#(it's electric so it's not like an engine turns on or anything.) and my tech is very clearly confused and I'm panicking because this guy's

[neverendingford]

.

[hobbithabits]

I understand it takes a lot of the fun out of it but what if Garak was actually just a tailor. And he had really shitty social skills.

Julian staring in awe as Garak dismantles electronic systems on ds9 cause ‘Holy Shit he is a spy’ and Garak is just recalling all his school lessons on basic electronic science while stressing the fuck out cause starfleet engineers mangled the place. Half of Garak getting stuff to turn off or turn on again is his half baked knowledge of cardassian work and the fact that the starfleet tech wasn’t actually integrated very well.

Julian keeps catching Garak staring at him with that look he has, and it’s mysterious and haunting (and sexy) but Garak is just. Really attracted to him and can’t get himself to say anything.

But then it’s revealed that he’s Enabran Tain’s son and everyone’s like “oh this guy is totally a spy” and Julian bursts into his shop to confront him about it and promptly causes Garak to nearly cut his finger off with electric scissors, because “what do you mean you know who my father is? I don’t even know who my father is! and I didn’t tell you that!”

Garak genuinely thought all the spy stuff was just a really long bit and he played into it to make Julian happy. He knows how to shoot a phaser and how to fight and stitch himself up because “it’s basic self-defense and first aid, doctor!” Garak hates the idea of being a spy cause he’s a tailor and he’s a good tailor, so why in the world would he get involved in something like that? Yes he used to be a gardener and briefly did engineering but people change careers all the time, and he wasn’t as good at those as he was at being a tailor.

Garak is literally just a very smart middle aged tailor. With an awful, awful crush on a doctor who’s like 20 years younger than him—A doctor who keeps getting him involved in very important and secret starfleet issues. Truly Julian just has no sense of subtly.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 117 (A Genius Idea)

Ash and Pearl arrived downstairs to find their parents. "Mommy, the lights went out and the TV, too!" he cried.

Heather nodded. "Pearl's mom checked the electrical box out back and it's totally fried."

Dylan, an electrical engineer, spoke with Heather and Anjali. "I can't keep trying to patch around the same problem. That box is done, but the city says they won't be able to get someone out to replace it until tomorrow morning."

Anjali frowned. "That doesn't help us get tonight's meal on the table."

"I have an idea, but I need some beakers and some bubble gum," Ash said. The adults looked confused. "We can make a heating system with candles and metal trays!"

"What's the bubble gum for, buddy?" wondered Conrad.

"To hold them together! Bubble gum won't burn if we use it to secure the trays on the outside, and I can make it harden faster if there's a science table here!"

The adults were all impressed by his idea, and they set to work prepping a makeshift heating station to continue cooking the food. It would take longer this way, but at least everyone would eat a hot meal tonight.

Ash worked away at a rickety old science station donated by the local middle school, while Pearl glanced around the cavernous, dark shelter. "Hurry, Ash, it's getting dark outside!"

"It's only nighttime. It's not that scary."

"My mom says nights in the Spice District can be dangerous."

Ash tried to work a little faster. "It's okay, Pearl. Our parents won't let anything happen to us. Why did you take your coat off? It's cold in here."

"I run hot! My dad says it's genetic."

Once the food was in the makeshift ovens, everyone took a break outside, purchasing coffee and pastries from the cafe to enjoy in The Soup Kitchen's eclectic courtyard.

Chatting together at a long table, Heather's mouth dropped open when she spotted a face she hadn't seen in years. "Marcus Flex! Is it really you?"

Heather's first vet tech turned at the sound of her voice, breaking into a wide smile when he recognized her. "Doc Nesbitt! No way! What are you doing in the city?"

"Volunteering here with my fiance and my son."

"Man oh man, Ash must be so big now."

"I am!" he said, speaking up across the table. "Who are you?"

"I used to work for your mother, but I've lived here since I left town."

Heather nodded. "Are you and Thomasine doing well?"

"Things with us couldn't be better. I know I was a bit non-committal and flighty back when I lived in the Bay, but Thomasine changed me. I can't imagine spending my days with anyone else but her."

