as a team, so why don't we listen to him for once?"

"I'm not feeling that adventurous," you say.

"What? Why not? It'll be fun!" Lance cajoles.

"Lance, your idea of fun always ends up with you and me in the principal's office," Hunk reminds. "Don't drag your little sibling into it."

"Hunk has a point," you say. "I don't want to get in trouble again. I had my filling for today."

"Since when were you a goodie-two-shoes?" Lance asks in a somewhat offended tone.

"Since I got a scholarship here?" you quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sibling?" Lance says as he gives you a look of utter betrayal, as if you were some alien.

You roll your eyes. "I'm not too keen on losing something like that because I went along with your dumb shenanigans," you sigh.

"Please, the max punishment for something like this is just a weekend detention with old man Brechin," Lance says and a mischievous grin spreads on his face. "That is, if you get caught."

You bite your lip, looking away in thought. Team bonding sounds very appealing after what happened today, but are you willing to risk your scholarship? You don't know if you can lose it because of a simple detention. The Galaxy Garrison is a government program, which means they are pretty strict.

"Do you really need to think about it?" Lance asks with raised eyebrows. "Don't tell me you're scared!"

His words irk you immensely.

You snap your gaze up to him. Is he serious? You aren't scared. Why would you be scared of sneaking out?

You silently walk back into your dorm and quickly throw a bra on, some socks, and your shoes.

"Where are you going?" your roommate asks as she watches you scramble about the room with a sense of purpose all of a sudden.

"Team bonding," you say, now tying the laces of your shoes.

"This late? Are you sure?" she asks.

"All common sense in me left the moment Lance basically called me a scaredy-cat," you say bluntly.

"Well, have fun," your roommate says.

You give her a small salute as you walk out of the dorm. "I'll be back by morning."

"Alright, see ya!"

You close the door and turn to Lance and Hunk expectantly. "Well?"

Lance gives you a cocky grin, proud of his persuasion skills. You suddenly consider your roommate's suggestion for a second.

"We need to go grab Pidge," Lance says. "It won't be team bonding if someone's missing. You gotta have everybody."

You shrug, doubting Pidge will join.

Lance takes the liberty of leading the way to the boys' dorm, you and Hunk following closely behind. You expertly dodge the officers patrolling the halls making sure students are in their dorms like ninjas on a stealth mission.

As Lance rounds a corner, he suddenly stops and back peddles quickly. He peeks around the corner and watches whatever is on the other side. Curious, you and Hunk sneak up close to Lance and peek as well.

Pidge steps out of his room, a backpack swung over his shoulders. He checks his surroundings before closing the door and running off.

You, Lance, and Hunk share a look. You all then telepathically agree to follow the small boy. Once again, Lance takes the lead.

[generallynerdy]

I wonder if he can taste the sadness (Ahsoka Tano & Anakin Skywalker & Rex)

Summary: Ahsoka motions for the younglings to stay behind what little cover she was able to provide as the door wheezes open. She pokes her head out just enough to see and— “Master!” she cries, leaping up. Anakin is at the door, his lightsaber in his hand but unlit. He looks mildly surprised to see her, but takes her hug without hesitation. “Thank the Force,” she breathes out. “We heard blasters and then Master Nu told us to hide. What’s happening?” In her embrace, Anakin is unmoved. She frowns, looking up at him. “Master?”

Warnings: major character death, lightsaber wounds, lots of children die but only one is shown, canon genocide, canon divergence but only to make it sadder Word Count: 1,826

Prompt: Angstpril Day 4 - Betrayal

Author’s Note: WOWWW why do I do this to myself lmfao. I was like ‘oh hey what if Ahsoka was in the Temple during Order 66 would that suck or what’ and then I. Wrote it. For some reason. I’m sick and twisted. Also, not to make you sadder or anything, but can you imagine Obi-Wan finding her body? Shit dude. Anyway, you might think Anakin wouldn’t go to the dark side if the whole Ahsoka thing hadn’t happened, but, like...he already murdered a village of Tuskens before the Clone Wars. I do not doubt that it would’ve happened somehow. I know this is super late but I wanna get all my Angstpril stuff written down no matter how late it is or else I’m gonna feel terrible about it. Title is from My Mother, My Mother by Luther Hughes. (Also, Jinnel, the Kiffar, and her future Master are my ocs. Zett is a canon character but he has barely any appearances so, uh, dibs.)

Read on AO3

*

“Master Nu! I was just looking for you in the archives.”

Ahsoka bears a wide smile as the old Master of the archives turns to her. The young Padawan, though not so young now she thinks, bears a couple of datapads, old ones she’d borrowed before her last assignment.

“Ah, Padawan Tano. Apologies, but I’m a bit occupied at the moment.”

She gestures behind her, where a youngling Clan chatters excitedly. At the sight of Ahsoka, one Nautolan girl lights up and turns to her friend, whispering furiously.

Ahsoka smiles and waves a little, getting a few waves back. “Sorry, Master, I didn’t realise. I can come back later,” she offers.

“That’s quite alright.” Master Nu waves her off. “Just leave it on my desk, and I—”

She stops. Her gaze drifts to the far end of the hallway, but when Ahsoka follows it, she finds nothing there. She’s about to ask what’s wrong, but then she feels it, too: a roil of darkness and fear.

“What is that?” she whispers, unmoving.

The younglings finally notice, a long moment after their seniors, and begin speaking frantically.

“Is the Temple under attack?”

“What do we do, Master Nu?”

“What’s happening?”

“I have to go find my Master!”

With a raised hand, Master Nu silences them all. “Quiet.” Quickly glancing around, she spots a meditation room with an open door. “Quickly, into the meditation room. Padawan Tano, watch our backs.”

“Yes, Master.”

The younglings file into the room obediently, still whispering to one another. One girl, a young Kiffar, bursts into tears, so Ahsoka pulls her aside immediately.

“My Master left to go to the Senate Building,” the Initiate blubbers. “She doesn’t know we’re in danger! I have to find her!”

(She’s too young to have a Master, Ahsoka realises, and doesn’t have a Padawan braid. The Master must’ve found her on a Search and bonded with her.)

“See if you can contact her on your comm, but you need to stay here until we know what’s going on, okay?”

She shakes her head. “I can’t leave her!”

“I understand. My Master is out there somewhere, too,” Ahsoka tries to reassure. “But I can’t let you leave alone, either. As soon as it’s safe, we’ll go find her together.”

The Initiate wipes at her eyes and nods, following the rest of her clan into the meditation room. Ahsoka looks back to Master Nu, who is glancing down the hall with wide, horrified eyes. Something has pulled in the Force.

Someone skids to a stop around the corner.

It’s a young human boy, a Padawan that Ahsoka has seen trailing behind Master Drallig for the last few weeks. On his sleeve, a scorch mark has burned through the fabric to his skin: a blaster wound.

At the sight of Master Nu and Ahsoka, his face twists in relief and he runs toward them.

“Zett,” Master Nu breathes out, taking his arm as soon as he’s close. “What’s going on?”

Through panting breaths, he speaks the impossible. “The clones—the clones are killing us!” he cries. “They got Master Drallig and I can’t find the Council—”

“What?” Ahsoka questions fiercely. “What are you talking about?”

“I know you won’t believe me, but I really saw it! It’s the 501st, they have their armour and everything and they’re killing everybody—!”

Master Nu squeezes his uninjured shoulder. “Breathe, Padawan. I believe you.”

“What!?” Ahsoka turns on her. “They would never—!”

“It may be someone else in that armour, but you know he’s telling the truth, Ahsoka. You can feel it,” she says warningly. “Don’t let emotion cloud your instincts.”

She backs down, but her chest tightens. “Yes, Master,” she says quickly.

“How many of them are there?”

“All of them. Master Drallig—” Zett chokes on his name. “—he told me to go to the landing pad, to get out and find help.”

“I’ll go with you!”

Ahsoka jumps when the young Kiffar reappears, running up to Zett.

“I’m a good tracker,” she says quickly, “and I know where my Master’s going! We can find her!”

Zett looks to Master Nu at the same time she does, uncertainty in his bright eyes. The old archivist casts her gaze to the end of the hall, where the chaos is starting to get louder. With a deep breath, she kneels before the younglings, a hand on each of their shoulders.

“Do not stop, especially for anyone in clone armour. Don’t trust anyone you don’t recognise and whatever you do, do not return to the Temple until you are given the all-clear, do you understand?” When they both nod, she reaches for their hands and presses them together, letting Zett take the girl’s. Master Nu gives him a firm look. “Hold onto each other. Do not let go. This is not a game.”

“Yes, Master,” they say at the same time, equally shaky.

She stands. “Go.”

The pair run off, Zett tugging the Kiffar girl closer to him as they dash down the hall. Ahsoka watches them go, waiting until they’re around the corner to turn her attention back to Master Nu, who has apparently done the same. Before she can speak, the archivist puts a hand on her shoulder as well.

“Stay with the younglings. Lock the door behind you and defend them with your life,” she instructs.

The girl’s eyes widen. “What? You’re leaving?”

“If the Temple is being attacked, there are things I have to do,” is her grim reply. “No one can get their hands on the archives, Padawan, no one. I’ll come find you when I get the chance.”

If I get the chance. The thought is there, though unspoken.

Steeling herself, Ahsoka swallows roughly but nods. “Yes, Master.”

With a glance over the Padawan’s shoulder, Master Nu lowers her voice. “Above all, make sure they make it out.”

“May the Force be with you,” she says quietly, a hope more than a comfort.

Master Nu smiles, a little sad, a little proud. “It is always with us, Ahsoka. It is always with you. Be brave.”

Her words echo in the young Togruta’s mind even as she departs. When she finally pulls herself together, she rushes into the meditation room, counting heads and closing the door behind her. She enters a code to lock it down completely before turning back to her charges.

“I need you all to listen carefully and do exactly as I say, okay?”

There are scattered nods and ‘yes, Padawan Tano’s, so she gives out instructions.

They build barricades throughout the room, providing cover for themselves. Initiates with lightsabers pair up with those without and the latter group gets a few weapons from Ahsoka. Her clone troopers—the ones killing Jedi—gave her quite a few vibroblades and pocket blasters over the years and she’s kept them all. It’s more than a little useful right now, she thinks as she hands them to the younglings.

“Keep your heads down and trust in the Force,” Ahsoka orders, ducking behind a gathering of meditation chairs and tables with three Initiates. She places a hand on the shoulder of the youngest, a small Mirialan with teary eyes. “It’s going to be okay.”

Footsteps thunder from the hallway outside. The younglings fall silent in an instant, poised for battle.

Something catches in Ahsoka’s chest. They’re ready for this. They’re children and terrified but they’re ready for a fight. Is this what her Master used to feel when he looked at her, 14 standard and standing on the front lines? Like something was desperately wrong with this picture?

“The scanners indicate life forms in this room, sir.”

Ahsoka freezes.

It sounds like a clone, though she can't place who. Could Zett have been right? Are the clones—the 501st, of all battalions—turning against them? What in the Force would make them do that? Something here is horribly, horribly wrong.

There's some beeping on the other side of the wall and someone out there must have the codes, because the door starts to slide open.

Ahsoka motions for the younglings to stay behind what little cover she was able to provide as the door wheezes open. She pokes her head out just enough to see and—

“Master!” she cries, leaping up.

Anakin is at the door, his lightsaber in his hand but unlit. He looks mildly surprised to see her, but takes her hug without hesitation.

“Thank the Force,” she breathes out. “We heard blasters and then Master Nu told us to hide. What’s happening?”

In her embrace, Anakin is unmoved.

She frowns, looking up at him. “Master?”

Light washes over her, the stark blue of his lightsaber being lit. She glances down to get a look at where he’s pointing it, what he could possibly be defending her from in a room of younglings. But then pain strikes her abdomen, squeezing her lungs. A choked gasp drags itself from her lips and she finally sees it.

The saber in her chest. Anakin’s saber in her chest.

A youngling screams and blaster fire echoes throughout the room, but Ahsoka can’t see what happens. She can’t even cry out for the Initiates she was meant to protect. All she can do is look back up at him.

His expression is blank, untouched by her apparent agony. He stares down at her with those yellow eyes—

Yellow eyes?

Her mouth falls open a little, her legs wobbling. She loses her balance, falling into him. And he catches her. There isn’t any sort of purpose to the movement, but he catches her.

He has yellow eyes.

Ahsoka thinks of Dooku, of his last moments spent glaring at her and her Master, those burning yellow eyes. She thinks of his red lightsaber fitting perfectly into Anakin’s hand and how nauseous she’d become at the sight.

“Anakin?”

It’s weak, hardly there. She doesn’t even know if he hears it.

And then she’s falling, falling to the floor. He drops her, lets her crumble underneath him, unable to hold herself up.

He walks away.

Breathing raggedly, Ahsoka wants to reach out, wants to grab the bottom of his robe before he can leave her. But her hands won’t cooperate, her entire body screaming at the scorched wound she bears.

The meditation room has fallen silent, leaving the troopers to follow after Anakin. They start to leave, but one notices she’s still breathing, still trying to move.

He lifts his blaster and she finally sees him.

“Rex,” she breathes out.

The jaig eyes on his helmet, carefully painted, give him away instantly. He lifts his pistols and she wants to cry. She doesn’t have the strength for even that. But she doesn’t need any strength to see that his hands are shaking. Ahsoka will never know what’s going on in his head, what’s driving him to lift his blasters in her direction. All she knows is that his hands are shaking.

“It’s okay, Rex,” she says, sounding far from it. “It’s okay.”

He fires.

*

River’s Tags: @hahaboop & @mystoragehatesme

Reblogs are better than likes and deeply appreciated!

If you tag this as an Ahsoka ship, I will block you so fast.

Masterlist

[writeyouin]

May I then request female reader with TFP Megatron? He was fighting with Optimus (as usual), noticed the Autobots human allies and ordered Vehicons to destroy the pests. Fast movement caught his eye and with utter disbelief, he saw a new human ally shooting his men down with a miniature Energon gun and doing athletic maneuvers to dodge them and her beauty and ferocity smitten him. After defeat, he has Sounderwave look her up and decides to convince her to join their side and become his.

Megatron X Reader - Powerful

A/N – Now that I am safe in my den, I can proofread this.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Ughhhh,” Miko groaned dramatically, much to Bulkhead’s chagrin. “Come on Bulk, it’s not fair. Why can’t I go?”

“Miko,” Bulkhead said warningly, not that it had much effect.

“It’s only a recovery mission. You’ll never even know I’m there.”

“We both know that’s not true.”

Miko clasped her hands together, “Please.”

Bulkhead turned to you, seeing that you were checking the computer console for Decepticon activity, “Uh (Y/N), a little help here?”

You sighed, wondering why you were stuck explaining your mission to Miko again. On one hand, she was right, it was a simple recovery mission. A Unit E surveillance drone that had been sent to monitor Decepticon activity had went offline in the middle of the Grand Canyon. All you had to do was recover the drone, repair it, and see what it had found before it went offline. However, on the other hand, you were sure it was a trap. A drone that expensive shouldn’t ever have crashed out of the blue; you had a sneaking suspicion that Laserbeak had something to do with the drone’s ‘malfunction.’ That was why you were taking an army truck and Optimus, Bulkhead, Bumblebee and Arcee would be escorting you. Should you be ambushed in the Canyon, you would be prepared.

You pinched the bridge of your nose exasperatedly, “Miko, we’ve been through this. When I’m not here, you are free to join whatever mission the bots will let you in on, but this is a Unit E mission. It will be my ass on the line if Fowler catches you out there.”

“What? Fowler’s coming? No fair.” Miko whined.

“Fair or not, he’s my boss. Sorry Miko, you can’t go this time.”

You went back to monitoring the computer, mapping out the route that would be taken to get to the drone. Another thing that bothered you about this job was that the ground bridge had recently started malfunctioning and couldn’t drop you off at the drone’s exact coordinates. You chewed the inside of your cheek; the mission hadn’t even started yet and it was already going wrong.

While you pondered the route to your goal, Miko was already concocting her own plan. Once she was away from Bulkhead, she planned on grabbing a blanket and sneaking into the back of your cargo truck; it was so simple that she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it sooner.

You glared at the rocky surroundings of the Grand Canyon, cursing that the drone had crashed right in the middle of it rather than somewhere more defendable. While Fowler drove the truck towards the drone, you surveyed the rocky outcrops that surrounded you.

“Give it a rest, (L/N),” Fowler said amiably, for once in a good mood since the mission was an easy one thus far. “We’ve only got to drive a little further and then we’re done. Easy as pie.”

You didn’t reply to the statement, instead asking Fowler a question, “Permission to end radio silence, Sir?”

“Permission granted.”

You nodded your thanks and commed the Autobots who were driving in formation around you to protect whatever was on the drone. “Everything clear, Optimus?”

“So far, Agent (L/N), however I have Ratchet running scans from the base as we speak.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You are welcome, Agent.”

Listening to you converse with Optimus from her position under a tarp in the back, Miko rolled her eyes, wondering why she’d even bothered to sneak aboard in the first place; this mission was a big dull dud. If only there had been a way to sneak into Bulkhead without him noticing; then she might have picked up some decent conversation at the very least.

In her head, she started a prayer to the only God that mattered; Jimi Hendrix, the God of rock. ‘Oh, Lizard King, great guitarist of Legend, please, for the love of your greatest fan Miko, make this mission more interesting, so I don’t die of boredom. Seriously dude! If I die of boredom before I’m the new God of ROCK, I will not be happy.’

After her impromptu prayer, Miko waited. Then she rolled her eyes when nothing happened. She tried again, mainly to give herself something to do. ‘Alright, so the Lizard King didn’t work… Guess I’ll have to go straight to the source of all the best music. Hey Freddie Mercury, it’s your gal, Miko. You didn’t like boredom either, so if you could do me a solid and-’

Miko was interrupted by the sound of screeching tyres. She lurched forward as the Land Rover came to an emergency stop. Something was finally happening and judging by the sound of Cybertronians transforming, and metal hitting metal, it was sure to be exciting.

‘All hail the QUEEN!’ Miko thought gleefully.

Forgetting any semblance of cover, she jumped out of the boot, eager to see what was going on. It was another trap, set by the Decepticons. Megatron, for once forgetting his usual flair for speeches had leapt down from the Canyon’s edge to battle with Optimus, who had clearly taken a bad hit.

Having not yet seen Miko, you breathed a sigh of relief once you were sure Optimus was okay and that he was going to fight back. Megatron was joined by a horde of Vehicons as well as Starscream and Soundwave. The rest of the Autobots transformed into bot mode, putting into play one of their battle strategies for such an occasion. Fowler was about to floor it, as was the plan; Optimus had made the two of you promise that you would leave should a battle occur, so the Autobots wouldn’t be distracted trying to protect you.

“STOP!” You screamed at him, grabbing his arm so he couldn’t put the truck into gear.

“AGENT!” Fowler bellowed back. “WHAT IN HELL DO YOU THINK-”

“Miko,” You pointed out the window. “She’s here!”

“Damn it!” Taking command of the situation, Fowler nodded towards the storage compartment on the passenger side, “Energon pistol there. Rescue that girl, Agent.”

You didn’t have to be told twice; this was exactly the kind of situation you had trained for. While Fowler was good at management, you were his top field agent, which was why he had introduced you to the Autobots in the first place. You grabbed your gun while Fowler drove away, employing evasive manoeuvres so the truck wouldn’t be destroyed; if it was, there would be no way to get Miko back to the base, should the Autobots fail.

You prayed that nobody would notice Miko; although you were fully prepared to fight a bot ten times your size to save her, you would rather get her out of any danger before the Decepticons took advantage of her human frailness. Unfortunately, your hope was dashed as Soundwave spotted Miko from his position above the canyon. It was rare he came on missions but Megatron had demanded his presence to record the demise of the accursed Autobots. Seeing you chasing aster Miko, he sent out Laserbeak.

“Laserbeak, capture the young organic.”

Eager to follow his master’s orders, Laserbeak swooped down into the fray, dodging and weaving between the warring Cybertronians.

“Soundwave, report,” Megatron commanded through his comm-link upon seeing Laserbeak flying behind Optimus.

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” Soundwave replied dutifully. “Laserbeak is to apprehend the Autobots’ organic allies.”

Megatron blocked a punch from Optimus, countering with one of his own. For the few seconds he was free from the fighting, he saw the pest that often travelled with the oaf, Bulkhead, being pursued by another human who he had never seen until today.

He growled, taking advantage of the situation to distract the Autobots, “SOUNDWAVE, DON’T WASTE TIME WITH THE HUMANS. RECALL LASERBEAK, NOW. VEHICONS, DESTROY THE HUMAN PESTS!”

Optimus’ optics widened in shock and he spun around to look at you. He reached out desperately, whispering a muted, “No.”

Using the distraction as an opening, Megatron leapt onto Optimus’ back and the two grappled with renewed vigour; Megatron eager to finally rid himself of his enemy, and Optimus struggling desperately to preserve all organic life, and his own.

“Bulkhead,” Miko cried, suddenly aware of the danger she was in now that six Vehicons were surrounding her, weapons raised.

Bulkhead roared angrily, and jumped in front of her. The Vehicons converged on him, and though he was fighting with all his might, he could not possibly last long against all of them. Avoiding a Vehicon on your own trail, you began shooting, never missing a target, which wasn’t much of an achievement, considering the Decepticons’ massive size. A normal pistol wouldn’t have done any good, but yours wasn’t any ordinary pistol; the weapon had been designed by the Autobots using a slither of their energon supplies. You were only ever supposed to use it in an emergency, since any more ammunition would cost your comrades more precious energon, so this was the first time you had used it, and it certainly packed one hell of a punch.

You almost went down from the recoil alone, though you soon got the hang of it. Employing years of training, you kept shooting until Bulkhead was free and the Vehicons attacking him weren’t getting up. There was no time for gratitude as the battle raged on, and you quickly realised that you were in this till the end.

With more Vehicons pursuing you, you had no choice but to keep moving, taking shots whenever you could.

Optimus managed to kick Megatron off him, though he had little time to follow up, needing a few more seconds to recover from Megatron’s ferocious beating. Megatron was about to finish off Optimus when one of his own soldiers fell on top of him. He was going to kill the fool for incompetence alone, until he noticed that the bot was already dead, a burning hole leaking energon close to where his spark was.

Megatron scanned the battlefield, wondering what had caused such a violent death, and then he saw you for a second time. Although he knew he should have crushed you where you stood while you were unaware of him lurking behind you, he simply couldn’t. He was fascinated by the way you moved. Throughout his long life, Megatron had seen the very best of Cybertronian fighters; he had never seen an organic of any form fight so effectively, especially against a Cybertronian.

Megatron wondered if you were afraid. If you were, you never hesitated to think about it, throwing yourself into the heart of the fight to protect the youngling Miko, who had foolishly run the wrong way. Your hair was plastered messily to your scalp, held in place by sweat and energon. Did you even know you were bleeding from your right thigh? Megatron doubted it; he had heard rumours that human adrenalin made the squishy organics forget their pain temporarily.

Unable to help himself, Megatron reached out for you. Afraid he was planning to kill you, Optimus pulled Megatron’s arm back, stretching it as far back as it would go, until the cables were taut and Megatron was grunting from the pain.

“(Y/N), RUN!” Optimus called to you, and you looked over to him. Instead of running, you snarled, aiming your pistol straight at Megatron’s spark while he was restrained. You pulled the trigger, but nothing happened; the pistol had finally run out of ammo.

Megatron broke free of Optimus’ restraint, then pretended to look around at his fallen soldiers, trying to find a reason to leave. You and the Autobots had taken out enough Decepticons for him to call a retreat. He would normally stay and fight till he was down to his last few bots, but if the fighting went on, he was afraid you might be killed, and you were far too valuable an asset to lose, even if you were an Autobot asset.

“This isn’t over Prime,” Megatron growled. “Decepticons, leave the fallen and retreat.”

His soldiers looked at him questioningly, but complied with his orders, afraid to receive a trip to Megatron’s worst torture devices if they didn’t. Not even Starscream dared argue with Megatron’s odd behaviour in case he put him to work with that brute Predaking again.

You looked around to the Autobots, checking they were alright. When you were sure they were, you glared at Miko.

She shrugged her shoulders awkwardly, “Heh… Guess we won this time?”

“Get in the car Miko, now.”

Miko’s shoulders slumped and she made her way over to Fowler, who had successfully kept the truck safe. Normally, she would have asked to ride with Bulkhead, but quite frankly, he looked disappointed in her too, and she didn’t want a lecture from him of all people; so much for an adventure, instead she had only caused more trouble than she was worth.

Once Miko was safe on her way to the ground bridge with Fowler, you approached Optimus who transformed, opening his truck door so the two of you could talk in private. Megatron’s behaviour was unsettling at best and the two of you would have to talk for quite some time about what might have caused it.

In his hab-suite aboard the Nemesis, Megatron sat in a chair, resting his servo over his spark. When he was retrained, you didn’t even hesitate about shooting him; it was glorious. Megatron found it ironic that you hadn’t managed to shoot his spark, yet you had still captured it all the same.

The second he had returned to the Nemesis he had sent Soundwave on a mission to locate you and bring you to him. All Megatron needed now was a way to turn your vivacious ferocity onto his enemies. Well, he had spent many a year using Deception to get what he wanted; he would most certainly use it again to make you his.

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[spaceiplier]

Ocean Man (oh and Blank’s here too)

Ethan sat back in his seat. The hum of the ship filled the relatively silent room. Stars blurred past them, the dusky expanse of a nebula quickly approaching. His hands were clutched in the folds of his hoodie. Slowly flexing his fingers, Ethan stared at the wide empty space around them.

Space was so big. He had never given it much thought. It just was. Now that he had something to look for, however, he found himself lost in the stars. It was too vast, and the thing he was searching for too small. Like finding a needle in a haystack.

“You doing alright?” Mark asked, entering the cockpit of his own pod. He sat, the holo image of him flickering a bit as he settled into his seat. “You haven’t said a word since we left.”

“I’m just nervous, I guess,” Ethan said, finally letting go of his hoodie to run his hands through his hair. “What if he’s not there? What if he’s hurt? What if we can’t find him, and then we do, and he’s- he’s dead? Mark, what if he’s dead? What if it’s not even him?! What if someone just thought they saw Blank? It could be just some random android who kind of looks like Blank. What if—”

“Hey,” Mark interrupted him, holding up his hands. “Calm down, alright? Nothing is going to get solved by panicking. If he’s hurt, we get help. If he’s not there, we keep looking. He’s not dead.”

Ethan opened his mouth to protest but Mark shut him down quickly again.

“He isn’t dead, Ethan,” Mark said, taking on a softer tone of voice. Ethan looked up to see Mark smiling at him. “The GAAP confirmed he’s alive. He’s out there, and we’re going to find him, no matter how long it takes. Don’t give up so soon, alright?”

“Okay,” Ethan said, letting himself sink further into his seat. “Just… it’s been so long. And with everything that happened to us… we thought we were going to die. And then he did. I gave up on him and ran away. And now I have hope that he’s alive, but he might not be. I might be holding onto something stupid.”

The green and yellow nebula was slowly fading away, replaced by a wide field of asteroids. Not close enough that Ethan could make out details. The wide belt of rocks filled the area, growing closer.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Mark said. “What you two went through was horrific. Nobody should ever experience that. It’s okay to be scared. That’s what makes you alive, dude. Just know that we’re going to do this.”

“Thanks, Mark,” Ethan smiled back, even if it felt weak. “You’re a good guy when you’re not being a fucking dick.”

“Anytime,” Mark waved him off. “Now pay attention. We’re getting close to the Seupeullis Asteroid field. We might lose communication while we’re going through there, but you need to keep going. We’ll meet up on the other side.”

“Roger that,” Ethan said, setting his feet firmly on the ground and steadying his hands over the controls. “See you there.”

As the asteroid field approached, Mark’s holographic image went fuzzy before disappearing completely. This shouldn’t take too long. Ethan focused.

He and Mark entered the field.

A few alarms blared as asteroids cut too close to Ethan’s pod, and a small, shaking diagram of the pod showed a large red dot at the top of the ship. Ethan remembered what it meant a moment too late as a larger asteroid scraped the top of the pod. Ethan flinched as several more alarms started screaming, and red lights flashed behind him.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, managing to avoid a few more hits. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Mark doing much better than him, narrowly avoiding an asteroid twice the size of his pod.

The comm flickered back into range as they were forced closer together.

“How -re you… up? Do you… get out… broken…”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Ethan shouted back, diving down and out of range again. As he dove back up, Mark’s panicked face flickered back into view.

“They’re denser than predicted!” Mark said, his voice distorted by static but understandable. “How are you holding up?”

“I got hit,” Ethan said, pulling up his diagnostic. “Just a scrape, but I can’t take another hit like that. How are you doing?”

“A couple… all.” Mark’s voice faded out again as a few smaller asteroids flew between the two pods.

All of a sudden, a large green blip appeared on Ethan’s screen. It was close, and growing closer. An alarm went off, and green light filled both Ethan and Mark’s pits. They shared an alarmed look before the asteroids began being dragged in the opposite direction.

“What is a wormhole doing out here?” Ethan shouted as Mark’s screen went dark. Ethan pulled back on the controls, swerving around a series of hurtling rocks. Dodging one, another smashed into the side of his ship. He was sent flying away, farther and farther from Mark.

Managing to get the shaking pod back under control and out of the wormhole’s pull, Ethan swung back around.

He was ready to keep dodging asteroids, but they were no longer crashing around. They hung, stationary. Ethan let go of the controls and threw his hands in the air.

“We made it!” he yelled, his voice still half drowned out by the alarms. “Mark, we— Mark?”

His face still hadn’t reappeared, and the large green blip had vanished. Ethan started flicking through his controls, attempting to reform the connection. The alarms stopped. Now that everything wasn’t happening at once, Ethan looked outside, hoping to find Mark’s pod.

Panic shot through him when he didn’t see anything. Was he still stuck in the field? Ethan swung his pod around shakily, tracing the edge of the asteroid field as he scanned for Mark. Nothing came up.

Mark was gone.

.

.

“MOTHERFUCKING FUCK WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS NOT OKAY ETHAN WHAT THE FUCK!”

Mark screamed, cussing out anything he could get his hands on. His ship spun through a vortex of colors. All he could do was hold on as he was tossed about, rocks crashing into him. Both wings were torn off the pod, and an engine was in flames. The alarms were screaming, but one had shut off. The wiring was damaged too.

Great. Everything had gone to hell.

“FUCK!” Mark pulled a few levers, hoping one of them would do something, but before he could find out, something large, flat, and metal slammed into the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

.

.

“... BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.

Mark came too, vision blurry and head pounding. The alarm was going off, but it sounded like it was a thousand miles away. Mark reached out to his the snooze. Just five more minutes. He’d never been drunk, but he imagined that this was what hangovers were like.

His hand hit something hard and covered in controls. Blinking, the control dash came into focus. Why was he in a pod? And why was the air so thick?

Heat licked at his leg. Looking down, the floor was on fire. A few patches of flames had consumed the pit.

“Fuck!” Mark attempted to leap back, but he was strapped to his seat. He frantically clawed at the belts, releasing himself and stumbling out of his chair. His hand landed on the latch to the emergency exit. Without thinking, he pushed.

FWOOMP!

Water rushed into the pod, completely burying Mark in frigid water.

His first instinct was to flail. Find some handhold. Find something to get him out of the fucking water. Everything was dark and cold. He could barely see, and the sudden rush of water forced his air out in a panicked scream.

His hand hit something. The ship. Grabbing hold, Mark used it to hurtle himself up. Out of the water, and towards the faintly glowing surface.

Mark hit the surface with a sputtering gasp. Hands paddling to keep himself afloat, he coughed, retching up the water he’d swallowed. His chest hurt, and the cold was quickly sinking into his skin. He shivered.

“Wha… where… Ethan!”

Mark threw himself around. The tip of his ship stuck out of the water, but there was no sign of another pod. The sky was dark, only illuminated with a clouded over moon. Too dark to make out any other defining features around him. No ships. No land. Nothing.

Just… ocean.

“ETHAN!” Mark shouted, his voice cracking from the water and smoke inhalation. His chest seized with panic and cold. His teeth chattered as he swam back to his pod. He wanted out of the water as quickly as possible.

He pulled himself onto the tip of the pod, and the wind hit him.

Oh, this was much worse.

From the top, however, he could just barely make out a landmass. Maybe a dozen yards away, but close enough to swim to if he didn’t die of hypothermia first. It was better than staying out here.

Taking a deep breath, Mark jumped back into the ocean.

Fuck, he hated the ocean. It was dark. It was cold. There were several bioluminescent plants lighting the sandy slopes, and a few schools of fish swam through the looping coves lining the bottom.

Death. Just pure death.

Mark rose back to the surface. The Academy had required passing a swim test, and with Mark’s Ir’al father, he’d seen enough lakes and pools to be a decent swimmer. He had never liked those swimming trips. Thomas, his brother, had always liked the water much more than him.

He didn’t know if he had always hated water. What Mark did know was that when he was younger, he’d tried breathing underwater. Stupid, yeah, but he was young. All he had wanted was to be more like his dad, and his dad could breathe underwater. Mark had nearly drowned, saved only by his mother yanking him out. She’d yelled his ears off about it as she held him close, wrapped in a towel.

It was his earliest memory of water. Painful, cold, and crushing in on him as he was powerless to stop his own death.

Mark took another deep breath as he paused, looking up to see if he was any closer to the shore. Just a few more strokes and he’d be there. Now that he was closer, he could see towering trees and thick underbrush. A few birds circled overhead. The island didn’t look big, but it was better than water.

He took off again.

Mark hadn’t inherited much from his Ir’al DNA. Stronger, and a better resilience to injuries, but none of the gills or fins. Not even webbed fingers. Still, he’d inherited a strong resemblance to his father. His dad always used to hold him on his shoulders as they walked down to the market. He’d comment to anyone who’d listen about how much Mark looked like him, pride in every word.

And Mark would always beam. He loved his dad. He always wanted to make him proud and do right by him. It was half the reason he aimed to join the Academy. Mark had always taken his father’s lessons to heart. He’d always tried to be someone his dad would be proud of.

When he was younger, Mark had wanted that, but he’d always felt like he was missing something with his dad. At first, he thought it had been because he wasn’t Ir’al enough. He didn’t like water, he couldn’t do anything like what his dad could do. He wasn’t enough.

Over time he’d come to accept that he was good enough as who he was. But there was always that nag in the back of his head that he was missing something with his dad. When he’d died, Mark knew that that was the end of it. He’d never get an answer to why he felt so lost with his dad.

He couldn’t change the past. All he could do was keep moving.

Mark’s hands touched coarse sand. He pulled himself up and out of the water, breathing hard. His flight suit was soaked, and his hair clung to his face. The wind sunk its teeth into him, causing him to shake and hold himself.

He needed to find shelter, and he needed a heat source.

.

.

“Amy? Tyler? Kathryn? Anyone? Come on, guys. Answer!”

Ethan jammed the radio furiously, but no one responded. He’d managed to quiet down the alarms, and the ship was completely silent now. Other than his own quiet and desperate requests, it was mind-numbingly silent.

Alone.

Quiet.

Lost.

“Answer me!” Ethan begged and smacked the comm. For a moment it buzzed with static, but then was gone again. “Fuck!” Ethan tossed the comm away, hearing it clatter behind him. He had no outside communication.

What was his best chance? At this point, he was lost. Mark was nowhere in sight. Probably got sucked into the wormhole and spat back out god knows where, if anywhere at all. Ethan was out of the asteroid field, but his pod was badly damaged. At least his tracker was still working. Blank’s location still pinged steadily, a lonely blue dot on the map.

Ethan couldn’t make it. Not in this ship. He’d crash before he even got close. There were three planets between him and Blank. Two were uninhabitable, and the other one had just recently been introduced to the GAAP. They’d just started venturing out into space. Would they have the capabilities to get him off world if he stopped there?

He had to take that chance. Ethan’s only other options were a gas planet or a planet covered in a raging sandstorm.

Janky backwater planet it was then.

Ethan started slowly towards the planet, hoping his shuddering pod didn’t collapse around him.

.

.

Mark’s stomach growled loudly.

His shoddy lean-to provided cover from the wind, and a small fire was keeping him reasonably warm, but any food Mark had packed for his trip was stuck in his pod and probably completely soaked. With his ship sunk into the ocean, comm stuck inside, and no means of escape, time seemed to escape him. The sky seemed to remain an overcast gray no matter what. Heavy fog lay over everything, covering everything with cold moisture and obscuring any view he might have had.

The wind picked up suddenly, and Mark shifted closer to his fire.  

The planet he was on was mainly ocean, as far as he could tell. Miles upon miles of cold, dark, miserable, unforgiving ocean stretching as far as he could see. It blended with the clouds on the horizon, making it seem even more infinite. The only other life he could see nearby were a few large, slick birds flying overhead, and the copse of trees he was barely sheltered by.

He hadn’t gone back into the ocean. No way in hell was he going to set foot in that expanse of death. He’d found enough supplies on the tiny island he’d set up camp on to last him at least another day. Maybe farther inland he’d find some ways of communicating off this planet? Or maybe some way of speaking to a sentient species that lived here. Maybe something to eat. Either way, the last thing he wanted to do was go back into the ocean.

One of the large birds that had been circling Mark’s location suddenly dove toward the ocean. It plunged beneath the icy surface and reemerged with a medium-sized fish in its beak. It landed on the edge of the shore, carrying its prize proudly.

The bird seemed to look over at Mark with its catch before swallowing the fish whole.

Mark’s stomach rumbled again.

No. Nope. He wasn’t going in. No way.

The bird hopped away and took off.

“Stupid bird,” Mark muttered. The wind picked up again, and with a sharp crack lightning illuminated the sky. Rain slowly started falling, drowning his pitiful fire. Mark huddled farther under his shuddering shelter, praying it would last through the increasingly heavy downpour.

It didn’t. With a clatter, the shelter fell around Mark. Whatever sort of dryness he had attained was instantly taken away as he was soaked by the rain. Thunder roared all around, causing Mark to yelp and scamper on all fours back into the trees.

Well, it was at least slightly better than the empty beach. Mark glanced around at the closest trees, hoping for a small hole or cave he could hide in, but nothing presented itself. The trees were all tall and thin, with only a small clump of branches at the top.

Fine. Farther into the trees was the only logical place. The center rose slightly, forming a series of cliffs, covered with dense fog. Maybe there was an outcropping, or some shallow cave to hide in. Anything to last him through the night so he could gather his thoughts and make it through this nightmare.

He stumbled to his feet. Mark hurt. The crash had bruised what felt like every inch of his body. Each step sent fire racing up his right leg. He must have sprained his ankle. There was nothing to do about it now. Just keep walking. Keep moving forwards and survive.

As he walked, Mark huffed with laughter. He remembered another stupid idiot in a situation much like this one. Hurt and alone. Running off by himself. History really did have a habit of repeating itself.

Just keep walking.

He could survive this.

Mark missed Chica.

Mark was soaked, cold, and completely miserable when he nearly walked right into a large flat wall. It seemed to stretch miles upward, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d missed it. Its top had to have been buried somewhere in the fog.

He kept one hand on the wall and followed it to its edge. Peering around the corner, Mark’s spirits rose when he spotted what appeared to be an entrance. He nearly tripped over his own feet as he half jogged, half limped to the large gateway. Deep blue curved markings curled around the frame, giving off a dim glow slightly refracted by the rain. The door was solid black with two large blue handles.

Mark stumbled forwards, grabbing onto the handle. As he touched it, the glow faintly pulsed before fading again. He struggled briefly trying to pull the door open, and he almost believed it was locked before he leaned against it and it started to shift open.

Of fucking course.

The moment he was inside the door closed behind him, plunging him into a nearly pitch black room. All sounds of the ocean and howling wind were cut off. It was replaced with dry air and a crushing feeling of being watched.

Mark yelped as his vision was cut off. His hands flung out, and he backed up until he was pressed against the door. As soon as the light was gone, however, the room was dimly illuminated. A few barely-lit blue lamps sat around the circular room. They weren’t bright enough to show Mark the room in full detail, but it was enough to give him an idea that this room was huge, and it wasn’t natural.

Someone had made this place. They had carved it out intentionally.

“Hello?” Mark called out, hesitantly at first, but then with feeling. “Hello?!”

The only thing that answered was his own voice, echoing off against the curved walls.

Mark shivered, but it wasn’t from the cold.

.

.

Ethan flipped his hood up, shoving his hands into his pockets. Keeping his eyes focused on the ground, he left the alleyway. Part of him wished he’d worn a less obvious hoodie than his bright yellow one, but he didn’t really have many options at this point.

“Sir! Pfirone! Can I interest you in some fresh pfirone?”

“Come get your Visba!”

“Hey! Give that back!”

Ethan forced his way through the crowds, avoiding eye contact with everyone. Swarms of children found their way through the legs of the adults. A few small canid animals yapped at each other. The adults shouted and argued, haggling over prices, talking above the dull roar of crowds, shouting at their disobedient children. It was a mess, but somehow managed to find its own order.

“Watch it!”

Ethan was shoved from behind as a large man walked past, holding a giant crate of something sour smelling. He stumbled into another man, his hands instinctively coming out to catch himself.

“Hey, are you okay…” the man started to ask, but then his eyes landed on Ethan’s metal blue hands. His eyes widened. Their eyes met and Ethan cursed himself. He yanked back, shoving his hands into his pockets again, and took off running.

The shouts of the man were lost in the crowd as Ethan put as much distance between him and the man as possible.

He only stopped running when he finally managed to reach the edge of the market. The crowd was considerably thinner as a few small groups of people entered and exited the expansive marketplace, chatting amicably among themselves.

Of course he had managed to crash land on a planet where there were no androids. The most advanced technology here were robots, and they sucked! Ethan knew some badly programmed robots, and these were worse.

The first town Ethan had stumbled upon had nearly taken him apart. They all were grabbing at him, trying to touch him. The metal guy who could speak like them. A marvel to them, obviously. Ethan had taken the first chance he got to bolt.

He kept his head down as he walked, only glancing up occasionally to make sure he wasn’t going to crash into someone. He just needed to find somewhere safe to spend the rest of the day, and then he could keep working on figuring out how to get off of this trash heap of a planet.

It had only been three days since he’d last seen Mark.

Three days, and Ethan was already sick and tired of being alone. He wanted to be home on the Barrel. He wanted to go out and explore new planets with Kathryn and Amy. He wanted to lose at every game with Tyler and Mark. He wanted to program Bing to learn new skate tricks and karaoke songs. He wanted to cuddle up with the dogs.

He shook his head. No. Ethan was here to find Blank, and he wasn’t going to stop until he had found his brother. He had to get off this planet. Blank was the one who needed him now. Not Mark, not Amy, not the dogs, and not Bing. Blank.

Well… maybe Mark. But he wasn’t the main concern right now. Mark could take care of himself.

As Ethan passed the edge of town, his eye was caught by a poster attached to a brick wall coated in numberless other signs. Calls for work, signs for lost pets, but most importantly: a poster with the location of a GAAP station.

They’d have a way off this planet.

.

.

The entire building was dead.

Mark had been wandering its halls for what had to have been hours, and he’d found nothing but winding hallways and more dim lamps. His eyes, adjusted to the darkness, now managed to make out that the walls were covered in strange glyphs. There were several outlines that looked like doors, but none opened. He’d finally managed to get back to what he assumed was the room he started in, and slumped against the wall.

At least he was mostly dry now, and out of the rain.

“Wonder what Ethan is doing?” he asked himself. Nothing answered, but he kept talking. Something to fill the emptiness around him. “Probably safe and cozy in some GAAP building, if he hasn’t found Blank already. He’s probably at least around other people. People who can talk to him. Not some birds and an empty old building.”

“Bal’leo loll...”

Mark shrieked, jumping to his feet and pressing his back against the wall. The deep voice, as soon as it had spoken, was gone again. The room was empty and silent again. Mark looked around. Where had that voice come from?

“Who’s there?” Mark called out.

Nothing answered.

Then, the lamp sitting against the far wall began glowing brighter. The blue light washed over everything, giving it a haunted, almost underwater appearance.

This was a bad idea.

Mark turned around and tried to open the door. Nothing.

Fuck. This was a really bad idea.

Turning back to the light, Mark took a deep breath and walked towards it. The closer he got, the dimmer it grew. Reaching it, he saw the light sinking into the floor. The glyphs glowed as they ran towards the wall. Then, the outline of the door glowed. With a snap the door opened, dust falling as the stone broke after years of no use.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Mark told himself.

And he walked through the door.

.

.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

The lobby of the GAAP office was tiny. A single Nelidi man sat at the desk, two hands poised above a comm keyboard, one scribbling out notes, and the last holding a mug of steaming dark brown liquid. His long hair was pulled back into a high knot, and his four eyes blinked out of sync.

“Uh, yeah.” Ethan pushed back his hood. The Nelidi gasped, all four eyes widening in shock, and Ethan winced. “I’m looking for a way off planet. I crashed here a few days ago and I need to leave.”

“Oh,” the man said, hands instantly reaching for forms and a pen. “Please, have a seat! Fill these out, and we will see about getting you a ship off-world. If you don’t mind me asking though…” He looked around before leaning towards Ethan. “What are you doing back here?”

“What?” Ethan took the form and began filling out his information. “Dude, I’ve never been here before.”

“Are you sure?” the Nelidi man took a closer look at him. “I swear you look like that android that came through here a few months back. Shakey fellow. I covered the ID code for him. I know all too well about those rich scientists who abuse androids off-record. Understandable to run away like that.”

He clicked his tongue.

Ethan was frozen. Blank… Blank had been here!

“Tell me everything,” Ethan said forcefully as he slammed the form down, staring the shocked Nelidi down. “When was this? Where did he go? Did he look okay? Are you sure you covered his ID code? Did he have anyone with him? What—”

“Hey, hey!” The man held up his hands. “I don’t know much, okay? I just know the poor kid was on the run and needed to disappear. I’m not the best GAAP agent. Clearly. I’m stuck out on this backwater planet. He just came through about two or so months ago. Needed a ship off planet and didn’t want the GAAP on his tail. That’s all.”

Ethan clenched his hands, crushing the pen.

Blank had been here.

Blank was still running.

“Can you at least tell me where he was headed?” Ethan asked hopefully.

The man looked him over. “You got the same creator?”

Ethan nodded.

The man sighed. “He was headed to Paisine. I don’t know if he’s still there, but that’s all I know. The next ship headed there leaves in an hour.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said, leaning heavily on the desk. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of him. He had a lead, and that was all that mattered. “Really, thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said, curiously looking Ethan over. “Oh, and don’t worry about filling out that form. The GAAP never has to know you were here.”

Ethan nodded, then moved to collapse on one of the seats. He began absentmindedly picking stuffing out of a tear in the cushion as hope filled his entire being.

“I’m coming, Blank,” he said. “I’m almost there.”

.

.

It was like a bad game of tag.

Lamps would light up, and as soon as Mark got to them they’d die and the next one was glowing just down the hall. Lamp after lamp, glowing and fading as he tried to catch up. They led him farther into the building, sometimes through doors that it seemed hadn’t been opened for years.

The voice hadn’t spoken again, but Mark was on edge. There hadn’t seemed to be any malicious intent in the voice, but it hadn’t seemed kind either. Just a voice, saying words that echoed around his brain.

There was someone here. Or an echo of someone, at least.

It was something.

As Mark rounded the corner, he stumbled to a halt. There were no more lamps. Instead, the hall opened up into a giant room that pulsed to life the moment Mark entered. The ceiling stretched so far up Mark could barely see it. Tubes ran down the sides of the walls, water rushing through them. In the center of the room sat a series of interlocking stone pieces forming a long pillar. It looked like a giant three dimensional puzzle. The glyphs around it glowed softly.

The voice spoke again. Mark jumped at the sudden noise, but as it continued to speak the nonsense slowly began to make sense.

“... have come to my home? Alone it seems.”

“Who are you?” Mark asked, slowly moving towards the stone.

“The Collective,” the voice said. This time the voice was no longer deep and menacing. Instead it was several soft and feminine voices, all overlapping. “I am the minds of every being of my home.”

“Wait… what?” Mark came to a stop before the pillar. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I am everyone, and yet I am myself,” the voices hummed and shifted to an overlay of deep and soft. “I am my home, and yet I am a stranger. Who are you, is the question? Why have you come here? No one has come to my home in nearly a thousand years. You are not part of the Collective.”

“I’m Mark,” Mark answered. “Just a person. Human and Ir’al. I crashed here a few days ago.”

“Mark,” the voices mused, repeating the name through different voices. A few of them chuckled. “You are like us. A stranger to yourself. How amusing.”

“Yeah, ha ha,” Mark huffed. “I’m hilarious, I know. How do I leave?”

The voice was quiet for a moment, before breaking out into laughter. It grated on Mark’s ears. Multiple laughs falling over each other, somehow a cacophony of shrill and dark noises. There was no joy in the laughter. No emotion. Just noise. As soon as it started, it ended.

“No one leaves,” the voice said. “I am the Collective. The Collective of all who lived here. All who have ever lived here. The Collective of the minds of my people. You cannot leave, because leaving means leaving behind our purpose. My mission to save.”

“Could you be creepier about that?” Mark asked.

The pillar flashed. “When you eventually meet the end of your life, you will become part of the Collective.”

“Oh.” Mark blinked. Then something clicked. “Wait… you’re made up of everyone who used to live here?”

“Find out for yourself,” the voices said, shifting to something childish and youthful. A piece of the ground broke off, rising up. As it reached the height of the center of Mark’s chest, a hologram appeared, flicking with blue light. “We hold the minds of many. I know all of my home. Anything you wish to know is ours to share with all.”

This felt wrong.

Mark didn’t feel as if the pillar had sinister intent towards him. It wasn’t trying to kill him. It was just speaking of an eventuality as a certainty. It was doing its job. Even if its job was to eventually absorb his brain into a hivemind-like entity trapped in an ancient alien building.

Not evil. Just wrong.

Tapping on the hologram, it expanded. Line upon line of text that wiggled around until it was in Common.

Great, it was already in his head.

For a few minutes he read. The pillar remained silent, letting him be. It was a little confusing at points, but it was fairly simple. An outline of the final moments of this planet’s sentient species.

The lives, the people… this planet had been alive. And now it was crumbling around itself. Doomed to fade away.

“You were dying,” Mark said as he finished.

“We died,” the voices said, and for the first time Mark heard emotion. Sadness. “I am continuing to die, and I cannot stop it.”

.

.

Ethan tapped his knees, staring straight ahead as the transport ship gave a worrying rattle. He glanced at the robot piloting the thing, but it didn’t pay him any attention. Crates surrounded him, strapped down, but still bouncing worryingly with every jolt. Only a few had supplies, as they were going off-world. Ethan was the only person on board. Nobody to talk to. Nobody to take his mind off where he was going.

He’d been traveling for two hours and forty-seven minutes now. Ethan hadn’t thought about how quiet traveling alone was. He’d only done it once, and that was when he’d left his creator. After that he’d always been with Kathryn, and then the Barrel.

It was so quiet now.

No jeers thrown back and forth between him and Mark. No tech talk with Kathryn or Tyler. No Amy to hang out with and chat about news from all those inner city tabloids. No Bing to mess around with.

Just him, and the looming fear that he would fail.

The small ship took a sharp turn as they approached the planet’s outer moon, causing a loosely-strapped crate to press Ethan into the wall. Ethan attempted to push it off of him, but seemed to have gotten lodged in place. Oh great. Just fucking perfect. He shifted slightly and rested his head against the wall.

It felt like the trip would never end.

“Are we there yet?” Ethan asked loudly, not expecting a response.

He got none.

“Cool, thanks,” Ethan said.

There weren’t any windows, so Ethan closed his eyes. He let his data banks fill in the blanks. Images of planets he’d seen. Moments with the crew. A few dog videos he’d recorded. Anything to distract him.

It was only another hour, but it flew by quickly. The ship rattled to a halt, and the robot beeped.

Ethan thanked the robot quickly and slipped quietly out of the GAAP docking station.

There was nobody there. Thank god. He’d be in a lot of trouble if someone asked for his forms. Ethan quickly slipped out of the station, flipping his hood up and avoiding eye contact with the robots taking crates from the ship.

He couldn’t get sidetracked. He’d wasted enough time as it was. Being stopped by security would only put Blank further out of reach. He knew where Blank was. Despite being so far away, he knew where he was and he was going to find him. The sooner he could find him, the better.

Ethan instinctively shoved his hands back in his pockets as he emerged onto the streets. They were narrow and crowded. The sky was overcast, the threat of rain not far off. Not many people walked close to the docks, and the few that did only gave him a couple odd glances before carrying on with their business.

Ethan gave one of them a cursory nod before pushing into the crowd, more careful this time to follow the flow of the traffic. It wasn’t too far to Blank’s last known location. It wasn’t likely that he was still there, but it was a good jumping off point.

Looking at the street signs, his data banks filled in the rest.

“I’m coming,” Ethan said quietly, and began walking.

.

.

“You need to eat.”

Mark yawned and stood up, rolling his shoulders to work out the knots from sleeping on the hard floor. Sleep blurred his eyes. That, or it was his contacts shifting in his eyes. Blinking a few times, the room came into focus. The glyphs were glowing, slowly bringing the room into a soft light.

“You need food,” the Collective said, sounding slightly impatient.

Mark’s stomach rumbled in agreement.

“Don’t you want me dead or something?” Mark grumbled. “Why do you care if I starve?”

“Gods, no,” the Collective gasped, several voices high pitched in horror. Mark didn’t know a hivemind could sound offended. “You still have a life to live. You joining us is inevitable should you die here, but there is still hope for you. The Collective does not want death. I want to continue. Death now would be pointless.”

“Well, do you know where I could get something to eat?” Mark asked, craning his neck to watch the flowing blue lights. “I didn’t see any fruits or anything on the surface- just a few birds.”

“The ocean is life,” the Collective said. “That is where you shall find sustenance.”

Mark’s stomach dropped and he groaned, “I was worried you were going to say that.”

“Why?” several voices asked in chorus. “The ocean was our home. It sustains this planet. It gave my people-”

“-us-”

“-me-”

“-purpose.”

The voices overlapped, saying different things all at once. It took Mark a second to figure out what the Collective had said.

“Look,” Mark said, “I don’t know what ocean you’ve been swimming in, but the ocean isn’t ‘life.’ It’s the opposite of that. It’s death. Pure, terrifying death. I’d rather die than go out in that murder trap.”

The voices were silent for a moment.

Mark stretched, cracking his back. There had to be something on this planet above ocean level. Maybe he could get one of those birds, or maybe there was something edible he would recognize.

“You mind letting me out?” Mark asked, gesturing at the sealed wall. With a crack the wall split, and the door swung open. The lamps began to glow outside of the door, leading him away.

“Thanks,” Mark said, starting to walk away.

“The ocean is your only hope,” the Collective murmured, for once sounding united, the voices solidifying into one.

Mark ignored them and kept walking.

.

.

Ethan frowned up at the gently swinging wooden sign. In blocky, straight lettering, the sign read: The Sleepy Zmezy. A two headed snake-like animal curled in between the letters, a stein lifted in between its two tails.

The rest of the building looked sturdy, but old. The roofing was wooden tiles, covered over with patches of moss. The walls were made of thick slabs of rock and concrete. Through the cloudy window panes a warm orange glow came. Every time the door swung open, music flowed out and loud laughter followed.

This was Blank’s last known location? Ethan checked his tracking. Yeah, this was it. His ID code had been pinged here. GAAP agents had been called on him, but the android was gone by the time anyone had arrived.

He wouldn’t be here, but maybe someone would know where he had gone.

Ethan pushed open the door. A rush of warm air and the smell of meat and homemade beer wafted through the room. It was filled with locals, a species with curled horns and pale skin ranging from brown to green to pink. They were loud, and a small band played in a corner.

Despite the noise, the whole place had a rather relaxed atmosphere. That was, at least, until Ethan saw the sign.

No Androids Allowed.

“Motherfucker,” Ethan muttered under his breath. That’s how the GAAP found Blank. Someone must have activated his ID long enough for a ping to form. They were probably trying to collect some bounty on him. Sell him off, or take him apart.

Ethan tugged the hood lower over his head and moved towards the back of the room, keeping to the walls. As long as nobody paid him mind, he could get a quick scan of the place and then be out.

He was halfway there when he tripped.

A coat lying on the ground had tangled around his foot. Ethan yelped, hands flying out to brace his fall. He bounced off the back of one of the Laemran, landing on the floor with a worrying crunch.

“You okay, kid?” the Laemran asked, leaning over to help him up.

Ethan curled over, hiding his face. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. His system was racing, trying to identify what he’d broken. The Laemran was tapping his shoulder. Nobody else seemed to have noticed his fall. Too busy with their own nights. They’d notice sooner or later, though.

“I… I’m fine,” Ethan managed to respond, attempting to shuffle away. “Really, I was just clumsy. I’m fine.”

“Here, let me help you.”

“No, wait!”

It was too late. The Laemran grabbed his shoulders, forcing him to stand. He towered over Ethan by a foot, long carved horns curling under his ears. Ethan’s hood fell back. He winced, his artificial features exposed.

The Laemran gaped at him, eyes going from worried to shocked.

Ethan stared back.

As long as he didn’t move, nothing would happen. They’d just stay like that, and nobody would notice. This was fine. Totally fine. One hundred percent fine.

“Android,” the Laemran said, shocked out of expression emotion.

Ethan opened his mouth to respond, but instead of anything he would have wanted to say, his system took over. “Broken finger joint. Circuits needing replaced.”

“Hey! That’s an android!”

“What?” “Android!”

“Over there!”

Ethan yanked back, using the element of surprise to wrench himself free. The Laemran attempted to reach out and grab him again, but Ethan was gone. He bolted towards the back of the bar, the exit closer than the entrance he had come through. The others in the bar made a mad dash towards him. Swarming, attempting to grab him.

It wasn’t any use. There were too many between him and the door. They grabbed him, yanking him back.

“Let go!” Ethan cried. “Fucking fuck off! Let go!”

For a moment, he struggled.

BANG!

The room went silent and everything froze as a gunshot went off. Ethan’s head whipped around. The bartender - an elderly Laemran woman - held a long gun. A hole rained down little bits of wood and stone above her from where she had shot. She glared at the bar.

“No fights in my fucking bar,” she snapped. Her voice was deep and gravelly, like she’d gargled nails.

“But, Ovtsa!” a Laemran holding Ethan’s leg protested. “It’s… it’s an android!”

“In my bar,” she retorted. “Now hand him over.”

The patrons grumbled, but a sharp cocking of the gun had them scrambling to push Ethan towards her. He attempted to struggle, but they easily passed him from hand to hand until he stood before her. Ovtsa lowered her gun until it was pointed between his eyes.

“Go back to your drinks,” she addressed the bar, keeping her own eyes trained on Ethan. “You. Robot boy. Into the back room.”

“I’m not a robot,” Ethan muttered, but did as she directed. The others glared at him, but begrudgingly went back to their meals and drinks. The gun was pressed into the small of Ethan’s back, and the two went into the back room.

As the door closed behind them, locking with a loud click, a lamp turned on. The room was small, covered in papers and books. A thick desk sat in the center, an even thicker chair behind it. A few barrels sat in the far corners of the room, each labeled with different dates.

Ovtsa walked past Ethan and took a seat in the large chair, making it creak slightly.

“I presume you’re looking for the other one.” She narrowed her eyes at him.

Ethan blinked. “Wha… what?”

“The android. Blank, if I remember correctly. You look exactly like him.”

“He’s my brother,” Ethan said. “I’ve been trying to find him. There was a ping from here with his ID.”

Ovtsa huffed and nodded slowly. She leaned back in the seat, templing her fingers. “Yes. Unfortunately for him, those bastards out there got their hands on him before I could. They managed to turn on his tracking. Always eager to sell off an android.”

“Isn’t… that’s illegal. How do the GAAP not stop them?” Ethan asked.

Ovtsa huffed again, this time with a grim humor. “GAAP doesn’t give a flying fuck. We’re a small trading planet on the outer rim. GAAP only cares that we keep up trades. Doesn’t matter what we’re trading as long as money is moving along. And androids? Out here, they fetch a pretty manieta.”

Ethan gulped. “Are you going to sell me?”

“Fuck no,” Ovtsa said, spitting on the floor. “Unlike the rest of my miserable species, I tend to see the life in your kind. I refuse to partake in this bastardization of existence. Any android who comes through my doors will be helped to the best of my abilities.”

“What about Blank?”

“Got him off world,” Ovtsa answered. “A bit uncomfortably, seeing as he had to be stuffed in a crate to avoid any prying eyes, but he got out. Avoided those idiotic GAAP robots too. Best I could do for the poor kid. Sent him off to Sharjól. Those people have a good android community. Someone who could help.”

Sharjól.

Ethan nodded. “I need to go there. Now.”

“Hold your damn cavolli,” Ovtsa said. “I’m going to have to arrange this. I run a fucking tavern, not a trading shop. You’re going to have to wait until I bribe my usual to help get you out of here. In the meantime-” She opened up a drawer. Pulling out a box, she pushed it towards him.

Ethan hesitantly took it. He turned it around, and opened it. His stomach dropped.

“No,” he said. “I’m not doing that.”

“It’s not real,” Ovtsa said. “It’ll look like an inhibitor, but it won’t track you and it wont shut you down if you leave. It’s just to fool those idiots out there. I don’t have any spare rooms to hide you away in, so for the meantime you’re going to have to play the part and help me until I can help you.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Ethan picked up the small band, looking over the interlocking green and silver metal.

“You don’t have a choice. It’s either me and a chance to get off this planet, or them. And believe me, kid, they won’t hesitate to sell you off for parts.”

Ethan hated this. He was completely helpless and at the hands of a grouchy, ancient Laemran who kept spitting on the floor. He was so close to finding Blank, and yet he had never felt farther from him.

Letting out a resigned sigh, Ethan took the hopefully-fake inhibitor and clamped it over his wrist.

“You’d better be right.”

.

.

Mark stood at the edge of the beach, just out of reach of the gently lapping water.

His stomach twisted painfully.

The wind had settled down, and the clouds thinned just enough to let a few rays of sunlight dance on the ocean’s surface. The birds circled something in the distance, taking turns diving into the water before resurfacing and going again.

Mark looked back at the island.

He could see the top of the Collective’s building peaking out from the tops of the trees. The barren, fruitless trees. He’d searched for something to eat as long as he could, and all he’d managed to find was a small, bowl-like plant that held a small reserve of freshwater.

At least he wasn’t dying of thirst anymore.

The ocean playfully splashed Mark’s feet. Cold.

He could see the point of his ship still sticking out of the ocean. Closer than he thought he had crashed. Doubtful, but maybe he could salvage a comm. Contact anyone to get him off this planet.

And with the lack of food… it seemed like the Collective was right after all. He was going to have to take the jump into the ocean.

Fuck.

Mark took a deep breath.

And he stepped off the edge of the island.

It wasn’t as deep as he’d thought, but he still sank all the way over his head. He quickly swam up. He sputtered and coughed, paddling quickly to keep himself afloat. Something brushed against his foot, and it took all his self control not to go scrambling back onto the island.

“It’s fine,” Mark told himself. “It’s the shallows. Nothing here. Nothing creepy here.”

He took another breath, and ducked under.

With the daylight streaming down, the ocean looked much less threatening. Still an open void of death, but at least he could see it. A few schools of fish swam nearby. Colored blue and pink, they dove through the tendrils of vines and arcs of glowing rocks. A shelled creature slightly larger than Mark’s head approached him curiously, short tentacles reaching towards his face.

Nope!

Mark frantically ducked out of the way, swimming under the animal and towards his ship. It seemed to lose interest the moment he was out of range of its grasp. After a few more quick kicks, Mark was on top of the ship. He dove up to get one more gasp of air, then dove down.

The door laid on the sandy floor nearly a yard from where the ship was. The pressure had blown it off. Peering inside, Mark winced. It was trashed. Scorch marks marred deep into the dash from the flames, and technology had died the moment the water had hit it. There was nothing salvageable.

Mark still grabbed his travel bag. Soaked, but it still had a few things in it that might help. Spare change of clothes, and maybe some food. The comm might not be too damaged. That is, if he remembered to put it in an airtight container.

He slung the pack over his shoulder and pushed off the sandy floor, quickly swimming back to shore.

Once back on dry land, Mark dumped the bag on the ground and began looking through its contents.

“Clothes… okay good, food…” Mark held up a soggy sandwich by its corner, “destroyed… too waterlogged... oh!” He pulled out a ten minute meal. Its packaging had saved it. He only had one, but it was better than nothing. “Good, good. Now I swore I put it in here…”

After a few more seconds of pawing through the bag and tossing out soaking wet clothes, he pulled out the comm. It was in a waterproof casing. Mark could have cried.

“Oh thank fucking god!” Mark yanked the casing off. Flipping it on, He turned on the SOS.

For a moment, it blinked. Then it said, “Signal Lost. No Transmission Available.”

Mark stared.

He was too far away. There was nobody close enough to pick up his signal.

He was completely alone.

Mark resisted the urge to throw the comm as far as he could into the ocean. Instead, he tossed it on the ground and yelled. Yelled and yelled and yelled until his throat was hoarse. When he didn’t feel like yelling anymore, he grabbed his things and stood. Mark stalked back to the Collective’s building.

He was going to make this stupid meal and then he was going to figure this out.

He would not be stuck here to die.

Mark Edward Fischbach would not die alone.

.

.

Ovsta handed over the pack, gnarled hands shaky slightly. She smiled quickly at Ethan. “Here, boy. Take this.”

Ethan took the pack and peeked inside. An assortment of basic tools and circuitry that was easily replaceable. A few little odds and ends, but basic equipment to help if he got damaged again along the way. Ethan closed the pack and returned the smile.

“Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”

“Oh, shut your yap,” she said, huffing and pushing him towards the shuttle. He did see a hint of a smile on her wrinkled old face, though. “It’s the least I could do.”

Ethan climbed aboard. He turned and waved as the door closed, giving one last beaming grin to Ovsta before the door closed and he was left in darkness.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the light. Coming up behind him was a robot, light green markings running down its arms and face. “Please, follow me. I shall show you to your place.”

Ethan followed the robot. It moved between the crating until they reached a little alcove for the two to sit, letting Ethan sit alongside it as they took off. It was better than being stuck in one of the crates. Ovsta had managed to find another sympathetic Laemran who agreed to smuggle Ethan off world. Not to the planet he needed to find Blank, but close enough.

He was on his way.

“We’re approaching a debris field,” a soft, deep voice said from overhead. “I’d recommend you all find something to hold onto. It’s going to be a bit bumpy.” The robot Ethan had followed quickly held onto a railing along the wall, and Ethan followed suit, glancing around to find where the voice had come from. He’d met the Laemran that was piloting, but this wasn’t his voice.

“Hello?” Ethan called, not quite sure where to direct it. “Who just spoke?”

“Oh!” The voice seemed to be coming from a speaker in the ceiling. “You’re new, aren’t you? I suppose I should introduce myself, then, yes?”

“Yeah, where are you?” Ethan asked, tightening his grip on the railing as the ship jolted.

“I’m afraid I don’t really have a body like yours,” the voice hummed apologetically. “My name is HAGIS, and I’m this ship’s AI.”

“HAGIS?” Ethan echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“Handling and Guidance Instructional System,” HAGIS explained. “Pleasure to meet you, er, I don’t think I caught your name?”

“I don’t think I dropped it,” Ethan teased. HAGIS was silent. Ethan cleared his throat. “I’m Ethan.”

“Well, it’s delightful to meet you,” HAGIS said politely. “If you ever need anything, simply call, and I’ll be sure to do what I can.” The ship jostled again as it dove underneath a large chunk of debris. Ethan yelped and clutched the railing. “Sorry,” HAGIS said once the ship had steadied. “I should have warned you about that.”

“It’s okay,” Ethan said, still gripping the rail tightly with both hands. “So, uh, what’s your job, HAGIS?”

“Well, like I said earlier, I’m the ship’s AI,” HAGIS began. “I make sure everything’s in working order, and help guide us to our destination. Luvtos has been my companion for as long as I’ve existed, and I keep an eye on things that he cannot.”

Ethan nodded as HAGIS spoke. “So you’re just… part of the ship? Like, it’s your body?” Ethan hadn’t gotten to meet many AIs since, well, ever, and the only one he’d really gotten to know had extreme murderous intent.

“I… I suppose you could put it that way,” HAGIS answered. “It feels more like the ship is my- my home. I move around inside her systems. We’re part of the same whole, yes, but we’re also two different entities.”

“Can you talk to the ship?”

“Now that’s a question I haven’t heard before,” HAGIS chuckled. “No, I don’t think so. Not in the way that you and I are talking right now, that is. I simply understand her. I just know when things are wrong or right, and then I can communicate them to Luvtos.”

“Would you-” Ethan hesitated. “Sorry if this sounds rude, but do you ever want a real body? Like, one you could walk around in and stuff? I think I’d get cramped being stuck in one inanimate object all the time.”

“And you don’t get cramped inside your body?” HAGIS countered. “No, I’ve never wanted a ‘real body,’ as you put it. I don’t feel confined inside the ship. I still get to travel around and meet people, same as you.” He paused. “Brace yourself. Debris on the left.”

Ethan hugged the wall as the ship dove to the right, and stumbled when it reoriented itself. “Do you ever get lonely?” Ethan asked, looking up at the speaker.

HAGIS hummed and hawed for a second. “No, I don’t think so,” the AI responded finally. “I’ve always had Luvtos, and when he leaves, the ship powers down. I think that would be comparable to organic species’ sleep.”

Ethan shuddered at the thought of being put to sleep every time he was left alone. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with. “Did Luvtos program you himself?”

HAGIS laughed, a low, jittery laugh that echoed around the ship. “Heavens, no! Luvtos can hardly work a microwave, let alone program an AI!” He let out an amused sigh. “No, I was pre-programmed and then installed into the ship. And I’m very grateful for where I ended up. I very well could have ended up on some GAAP ship, and I’ve heard plenty of how bored those AIs get. Almost nothing to do on those ships, just steer and make sure they reach their destination. I’ve heard-” HAGIS lowered his tone, almost conspiratorially- “I’ve heard that the AIs are hardly even spoken to unless need be, like they’re not even there!”

Ethan nodded knowingly. Not being able to speak without being spoken to first… it was a lonely life. He’d been lucky to have Blank, even if it was just for a short time. “You really got the luck of the draw, huh?”

“I’d like to say I did,” HAGIS replied, and Ethan could practically hear the pride in the AI’s voice. “I’m very fortunate to have a friend like Luvtos.”

“Yeah, he seems-”

“Hold on tight!” HAGIS interrupted frantically. “Heavy debris incoming!”

Ethan wrapped his arms around the railing as the ship flew every which direction, threatening to slam him against its walls if he dared to even loosen his grip a little bit. The robot looked almost bored with the whole thing, and only held on with one hand. Ethan frowned. Probably had magnets or something.

Ethan shakily let go of the rail as the ship finally steadied and slowed down. He could hear HAGIS’s voice somewhere in the back of the ship, muttering what sounded like ingredients to some pastry to himself.

“HAGIS?” Ethan called, taking a hold of the rail again as the ship lurched left.

“Yes?” HAGIS responded almost immediately, his voice suddenly directly above Ethan again. “You didn’t get damaged, did you? You look fine to me, but you’re not connected to the ship, so I can’t really tell.”

“I’m fine, I think,” Ethan said, soothing the worried AI and running a quick system check. Yeah, he was fine. “How’s the ship?”

HAGIS let out a tired sigh. “She’s alright. Caught a few scrapes, and a couple crates got jostled around more than I’d like, but she’ll make the rest of the trip just fine. She’s gotten through worse.”

“That’s good,” Ethan said. He wondered what it would be like to be able to get such a quick assessment of damages. Whenever the Barrel got hit, they’d have to stop their trip and all check around to make sure that they’d be able to keep going without having to make repairs. They usually didn’t have to check often when Tyler or Kathryn were piloting, but Mark tended to be a bit more reckless, despite being the best pilot of all of them. They’d had to stop on an asteroid hardly larger than the Barrel itself once to fix a few vital panels, just because Mark thought he could squeeze through a donut-shaped asteroid.

“We should be touching down on Vox’pra in just a few minutes,” HAGIS announced suddenly, interrupting Ethan’s thoughts. “It’s been lovely getting to talk to you, Ethan.”

Ethan smiled up at the speaker and steadied himself against the rail as the ship began to descend.

“Nice talking with you too.” He pulled the pack onto his shoulder as he stood. The ship landed with a thud. The robot next to him didn’t move, and Ethan moved through the crates towards the end of the ship. The ramp slowly cracked open, lowering to reveal a bustling hub of robots and beings alike, rushing about their jobs.

“Take care,” HAGIS said. “Don’t become uncomfortable in your little body.”

Ethan saluted and stepped off.

The crowds were dense, but Ethan reached out and snatched a spindly robot from among them. “Hey, sorry. Can you tell me where the nearest transport station is?”

“That way,” the robot pointed down the long hallway lined with ships unloading. “Take the very last right onto the mainway. It is labeled clearly.”

“Thanks!” Ethan said, and took off.

He was getting closer.

.

.

“Does that taste good?”

Mark grumbled around his little pre-prepared meal. It didn’t taste good, but it had stopped the incessant growls of his stomach, so he could deal. The Collective took his silence as room to ask more questions. Mark shoved more food into his mouth as they continued.

“You did not receive food from the ocean. I suppose a substitute was found aboard your ship. It does not look appetizing. Is it to your kind?”

“Not really,” Mark said around a mouthful.

“Then why do you eat it?”

“Because I don’t want to die.”

“Ah,” the Collective said. “I suppose your kind is prone to fighting to the end. Never giving up, as it were.”

“Did you give up?”

“There was a point of no return. There was no reason to keep fighting for the continued survival of a few dying beings. We retreated to who we are now. It was not so much giving up as realizing that we had no other option. But you do not seem to share those thoughts.”

“Not especially,” Mark said, finishing off the last of the pre-prepared meal. “I don’t intend on dying here, or in the near future. I have a lot I have to do. There are people depending on me that I cannot let down. And I kind of like living, despite how shit it is right now. So no, I’m not giving up.”

The Collective seemed to think about that for a moment. Mark leaned back against the wall. It was strangely warm. Like there was something else just below the surface, like hot water or lava. It was comforting. As he relaxed into it, letting his eyes slowly close, the Collective dimmed as well.

“What do you intend to do with your life?” it asked quietly. “Who can you not let down? There are millions of others out there who could replace you. Why not just stop? Let go and sleep on forever?”

“For one, I got a doppelganger of mine that needs to shut the fuck up,” Mark said. “He’s going to do a lot more damage if I don’t do something. I can’t just let him do that, especially when I have a chance to help others. He’s not going to stop, and neither am I.”

Mark looked down at his hands. “And I got friends. Family. People I care about that I need… I need them. They need me too. One of my friends is out there, looking for his brother. Hopefully he’s not in a situation like this.”

Ethan had to be okay. He had to be. Mark refused to believe that Ethan had died in that freak accident. If he had made it, then so had Ethan. He had survived and was looking for Blank. And soon Mark would join him again. As soon as he figured out how to get off this dumb planet.

“You care for the individuals?” The Collective sounded confused.

“Of course,” Mark said. “Nobody is ever nothing. I used to think that, but not anymore. I’m not nothing. I’m not nothing, and neither is anyone else.”

Mark looked up at the Collective. It did seem like it was made of living stone, but there was technology under it. There was a way this all worked.

“I’ve been trying to call off world,” Mark said, pulling out the comm. “But its signal isn’t reaching any planets nearby. Is there anywhere I could boost the signal?”

The Collective was silent.

“Hey, come on!” Mark said, not bothering to get to his feet. He was too tired for that, but he always had the energy to yell at unresponsive assholes. “I need to get out of here. Do you have any comm boosters?”

More silence.

“Fine, don’t answer,” Mark huffed. He folded his arms and tucked himself into a corner. “I’m going to take a nap, but when I wake up I’m getting answers.”

The lights steadied at a barely visible glow as Mark drifted off, mind racing with all his plans to get off this planet.

.

.

The planet was completely mechanical. Ethan had never been on a man-made planet, but it was freaking him out. He could feel the entire planet humming beneath his feet, large gears and circuits working constantly beneath the surface. Buildings were attached to the ground, traveling miles below the surface or miles above. Transports ducked and weaved through it all seamlessly. All lights came from the city. The planet was too far away from their sun to gather much natural light. So far, Ethan had seen nearly no organic beings. At least, none that lived without mechanical assistance. He’d even seen dogs with cyborg replacements, like Henry. The entire place seemed to run on the objective of creating more and more.

It was amazing.

After asking around a bit, Ethan found that everyone who lived on the planet was registered at the planet center. Fortunately not literally at the center, but close enough. It was far enough away from him that Ethan was going to have to take transport.

Stepping onto one of the hovertrains, Ethan automatically reached to pull out his credit card. The driver - a sleek robot with golden seams and bright yellow eyes -  made a confused whirring noise.

“I am sorry, sir,” it said. “We do not accept currency.”

“Oh, I got some outer rim coin if that…”

“No,” the robot said. “We do not accept currency. All is paid. Enjoy your ride.”

Ethan was taken aback for a moment, but moved to take a seat near the doorway.

The train started moving seamlessly along an invisible track. Not a jolt or sudden movement. Just smooth. Through the windows that stretched from roof to floor, Ethan saw the city move by. A technological masterpiece. A well-oiled machine. It was breathtaking.

As Ethan glanced around the train, he realized few others seemed to be as stunned by the scenery as he was. Most chatted idly or glanced down at screens in their hands. A pair of older, rustier-looking androids, though, were pressed up against the windows, mouths agape in awe. It was obvious who was from Sharjól, and who wasn’t.

Ethan glanced down at his comm.

0 New Messages from Mark Fishboy.

He sighed and tucked it back in his pocket. Every night since the accident, he’d sent a message to Mark. Asking him where he was. If he was okay. Did he make it out okay? Was he alive?

There was never a response.

The train began slowing down as it started pulling into the station. Ethan got to his feet, joining the small crowd gathering around the doors. He ended up wedged between a small black and teal Korop with cybernetic legs and a towering android in a model he’d never seen before. The moment the doors opened, the Korop darted through them. Ethan followed the other android into the city.

It wasn’t hard to spot City Center. It was labeled with large blocky letters, sitting in the center of a metal garden. Fake plants with silvery leaves decorated the entrance. Ethan shook out the tension in his shoulders and walked forwards.

Inside it was quiet. Nearly nobody else sat in the waiting room. A slender android woman with tendril-like hair attached from her head to her desk spoke into a comm, answering questions while several other strands of her hair wrote things down. As Ethan got closer she looked up and smiled. Her name tag read: Juno Argenti.

“Hello,” she said, her voice light and pleasant. “How may I help you?”

“I’m looking for my brother,” Ethan said. He pulled out his comm, tapping through it until he found Blank’s file. He showed it to her. One of her tenderals reached out and took the comm, taking the information. “He’s the same make and model. First one, actually.”

“Ah, yes,” Juno said. She smiled at him and handed the comm back. “Blank has taken up residence in our lower city. He should be getting done with his shift down below in just a few minutes. I can arrange a transport to take you to his living quarters if you would like to wait here.”

“Sure,” Ethan said, letting out a breath of relief as he pocketed his comm. “Thanks.”

“A pleasure to help.” Juno smiled.

Ethan turned back and walked a bit away. He sat down on a large black cushion. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to yell with joy or tap his foot off with nervousness. He was so close. Ethan hadn’t been this close to Blank in… well… years. Not since he’d shut down and Ethan had run away.

Within a few minutes, Juno told him his ride was here. Ethan thanked her again, and walked outside to find a small car waiting. No driver. Ethan hesitantly climbed into the chair. As soon as he strapped in, the car began to move.

“Uh… do you have an AI?” Ethan asked, feeling a little stupid.

No response.

“Cool.” Ethan sat ramrod straight in the seat. “Cool, cool, cool.”

The car moved through the streets, but soon was entering the underground. It was just as illuminated as above ground, but there was no expanse of artificial sky above now. Just metal walls on all sides.

They traveled for a long time. A lot longer than Ethan had been expecting. They went deeper and deeper, past endless rows of buildings. Ethan could feel himself wearing a hole in his shoes with all the nervous tapping.

There were even more people down here. They didn’t look as immaculate or presentable as those above ground. He saw a few cyborgs with what looked like self-replaced parts. A robot missing half its arm leaped up on legs made of rickety springs, into the air to catch a ball tossed by a small group of children. They didn’t look entirely worse off. Nobody was missing vital parts, and no cyborg appeared worse for wear than those above. It was just obvious this was where the manual labor of this planet happened, and they didn’t care to put on a show of cleanliness.

It was like a clock. A smooth, beautiful face, while underneath was where all the gears were that made it work, seamlessly ticking away.

Finally, the car slowed to a stop in front of a smaller apartment building. A few windows glowed with light from the inside, but most were dark, indicating that a majority of the residents weren’t home. Most likely they were working, or just out running errands.

The door snapped open. Ethan stepped out, shouldering his pack. The door closed, and the car pulled away.

It wasn’t a bad house. As Ethan looked up at it, he realized how personal it felt. Above ground everything had been streamlined and clean. These houses down here weren’t as uniform. Each one had its own unique style and appearance. It felt homey.

Ethan walked up and knocked on the door. No answer. He hadn’t really been expecting one, so he turned and plopped down on the front step.

How long had Blank been living here? He’d escaped off of Dommal nearly a year ago, but for how long had he been a normal person here? How long had Blank been free to find his own work? How long had he had the ability to choose how he lived?

It had taken Ethan a while to figure out how he fit in the world. Kathryn had helped a lot with that, but it was still a learning curve. Blank hadn’t had anyone.

Being alone like that… Ethan couldn’t imagine it.

He stood up and knocked again, hoping that at least one of the residents would answer the door.

Nothing.

Ethan groaned and sat down again. A small trickle of people had started walking past. Ethan saw more organics in the crowd, mainly ones with replaced limbs, but a few without. A fair amount of robots and androids as well. Several gave him wary looks as they passed. They knew he wasn’t one of them.

Ethan waved as they passed. He wasn’t here to cause trouble.

The crowd grew in size. Not a single blue and gray android among them. Several groups split off towards their homes, but not one came near Ethan.

Ethan let his head fall onto his knees. God, he hated waiting.

“E-Ethan?”

Ethan’s head snapped up.

Blank stood at the foot of the stairs, staring up at him slack jawed. His whited-out eyes were wide. Grease stains covered his overalls, and his hair was mussed up. He looked… he looked good. An android had no organic ability to look healthy, but there was something about him. He looked so much more alive than he ever had before. Awake, and alive.

“Blank,” Ethan breathed back.

For a moment they just stared at each other.

Then Ethan launched himself off the steps. He crashed into Blank, his arms wrapping around him and pulling him close. Blank’s own hands clutched the back of Ethan’s hoodie. They held onto each other, slightly rocking with the force of Ethan’s leap. Their hands were tightly clenched into each others clothes.

Neither wanted to let go.

“I missed you,” Ethan said, voice choked.

“I missed you too,” Blank said back.

Neither let go.

.

.

“Mark.”

“No.”

“Mark.”

“Leave me alone.”

“Mark.”

“Five fucking minutes.”

“Mark.”

“Goddammit, what do you want?” Mark rolled over, glaring at the Collective. It pulsed slightly brighter as his eyes adjusted.

“We have something to tell you,” it said. It paused, several voices murmuring anxiously. “I- we- have decided to let you leave- go- go home.”

“Oh, thanks for your permission,” Mark said, grumpily pushing himself up. “How am I supposed to leave?”

“By summoning help with your communication device.” The Collective paused for a moment. “It will be able to reach help. The planet has been blocking the signal.”

Mark groaned.

Of course it had been blocking his call.

“Can you just unblock it?” Mark asked.

“No,” the Collective said apologetically. “You must travel to where the last of us- of me created the blockage. It shall be easy to disable with my help, but you must do this.”

“Great,” Mark said, rubbing his hands together with anticipation. “Where is it?”

The Collective hummed for a second. “It- it’s on the next island,” they said softly, as if they knew Mark wouldn’t like the answer.

They were right.

“And where’s that?” Mark groaned. He had been hoping it would just be on top of the Collective’s building. Swimming across the ocean was definitely not going to be a fun trip. “I haven’t seen any other islands since I landed here.”

“About a day’s travel from here by our estimates,” the Collective answered. “Due east.”

Mark pulled out his comm, wacking it a few times until a small compass wavered above its surface. Stupid thing was running out of charge. He’d really have to be quick if he wanted to get out of here. Due east was the opposite side of the island from where his ship had crashed.

“I can’t swim for a whole day,” Mark pointed out, stuffing his comm back in his pocket. “I’ll-” He shuddered- “I’ll drown.”

“You are part Ir’al, are you not?” the Collective asked.

Mark huffed. “Yeah. Unfortunately I only got my dad’s rugged good looks, not his swimming abilities.”

“Of course,” the Collective replied, a few quieter voices chuckling just loud enough for Mark to hear. “There should be an old transport a few levels below. It might be able to take you part of the journey, although we doubt that at its age, it will be able to take you all the way to the other island unless you repair it.”

“Okay,” Mark said, slightly reassured. He’d probably be able to figure out how this pod or whatever worked. “What if I get lost? I’ll be completely alone out there. I could get turned around, and then not be able to find my way back at all.” Mark shivered as he thought about being completely stranded in the middle of the ocean in an ancient dive pod.

“We will be able to communicate through the transport,” the Collective assured. “I understand you do not love the ocean as we do, and I will not leave you alone.”

A smaller door behind Mark suddenly slid open, disrupting any further questions he may have had. Soft blue lights flared to life, descending down a spiral staircase. Mark squinted up at the Collective before starting down the steps.

Fortunately, the door did not close behind him, and the lights stayed on until Mark reached a large, dimly lit room. A single orb-shaped pod, barely larger than Mark, sat at a single dock, a dark red moss covering its top. A few blue, curved markings decorated the border of a single window. Mark placed his hand on its side, careful to avoid the moss, and the markings illuminated, giving off a pleasant blue glow. A hatch opened on the top, causing the moss to slide off and a putrid smell to be released. Mark took a step back and covered his mouth and nose while the pod aired out. This thing was really old.

“It is perfectly safe,” the Collective said, voice echoing from both the top of the stairs and from inside the small pod.

“You sure about that?”

“Certain.”

“Didn’t you say it’d probably break down halfway to the island?”

“We said I wasn’t sure,” the Collective corrected. “Now that you’ve woken it up, we can tell that it is in perfect running order. It should get you to the island and back with no trouble, so long as you drive carefully.”

Mark hated when people told him to do anything carefully, but he hated the ocean more, and this thing was his only protection from the crushing blue death only a few feet away.

“Fine,” Mark sighed. He wafted away what remained of the musty stench before stepping inside. The interior was cold and slightly damp, and the same red moss covered the steering and a few panels. Mark yelped as the top suddenly slammed shut and the pod sank into the water with a muffled suctioning sound. He quickly brushed the moss off the wheel and panels - one of which showed a helpful compass - and steered the pod out of the cave and into the open ocean.

“It is lovely to see the ocean like this again,” the Collective murmured wistfully as Mark glared at the tentacled creature from before. “It has been so long since we have been able to see it for ourselves.”

“I’d consider that lucky,” Mark huffed, pushing the wheel forward. The pod jerked slightly before picking up a little more speed.

“This will be a long journey,” the Collective said, the blue lines on the interior of the pod pulsing as they spoke.

Mark nodded, regretting not packing something to eat. It wasn’t like he had much of a beach to throw a makeshift rod from.

“We… we do not know that much about you,” the Collective began hesitantly. “You have friends and family, yes? And a, er, ‘doppelganger’?”

“Yeah,” Mark answered, feeling a sudden sense of loneliness as he pictured his crew. “There’s my girlfriend, Amy. She’s really smart and talented and beautiful. I don’t know what I’d do without her. Then there’s Tyler, who’s been my best friend since I was a kid. I think I’d be dead if he weren’t around. Ethan’s an android. He’s a pretty good doctor, and right now he’s looking for his brother, Blank. I- I hope they’ve found each other. There’s Kathryn, too. She’s super smart and really good with computers. She can also beat everyone at any board game ever. Oh, and Bing, too. He’s a robot my friend Jack built for me. He’s supposed to be an intelligence robot, but mostly he just hangs out with Ethan and makes a mess. He’s really good with my Dulcosi, Chica, and Amy’s dog, Henry. Jack’s a self-proclaimed pirate, and he’s got an entirely homemade crew. He also- well, I probably shouldn’t mention that.”

The Collective hummed softly. “You care. Each one of them, you care for them.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, feeling suddenly defensive. “Is that a problem?”

“No?” the Collective responded, sounding confused. “Caring- it is a wonderful thing. Those who do not care… they live an unfortunate life.”

Mark chuckled darkly and steered the pod around a school of thin gold and red fish. “Sounds like that doppelganger I mentioned.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Mark continued, “His name’s Dark, or at least, that’s what he told us. I don’t know his real name, and I don’t really care to know. He’s a Xanhull, and he took some of my DNA one time and so now he looks like me. Exactly like me.” Mark shuddered with disgust. “It’s freaky.”

“You mentioned he was going to do damage,” the Collective prompted. “What is he going to do?”

“I- we don’t know,” Mark sighed, drumming his fingers on the wheel. “We just know that he wants something to do with a Celestial, and he’s going to hurt a lot of people if he gets his way. He did a lot of bad stuff in the past too, and my crew is in charge of catching him and turning him in to the GAAP.”

“What did he do?”

Mark opened his mouth to respond, then closed it. What had Dark done? “He- well, he attacked me for no reason,” Mark said, suddenly feeling a little awkward. “Oh! He killed a bunch of GAAP personnel too. He stole my friend, Sean’s, robot too.”

The Collective hummed thoughtfully. “He sounds… unpleasant.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” Mark huffed. “He doesn’t care about anyone but himself, and he wants to destroy the GAAP. He hates them for no reason, and he refuses to see the good that they’ve done. I get that he’s, like, super fucking old, but that doesn’t give him any excuse to be a stuck up bastard. He hates androids, too. He thinks they’re just tools.”

“That sounds terrible,” the Collective said. “Why would he want to destroy so much?”

“I don’t know,” Mark said. “Probably just because he’s a bitter piece of shit who can’t see past his own nose. I wish I could never see him again, but if I don’t track him down, then he’ll kill even more people. I can’t let that happen.”

“It is unfortunate we did not meet sooner,” the Collective sighed.

“Why?”

“I think you could have saved us.”

Mark hesitated. “You said when we met that you were dying. You died and you were continuing to die.”

“The Collective will continue on as long as our system stands,” they said. “But there is nothing here for us but continued existence. I am nothing but my people, continuing on as a collection. I shall not die, but all that means is that our culture will eventually fade.”

For a moment, the Collective paused.

Mark stared out at the ocean. This used to be someone’s home. And now it was just a cruel reminder to a shadow of those people of what they used to have.

“We never valued the individual as you do, Mark,” the Collective said. “To us, it was our entirety that mattered. Before we were this collective, we cared for the masses and not for those belonging to them. When we started dying, we resorted to this. Never mind those of us who remained. They joined the Collective. We survive on as a group.”

“No offense,” Mark said, wrinkling his nose, “but that sounds terrible.”

“To you, perhaps. But to us it was only natural. It is strange to see one like you value the bricks that make up the house. Why not just admire the house, instead of its many details? In the end it makes the same house.”

“And without all the bricks, there is no house,” Mark said.

The Collective was quiet for a moment.

Mark leaned back, his arms folded. Despite his thrilling existential moral debate with a bodiless collection of thousands of dead people, Mark was terrified. His fingers were digging into his arms. This pod was holding steady, but he couldn’t help but feel it was about ready to break at any moment.

“You are strange, Mark.”

“I’ve been told that a lot,” Mark answered. “How close are we?”

“It will be a while. Please get comfortable.”

“Yeah, right,” Mark said, snorting. Still, he leaned back and watched the ocean go by.

Just a few more hours, and he’d be off this horrible planet.

.

.

“I’m sorry it’s not much.”

“It’s great,” Ethan said, turning around in a circle. Blank smiled as Ethan darted about his room, looking at all the plants sitting under their lights. The room was shabby, and barely disguised as habitable. Most of it was covered in plants. A small charging port was shoved up against a back wall. A small shelf held a collection of holo-books. The rest was cement and shitty wallpaper.

“It’s hard to get water for the plants sometimes,” Blank admitted softly. “The organics are a little more understanding about them than the other androids and robots, though, so they’ll help me get it when I need it.”

“Where’d you get them all?” Ethan asked, gingerly rubbing the leaf of a larger plant. He hadn’t seen any living plants on the surface, or on his ride down.

“Visitors,” Blank answered, sitting down in front of a small flower with a single yellow blossom. “They’ll bring plants with them sometimes, or just seeds. Usually they don’t last, but I rescue the ones I can.”

“I never knew you liked plants so much,” Ethan said, feeling slightly ashamed of himself. How well did he know his own brother?

“You never really got a chance to,” Blank said reassuringly. “He- he didn’t really let us figure out what we liked. I’m glad you got out of there when you did.”

Ethan shoved his hands in his pockets so he didn’t rip the leaves off of one of Blank’s plants. “I left you behind,” he mumbled, staring down at his feet. “I- I didn’t even look back. I thought you were dead. I didn’t think you would come back. I didn’t even think you could come back.”

Ethan didn’t hear Blank stand up and walk over to him. He jumped when his older brother placed his hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t know,” Blank said gently. “That last time I shut down, I- I remember thinking that I was never going to come back. I was scared. I was so afraid, because I knew if I stopped working, he’d work you even harder, and I didn’t want you to die too.”

“I ran.”

“Good.”

“I was a coward. I left you behind, when I should have known that you would have come back eventually.”

“No,” Blank grabbed Ethan’s shoulders, forcing him to face him. “You did the right thing. You left. We should have left so much sooner than you did. You did what was best for you, and now you’re safe. We’re safe.”

Ethan reluctantly smiled.

Blank let him go and stepped back. “I… I do still shut down sometimes. I can’t control it. Something up here.” He tapped the side of his head. “It just broke. I’ve had a few android mechs look at it and they can’t fix it. Well, they can, but it’s bonkers expensive, even here. It’s fine, I can get by. But I am still… I am still broken.”

“I’d rather have you broken and alive than broken and dead,” Ethan said.

Blank smiled. “Yeah. Me too.”

“You have to come with me,” Ethan said eagerly. “I found a family. They’re great, and they���re waiting to meet you! There is Kathryn, and Tyler, and Jack, and Mark, and Amy, and the dogs, and…”

Blank continued to smile as Ethan rambled on and on about his new family. He told them all about them. The adventures they’d had, the things they shared, the sense of belonging that Ethan had finally found. That feeling that he wanted Blank to have. As he talked, he saw Blank slowly brighten.

“You… you really think they’d have me?” Blank asked, hesitantly.

“Of fucking course!” Ethan said. “These guys are just as fucked up as we are. Come on. Come back with me.”

Blank hesitated, looking around his little room.

“We can take all the plants too, if you want,” Ethan said.

Blank shook his head. “No. I can find others later. These belong here. I have a neighbor who will watch over them. They like them too. I… I need to leave my past behind me. I want a fresh start. Just like you.”

Ethan nodded, a broad grin splitting his face as he grabbed Blank’s jacket and dragged him into a hug.

“I’m so glad you’re alive. Everything is going to be just fine from now on. I promise.”

Blank hugged him back.

Ethan finally had his brother back.

He finally had the last piece of his home back.

.

.

Mark stared up at the sheer cliff face.

“I’m supposed to climb that?”

“Well, there should be a path if you dive under the island, but climbing is certainly an option, should you chose it.”

Mark shook his head quickly and pushed down on the wheel. The pod hiccuped before diving. He’d caught a glimpse before, but he hadn’t realized until now that the island was supported by large columns, not unlike the one the Collective lived in. Was ‘lived’ the right word?

It didn’t take him long to find the cave’s entrance, and he scrambled out of the pod as soon as he could, eager to get out of and away from the ocean. It lapped threateningly at the rocky shore, and Mark stuck his tongue out at it.

Suddenly, the whole island hummed, and blue markings that had previously been hidden suddenly pulsed with a bright blue light.

“The blockage is just up ahead,” the Collective’s voice hummed around Mark, echoing through the cave. “It is easy to get lost here, so make sure you follow our lights.”

Mark nodded and started walking. The cave veered off into several winding paths, but only one was steadily illuminated by the blue glow. The farther Mark got from the pod, the more lonely it felt. The Collective’s presence was left behind in the ship; now it was just him.

The tunnel, after several divergences and twists, came out in a small room. In the center of the room was a console. As Mark stepped into the room it came alive. Blue markings all over it lit up, and a soft hum filled the air.

“Guess this is it,” Mark said to himself.

Stepping forward, Mark placed his hands over two hand shaped dips in the console. Instead of five fingers, though, there were only three. Lifting only three of his fingers, he placed them on top.

“Identify yourself.”

“Uh, Mark Fischbach,” Mark said.

A pause, then a sharp noise echoed throughout the room.

“State your command.”

“Deactivate the comm blockage.”

“Understood.”

The hum intensified for a moment, and then the entire console powered down. Mark pulled his comm from his pocket. The formerly weak signal now blipped strongly. He had a connection. He could get out of here.

Mark sent out a call: “This is Mark Fischbach, Captain of the Barrel. I am sending out an SOS as I am stranded on this planet. Sending coordinates.”

Mark let the signal go out. Within a few minutes, another ship pinged back.

They were nearby and they were coming to get him.

He was going home.

Mark slipped the comm back in his pocket and started running back down the tunnels towards the pod. He couldn’t wait to see Amy and Chica again.

.

.

“Blank, this is my family. Guys, this is Blank.”

Mark looked the android up and down. He looked exactly like Ethan, but a washed out, quieter version. His white eyes, jittery hands, and the way he stood slightly behind Ethan all gave Mark the feeling that there was something broken in him. Still, Blank smiled nervously at them and Mark smiled back.

“Welcome aboard the Barrel,” Mark said, extending a hand. Blank took it, and they shook. “Glad to have you with us.”

Chica slowly approached, sniffing at his knees and wagging her tail low to the ground.

As the others gathered around Blank, welcoming him, Mark pulled Ethan aside.

“I’m glad you found him. You didn’t run into any complications, did you?”

Ethan laughed, “Other than the wormhole? Just a few anti-android rights people, but other than that it was smooth sailing. Heard you got stuck on an ocean planet.”

Mark shuddered. “Yeah. Bad shit, man. There was this weird AI there, except it was basically the entire extinct species that used to live there. I don’t know, really. It was kind of a dick though.”

“Can’t be any worse than ANTI,” Ethan half-joked. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Mark smiled and clapped a hand to his shoulder.

Just then, the comm buzzed overhead.

“Uh, guys?” Sean’s voice crackled through the comm. “I have some information I think you need to see. I’m boarding.”

Mark and Ethan shared a look.

“Get the docking port ready,” Mark called out to Kathryn and Tyler. “Let’s see if this brings us any closer to catching that bastard.”

[generousqueen21]

Always

Requested by Anon - Heya! Would you be able to do a young justice fic? So it’s a Dick Grayson/reader and the reader has powers like scarlet witch. Thanks 😊

I love the idea! I added a little of fluff, even though it’s mostly angst.This is my first imagine on Tumblr - so tell me how I did!

DIck Grayson x Reader

Summary: After missing for a few months, Dick finds you as an anti-hero - but is happy none the less.

Word Count: 1585 ( Alot? I got carried away)

Warnings: None

“Alpha, find the bug and deactivate it with the code. Beta, focus on getting information. Try the left stairwell, and take out the eight guards stationed on the third floor.” Dick whispered into his comm. “I’ll find their leader.” “Copy that,” Wally said, “Over and out.” Dick hesitated for a moment, waiting for the team to disperse before sprinting to the second floor, switching his comm link. “Wally? Dude, where are you?” “Sorry about that.” Dick jumped, turning around to glare at his best friend. Wally was leaning against the wall, a smirk written on his face. “We have to go before the others find us, or her,” Dick snapped. If the others found you before him, you would both be in some hot water. Wally rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “You’re crazy about her. You got to tell the team eventually.” Dick smiled, distracted for a second before returning to reality. “Let’s go. For real this time. Search every floor, and find her.” Dick ordered gently. Wally darted out of the room, not without screaming, “You owe me, dude!” Dick sighed and ran downstairs, escrima sticks in hand.

Dick had met you, a little over a year ago. Dick, with his team back on Mount Justice and you, with your metahuman powers, had hated each other. Boy Wonder, being the Golden boy he was, didn’t understand you in the least. Batman, being Batman, had ordered the team to find you on several occasions. But you always had gotten away. The Dynamic Duo was no match for a telepathic metahuman with telekinesis. The more Dick learned about who you were, the more he tried to find you. He remembers, that day he had finally found your home deep in the streets of Gotham. You had thrown him against the wall, nearly suffocating him, when he saw you clearly for the first time. You were fierce, but deep in your eyes, you were vulnerable. You were scared, really scared, that someone would find who you were, your powers, and turn you in. Dick soothingly called out, as much as he could, explaining that he only wanted to talk to you. He remembers your laughter, when he told you his name was Dick, after many late nights with you away from the terror that filled the cities. Your smile, when he would reach your hideout in a warehouse that seemed to be his second favorite place in Gotham. Your blush, when he excitingly invited you to join the team, how you would have been perfect. Your telekinesis and telepathy skills nearly at the same level of M'gann, would be put to good use, and the empty pit in your heart could have gone away. Could have. It had been month’s since Dick had seen you until finally, a mission in Gotham had popped up. Among the enemy, was you. He didn’t need to ask about your disappearance or your sudden change of heart. He knew all too well he needed to see you, to tell you that he hadn’t given up on you before it was too late. 

“Damn it!” You cried, throwing two guards out of the way with a violent red burst. You and the rest of Fury Clan’s plan had been very simple; get the files for the antidote, and leave. Somehow, the team had tracked your whereabouts, and getting in and out turned out to be trickier then you’d expect.

“Red Sparrow, give me a lift!” scream Tabitha. Tabitha was an ex-assassin had found you on the streets and was one of the few reasons why you had supposedly gone missing. Like anyone who cared was genuinely looking for you. You doubted people even knew you existed. Going over to the dark side wasn’t difficult, not with all the fun and cash that came with it. It even made you wonder why you had ever considered joining a clan of teenagers in Halloween costumes. Frightened, lonely, (Y/N) was a thing of the past; Red Sparrow was better at robbing banks anyway. “I got you!” You yelled, lifting Tabitha’s body and dropping it back over the railing where she had fallen. Tabitha had been the reason the Fury Clan had even been able to enter the building, let alone have a chance to escape. The mission was nearly completed, with one last objective remaining. “Red Sparrow! You know what you have to do!” Tabitha cried out while shooting a guard it the head and throwing an uppercut at another. “Get the files for the serum. Now!” You didn’t wait another second. Dashing toward the lab, you threw the remaining guards out of the way and drew a gun into your hand. Creeping down the hallway, you held your hands steady, fingers on the trigger. The pounding in your heart was making you anxious. Was he not coming?

A blurred flash sped by you, telling you otherwise. 

Dick trekked up the stairs. You had sent him a secret message to meet you at the lab, after discovering some confidential information. He knew that meeting you was risky, but he had to see you. It had been too long, and the guilt was eating him alive.

Arriving on the fourth floor, Dick grabbed his escrima sticks, loose in his hands. After years of quick reflexes, he knew he would never forgive himself if he hurt you. Dick hadn’t planned to see you just to see you again. If he was convincing enough, instead of asking you to return to Gotham, you might join the team. The secrets could stop, and - Dick jolted. “What the hell, Wally?” Dick was so caught up in his thoughts; Wally had to slap him to get his attention.“I could have hit you!” Wally shrugged. “I’m Kid Flash? Anyway, I found her near the lab. She has a gun by the way.” Dick cringed at the thought of you shooting, even killing someone. You were too good of a person to do that. It wasn’t you at all. Even back when you were alone on the streets, your definition of ruthless did not include murder.

Dick whispered to Wally quick instructions.“I’m going to find her. Stay here, and if anyone on the team finds you, tell them I found the boss. Keep an eye out, and also-” “Just go find her, man. I got you.” Wally reassured, leaving Dick to it.

You were becoming impatient by the minute. Nightwing was here, and you knew it. If he didn’t hurry, Tabitha would find you empty-handed, and there would be extreme consequences.

“Red Sparrow? Do you copy?” You mentally swore. You had forgotten to turn the comm off. You tore the earpiece off, throwing it to the ground and crushing it. Hopefully, Tabitha would have too much of a headache from the static noise to go looking for you.

Even in the dark hallway, you sensed footsteps. You almost forgot what you had come for. Slowly, you turned and saw the mask.

“Nightwing.” You muttered, with panic starting to bubble in your chest.  

“(Y/N)?” Nightwing whispered. It almost hurt to look at you. Almost. The speech he had planned to convince you to join the team was suddenly forgotten. All he saw was you.

You regained your composure, putting on a mask to hide the way your heart was crumbling inside. “Disable your earpiece. Do it now.”

“There’s no one on the comm link. I - ” Dick took a sharp glance at the gun in your hand and hesitated, before pulling the earpiece off. Should he be happy to see you? Or should he be turning you in?

You could feel his doubt, knowing he had forgotten you were telepathic. “Don’t even think about turning me in. You know why I’m here.”

Dick finally looks at you. You try not to fall victim to his eyes, but you fell quite a long time ago. Good thing he can’t read your mind.

“I know you’re reading my thoughts,” Dick said quietly. “I won’t turn you in. I wanted to see you. I didn’t just come because you asked.” His silent plea just to hug you, touch you, feel you again have not been enough. “I miss you.”

Your lip quivers, as you try not to break. But the look on his face had brought back too many memories, and your heart, your heavy heart didn’t want to listen to your brain.

Dick stepped forward toward you, with his arms out. Stepping forward, you accepted his embrace. He ignores that tears have started to silently fall down your face, knowing that if he tells you to stop crying, it will become harder for him as well. You pull away, rubbing your eyes, as you try to breathe steadily again.

Dick’s own eyes aren’t dry. “We don’t have much time, (Y/N). Please, come back.” Dick murmurs, pulling you back into his embrace.

You look at him with bright eyes, before your hopes come tumbling down once again. “I can’t, Dick. They know I’m the enemy - I was working with the Fury Clan!”

Dick sighs. “It’ll take time, but we’ll work it out like we always have. Ok? Besides, I think Wally’s kinda impressed by you.”

You nod, smiling for what seems to be the first time in months. “After all this time?”

Dick looks down at you, bringing your hand up to his cheek and whispers, “Always.”

[nny11writes]

Fictober 27- Moment

The one where Ahsoka goes undercover, finds herself crushing on someone, and can’t act. But honestly, what else is new? ~~~~~~~~~~~ Ahsoka was doubled over with laughter, unable to explain exactly what she found so hilarious about the dramatic Jedi flick based on the totally fake time that never happened where Skyguy beat Grievous aboard the Malevolence.

 During her undercover mission with Master Obi-Wan it had seemed prudent to actually spend time with regular kids her age. In practice Ahsoka had found it awkward, nerve wracking, and unpleasant with one exception. She had gotten to meet Moshi, who was a fifteen year old togrutan colored all in purples and pinks. He was silly and kind and had a set of fantastic dimples that complemented his round face. Ahsoka had known from the moment she’d met him that she was in, what some might call, Trouble. She knew better, she’d done better when it came to Lux but Mosh was...was him. Despite knowing it was a bad choice, Ahsoka had agreed to watch The Great Malevolence with him.

She only somewhat regretted the choice.

Moshi had responded to her laughter with a kicked puppy glare as if he was personally hurt. Each new round of her laughter, and derisive comment only causing him to melt sullenly into the couch. Ahsoka eventually managed to get a few words out to explain herself. “Look, it’s, it’s just, it doesn’t work like that! Explosive decompression is, well, it’s explosive. Lightsabers don’t work like that. Master Skywalker probably didn’t get shirtless for the fight, and what the heck?”

Dashing on screen was a rail thin togruta girl who performed a rather average gymnastic stunt before landing next to Anakin “The Hero with No Fear” Skywalker.

“Don’t worry Master, we can take him!” The girl cried dramatically.

“Of course we can, stick with me Padawan.” Fake Anakin said with a wink, and the two posed with some frankly amazing backlighting. “Let’s scrap this droid.”

Moshi’s sullen glare softened into something dreamy. “That’s his apprentice jedi, Ahsoka Tano. She’s amazing! And hot!”

Ahsoka coughed violently as she fought another round of blushing. The fake Ahsoka on screen effortlessly destroyed droid after droid with a great vibroblade technique that would cause an actually lightsaber to bounce back in her face. Ahsoka tried not to notice the way the actress’s headdress had some weird triangular stones on it to stand in as akul teeth. That was just rude.

“She’s a huntress, you can see her akul teeth, and I’m just saying if jedi could marry I’d propose.” Moshi continued, apparently blind to her deep suffering. “I’d totally get my ass kicked to propose to jedi Tano. She’s so cool! Did you know she liberated Ryloth? Like, please, just punch me in the face master jedi.”

Ahsoka tried to keep her peels of laughter inside and mostly managed to just vibrate from the frankly unhealthy suppression. So this was what Sith Hells was. Trapped between inappropriate laughter, indignation, and the nervousness that only seemed to show up the second she wanted to be cool.

Fake Anakin turned screaming and force pushed fake Ahsoka through a dramatically closing blast door. It cut to fake Ahsoka pounding on the metal, her fake off green lightsaber apparently not good enough to cut through metal.

“Don’t worry young one,” Fake Anakin said as he turned to face the rail thin cyborg. “I am not afraid.”

Ahsoka’s brain made a choice without her input, and she lost an inevitable war to her soul shaking laughter. “This is sooooo bad! Stars, cut through the door dumbass!”

“Don’t talk about my wife like that!” Moshi cackled as he chucked a kernel at her head. “But seriously, cut through the door! It’s one of the biggest plot holes of the whole damned thing.”

Ahsoka was too busy dying to respond that it was a plot hole because it never happened, because Anakin hadn’t dueled Grievous at all! She had!

“And her technique is so, stars, it’s the wrong way to do it completely! Lightsabers are all weight in the hilt, there’s no weight to the blade.” Ahsoka wheezed at the ceiling. “And what kind of catch phrase was that? ‘I am not afraid!’”

“Oh so now you’re a jedi expert?” Moshi half kicked at her feet.

Ahsoka grinned awkwardly. Oh boy, some day she’d think before she spoke. Might as well take the life line though. “I might not know a lot about fake jedi, but yeah, I keep up about real jedi.”

“Oh really?” Moshi shuffled to sit closer and leaned in with a critical look. “So tell me then, what form is she supposed to use?”

Were lightsaber techniques public domain? Did the general population know about fighting forms? She dug a hole and decided in a slight panic to do what she was best at, keep digging. “Shien.”

Moshi blinked, suddenly sitting up straighter. “What unit does The Hero With no Fear fight with?”

“General Skywalker leads the 501st Legion, typically fighting with Torrent Squad. So does Commander Tano.”

“Dude!” Moshi stared at her with excited round eyes and bubbled with excitement. It was like she was the best thing he’d ever seen. Ahsoka did not preen as he whispered, “Dude!”

“What? Those aren’t hard questions Mosh, especially when you spend time learning real things!” Ahsoka lightly kicked at his leg. Returning the affection the way it was given. Probably a decent way to do this. She hoped.

“I concede that we could totally learn a lot, especially if it was about the jedi and my future wife. But c’mon, the vids are just fun even if they aren’t battle accurate. I mean, the mission with the Malevolence is still classified anyways. All we know is that Master Skywalker stopped it and that it was a super weapon.”

“Fire the super weapon!” Fake Grievous manically laughed. Fake Grievous was some kind of droid with a voiceover, a poorly maintained droid that Ahsoka felt pretty bad for. “There’s nothing that will save your precious Kenobi now!”

“Speaking of lucky assholes, dude, your dad!” Moshi fanned himself as he leaned back to watch the flick again. “He looks just like Kenobi!”

Ahsoka’s laughter turned into an epic coughing fit. They did not just go from her being the cool crush to Master Obi-Wan-who should Not Be Recognized At All Costs. She forced each word out around a set of chest rattling coughs. “What? No! He? No! Kenobi?”

Smooth. Real smooth.

“I’m serious, if he’d cut his hair and trimmed that giant bantha beard he could totally pass as The Negotiator’s twin. How have you not noticed?” Moshi, her dear new friend and crush, watched her coughing fit without so much as offering to help beyond nudging a soda towards her. A disgustingly sweet overly carbonated drink. Romance was truly dead. Ahsoka glared through her watering eyes and he continued, “Honestly he does! Hey, maybe you two could dress up as Tano and Kenobi for spirits eve. Dude, holy crap, that would be awesome!”

Ahsoka leaned back into the couch and tried to feel less awkward. “I don’t think that would fly. Besides, hopefully we’ll be gone long before then.”

It was like cold water had been thrown on them and Ahsoka did her level best not to turn and stare. Normal people couldn’t read emotions like that, so she should pretend to care about Fake Obi-Wan and his ridiculously chiseled features instead. Right?

“Do not worry my young friend,” Fake Obi-Wan turned, his ripped shirt dramatically revealing his super defined pec and nipple. He smirked as the camera zoomed in on the largest vent she’d ever seen. “I can make my own way from here.”

Fake Anakin, still shirtless, grinned at his communicator and posed with his lightsaber just so. The open circle sigel appearing from the random assortment of junk in the background very dramatically as Anakin turned to look down a giant hallway. “Meet you in the middle master.”

“Hey Mosh, what’s wrong?” Ahsoka hoped enough time had passed for her to ask.Moshi shrugged then rolled his whole head in time with his eyeroll. 

“I just, are you really gonna leave that soon? Don’t you like it here Ashla?”

“I do! I really do, but we need to leave as soon as we can.” Ahsoka rubbed her knuckles together. “We can’t just stay.”

Moshi practically slammed the popcorn bowl down before turning to look her dead on in the eyes. “You could. If you want to.” 

He placed his hands on top of hers. Light enough that she could pull away. Ahsoka tried to not melt the couch.

When had her own life gotten so much more dramatic and soppy than the flick? Even so...even so she just wanted to have this one moment last forever. She just wanted to have this one moment.

“I-”Ahsoka’s secret comm went off, loudly. She fumbled pulling away to fish it out from her belt. She at least had the sense of mind to answer with, “Ashla.”

“No time for that, I’ve found them and they are running. I need you to cut them off at the juncture to the spaceport.” Obi-Wan’s slightly winded voice blared at her along with several blaster shots and the whirling of his lightsaber.

Ahsoka, despite the seriousness of the call, found her eyes meeting Moshi’s huge watery gaze. “Yes Master. I can be there in ten.”

“May the force be with you Ahsoka. Kenobi out.”

Ahsoka let the call cut and summoned her school bag, all but ripping her lightsaber out from the smaller front pocket. As soon as the hilt hit her hand Ahsoka dropped the bag as dead weight. She turned to look at Moshi again, trying to memorize the way he looked right then. So hurt but happy, proud and sad and like he was desperately in love with her. As if she had any right to those emotions at all. “I’m sorry Mosh, but I really can’t stay. Thank you. For everything, it was fun.”Ahsoka tried to not kick her own ass too hard over how terrible of a goodbye that was, before she turned and ran for the junction. No chaos, be tranquility. No emotion, bring peace.

It would be hours later and light years away that Ahsoka would realize she still had her fake comm unit. A single message showed Moshi looking serious as he held up her school bag. The text said, “ nowyou have to come back i got your stuff”.

[bloomsoftly]

Clint/rescuer prompt: Clint growled lightly “Not that I don't mind giving a good show once in a while, but doesn't this violate I don't know, some kind of doctors' ethics or something? Or don't I rate pants?” His rescuer/jailer laughed over the small fire in the corner of the cavern that they hid in. “You've only been fully awake for less than thirty minutes and what has you worried is not having pants?” “Hey I know where my priorities are."

run the world (girls), clint/darcy

Now on AO3. (if you can, please leave a review. It means a lot to me.)

AKA the one where the Avengers are all women, and I don’t mean gender-swap (inspired by this post)

Okay, I’m sorry this took so long. The muse started out on fire but left me high and dry by the end. Also I had to tweak the dialogue a little to make it fit. :)

Darcy fiddled with her bracelet for at least the sixth time, only to be rebuked by a stern voice in her ear.

“Darcy, you need to relax.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes in response. “I’m trying, Maria. This isn’t really my element, you know. I’m much more comfortable stealing things out from under someone in the board room. Except, you know, not literally.”

Another voice chimed in to reassure her. “Which you do very well, Darcy.”

Darcy rolled her eyes fondly. “Thanks, Pepper. Is everyone listening to me suck at this undercover thing right now?”

There was a long pause. With a sigh, Darcy eyed a nearby waiter who was passing out champagne glasses. She flagged him down and huffed, “I guess that’s a yes.”

“You’ll be fine, milaya,” the Black Widow purred in her ear. “Do you remember what your target will be wearing?”

Darcy accepted the glass from the waiter with a charming smile. She took a tiny sip of the champagne. Hiding her mouth behind the slim glass, she responded, “Yeah, he’ll be the guy in a purple suit. Seems a little ridiculous to me, but at least he should stand out.”

One of the Avengers—probably Peggy—started to admonish her for not taking the op seriously when a voice behind Darcy exclaimed, “Excuse me! Are you Darcy Lewis?”

The chatter from the comm abruptly ceased. Darcy turned slowly, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t the guy in the purple suit. That greeting couldn’t even pretend to be in the same realm as subtle, much less stealthy. She caught sight of him, and—yeah, hopefully the nation’s security was not in the hands of this lost little puppy. He was cute, in a little kid sort of way. And luckily for her, not wearing a purple suit.

Which meant she had no time to talk to him about his superhero crushes. She asked coolly, “Can I help you?”

The young man—surely he wasn’t even eighteen—practically vibrated with excitement. “You’re Darcy Lewis, right?” Without waiting for her to respond, he gushed, “You work with the Avengers! Black Widow and Captain America, and—”

Darcy cut him off sharply, lowering her voice and enunciating clearly. “Look, kid. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m Vice President of Potts Industries, not a superhero.”

He nodded conspiratorially and winked. “Right. By day, you’re VP of Potts Industries, right-hand woman—” he snorted at his own joke, “—to Pepper Potts, who’s only the leader of the greatest superhero team on Earth.”

Darcy’s comm crackled to life. “I like him,” Pepper cooed, laughing under her breath.

Simultaneously, Peggy grumbled, “We’re co-leaders, thank you very much.”

Unaware of their reactions, the boy continued, “But everyone knows that your other job—”

A firm hand clapped the young man on the shoulder, gripping hard. “I think you’re making the lady uncomfortable, hotshot.”

It was the man in the purple suit. “You never said he would be attractive,” Darcy muttered under her breath to the rest of the team. And he was, in a rugged sort of way. He didn’t look like a rookie agent at all, as a matter of fact.

There was smothered laughter on the other side of the comm, but the guy in purple distracted Darcy by throwing her a salacious wink.

She tamped down on the attraction that fluttered in her belly and turned to the young man. “Look—”

“Peter.”

“Look, Peter. It was very nice to meet you, really. But I’m a little busy right now, so if you’ll excuse me.” She looked at him pointedly, hoping he’d get it.

He didn’t. “But this is a gala. How are you busy—oh. Oh.” He bobbed his head excitedly. “You’re busy. On definitely-not Avengers business. Right, right. Okay.” Peter danced away a couple of steps—the man in the purple suit looking onthe whole time—and then turned back and hissed altogether too loudly, “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

He even waved and gave an exaggerated wink as he hurried away. Darcy rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“That’s not the tactic I would’ve taken to get rid of him, but to each their own,” the man in purple murmured, standing so close that his breath ghosted over the shell of her ear. Darcy flinched in surprise, but managed to refrain from a stronger reaction. Ignoring it, the man stepped even closer and grazed the outside of her arm with a calloused fingertip.

Throatily, he added, “Maybe you and I cold go somewhere more private and get to know each other a little better?”

At that, Darcy spun on her heel, ready to rip him a new one. At her expression, his eyes went wide and he took a tiny step back. He stuttered quickly, “Aww, shit. No, not like that. I just meant—if, you know, we’re supposed to trade—”

Darcy giggled at the transition from suave federal agent to bumbling puppy. Turning the tables, she invaded his space and purred, “Sounds like a great idea. Let’s find ourselves an empty room, shall we?” She stood close enough to watch his throat move as he gulped, and took the time to appreciate the spicy scent of his aftershave.

There was no reaction to Darcy’s flirting from the team, and she frowned in confusion. She knew better than to believe they would have nothing to say about her flirting, and was perturbed by the glaring silence. 

And just like that, everything went to shit. One of the Avengers called, “incoming!” over the comm, and then an explosion rocked the mansion, rattling the opulent chandeliers. There was shouting from the upstairs balconies, and masked men started pouring down the stairs. Darcy’s companion took her hand and they fled with the rest of the crowd to escape the ballroom.

They raced down the hallways, almost making it to the main entrance before Darcy heard the telltale thump of combat boots approaching around the corner.

Thinking fast, she tugged the agent into the coat room. Sliding behind a rack of winter coats, they huddled together in silence and waited for the sound of footsteps to pass.

Once it was clear they were gone, Darcy turned and whispered, “Okay, dude. Tell me you have the flash drive.”

He raised an eyebrow at her but reached a hand into the inside of his suit jacket. “Dude?” he questioned, amused.

“Well I’m not going to keep calling you the man in purple, am I?”

“Agent Clint Barton, at your service—”

Whatever he was going to say next was drowned out by a voice in Darcy’s ear. “Darcy, I need you to get out of that building right now,” Pepper hissed frantically. “We have to go radio silent for a while, but keep your comm on and we will come get you when it’s safe.”

“Affirmative.” Darcy paused, then added, “Please stay safe. All of you.” At the agent’s—Clint’s—questioning look, Darcy prompted, “How’s your thousand-yard dash?”

He smirked at her and answered, “Not bad. You ready?” Darcy sighed and kicked off her high heels. She nodded.

Clint dashed out the door. Darcy followed, snagging her coat—a waterproof, insulated, expensive gift from Pepper—and winter scarf from a nearby rack on her way. The remaining distance was clear, and she and Clint made it out of the mansion with little fuss. He paused at the bottom of the front steps—suit already soaked through from the freezing rain—and waited for her to catch up.

Darcy got close enough to reach out and grab Clint’s hand, and—

All of a sudden she was on her back, staring up at Clint’s face as he covered her body protectively. An explosion billowed from somewhere behind them, deafening her in one ear. Then they were moving again. Clint gripped her wrist tightly and called frantic encouragements every so often.

She and Clint raced into the forest surrounding the mansion, but didn’t stop running. Darcy’s hair plastered to her face, icy and wet. Her fingers started to lose sensation, until she could barely feel Clint’s grip on her wrist.

Darcy looked at her companion in alarm; if she was numb even while bundled up in a warm coat, Clint must have been in really bad shape. Sure enough, his movements were sluggish. Even his attempts to blink away the icy rain from his vision were slow, as if he was moving through molasses.

Something had to give, and soon. Luckily, Darcy spotted an outcropping of rocks that appeared to form a bit of shelter. She steered them that way desperately.

Clint all but collapsed once they got there, shivering from the cold. Terrified, Darcy dashed back out to find supplies. When she came back, she immediately built a small fire—the light from the flames showed that his lips were almost blue.

“Strip,” she commanded, standing to take off her coat at the same time. Clint just stood there, looking at her in confusion. Worried at his lack of response, she moved over to him and assisted him in taking off his clothing—his fingers were too numb and shaky to do it himself, and his movements were jerky and mechanical. It was like he wasn’t aware of what was going on.

Once he was naked, Darcy stripped off her cocktail dress and bundled herself and Clint underneath the full-length coat next to the fire. Eventually, their shared body heat warmed them both enough that they stopped shivering. After ten minutes or so, Clint’s breathing evened out into sleep.

They lied there for approximately an hour before their tiny fire started to flicker. Darcy gingerly removed herself from the warmth of their cocoon and went to coax it into a full flame.

The absence of Darcy’s body heat caused Clint to stir and wake up. Sitting up, the coat pooling at his waist, he growled lightly. “Not that I don’t mind giving a good show once in a while, but doesn’t this violate—I don’t know—some kind of doctors’ ethics or something? Or don’t I rate pants?”

Darcy laughed, moving back from where she’d been stoking the small fire in the corner of the cavern that they hid in. “Two things: one, you know I’m not a doctor—it’s a good thing you weren’t shot during our escape or we both would have been goners. And two, you’ve only been fully awake for less than two minutes and what has you worried is not having pants?”

With a roguish smile, Clint joked, “Hey, I know where my priorities are.” The effect was somewhat marred by the full-body shiver that overtook him.

Darcy frowned, hurrying back over to him. “Alright, flyboy. Get back under that coat before you die from hypothermia.” Clint huffed indignantly, but shifted over enough that she could slide under the jacket with him. To his credit, Clint’s eyes stayed above her chest for almost the entire time it took her to shuffle under the coat. Almost.

Sliding an arm around her and pulling her firmly into his body, Clint teased, “Did you just use a Star Wars insult on me?”

Darcy stroked a fingernail across his abs, appreciating the definition she found there. Clint shuddered at her touch. She smirked. “You got a problem with that, laser brain?”

He grinned in reply. “Not at all, darlin’. I’m starting to think we’re made for each other.”

She lifted her chin at that, and caught him staring at her mouth. They were close enough that she could reach out and lick the faint stubble on his jaw, if she wanted.

Darcy met his eyes and saw that Clint had come to the same realization. He licked his lips, drawing her gaze back to his mouth. She shifted her hand up slightly to his chest and gave herself the leverage she needed to reach his mouth.

Clint met her halfway. The kiss was soft at first—mouths still chilly and slightly numb from the rain—and they took their time exploring each other. Darcy swept her tongue along the seam of his lips, and he opened his mouth to allow her in.

He groaned against her mouth, pulling her impossibly closer into his body.

Darcy’s comm crackled to life for the first time since their hasty escape. “You do realize that we can hear all of this, yes?” Wanda asked, chuckling.

With reluctance, Darcy drew away. Clint threw her a questioning look, and she laughed, “We have an audience. We’ll continue this later, flyboy.”

He nipped at her lip one last time and admitted huskily, “I’m looking forward to it.”