Heather smiled. "That's great Marcus. Are you working? I've been worried about you since you both left town."

He nodded proudly. "I'm in marketing now and she's a mental health nurse. We lived in a real dump of a place for a while, but then one day this woman knocked on our door and offered us a bigger suite in the building for the same rent. She just wanted to trade for a smaller place, and we thought she might be out of her mind, but she showed us her ID and she's never missed paying the landlord the rest of our rent."

"No offense, but that sounds a little suspicious," said Conrad. "Paying your rent and hers to live in a crappier apartment. Only a criminal would do that."

"Rafaella keeps to herself. If she's into anything, it's never affected us."

"What did you say her name was?" Heather said.

"Rafaella Santos, according to her ID."

Heather and Conrad exchanged tense looks. "What's the address of your old apartment?"

"910 Medina Studios. Back in the Arts Quarter. Thomasine works in the Spice District on weekends and I like to stop by to give her an afternoon coffee. I'm usually there by now, but she'll totally understand when I tell her I ran into you, Doc! I really am sorry I just took off all those years ago."

Heather shook her head, trying to keep her sudden mix of emotions from showing in front of Ash and Pearl. That was Conrad's old apartment, and this Rafaella Santos was probably using an assumed name. She noticed Conrad down the table - the same wild thoughts were running through his mind.

"It's alright, Marcus. It sounds like everything worked out for the best. And if you can let me know how to get the money to you, I can finally send your share of the proceeds from the VetConnect extension you helped me come up with."

"That's kind of you, Doc, especially after I left without a word. It's been great catching up with you. Thomasine's just about ready to speak to her father again - she thinks - so we might be back in Brindleton Bay for a visit sooner than later."

"It would be great to see you, Marcus."

They got up then to head back to work, but before Marcus had left with his cafe order to go, Conrad approached him. "This Rafaella Santos - can you tell me what she looks like?"

"She changed her hair colour recently, but she was blonde before. You could tell it was straight from a bottle, though. You really think she's a criminal?"

"I think she might be a drug smuggler. I don't suppose I could convince you to wear a wire?"

"She doesn't say much. I've tried to be friendly."

"If it's who I think it is, she's not friendly."

"Thomasine wouldn't want me getting involved if she's dangerous. I'd love to help you and the doc, but we've been talking about maybe trying for a kid."

Conrad nodded. "I get it. You've given us enough to take it from here. There might be some officers scoping out the building over the next little while, until we know it's her, so if you're serious about taking a trip to Brindleton Bay to see your wife's family, maybe now's a good time. Just stay out of 'Rafaella's' way. Don't let her think someone might be on to her, and don't tell her you saw us. Oh, and, be prepared to take over the full rent in the larger apartment soon. If we get her, those contracts will void."

"I'll talk to Thomasine, but I'm glad I could help. Thanks for the heads up, Lieutenant Gordon."

As Marcus turned to leave, Conrad's heart started racing. If his instincts were correct, Ximena had been hiding out in the last place he'd lived in San Myshuno all along.

Now Conrad felt just days away from finally catching her. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Pay no mind to Ash's reindeer hat in the "genius idea" pop up. I sent them on the rabbit hole family volunteering event immediately after staging their Christmas Day photos. Didn't even think about changing their clothes since it was a rabbit hole. But then this pop up ended up dictating storyline so that's why he's wearing it in the inset but not at the lot.

Also the goal was empathy, but with Ash's genius trait and the pop up we got, he had the choice to solve the problem himself or call for help. Since his phone's been confiscated due to creepy pranks, there was really only one choice. His empathy bar didn't budge but his responsibility and mental increased. So his empathy is in low green territory at the moment (better than red!) and I'm hopeful he won't roll a douche trait. Since he's still got a ways to go until teenhood, I've got more time to play around!

NOTE 2: Second-save Marcus and Heather instantly became the best of friends while they reconnected, which is clearly because they're finally certain Ximena's within reach, all thanks to him!

[joz-yyh]

Love Host - Ch. 8

SUMMARY: Miles and Waylon meet up for some diagnostic testing that takes a very drastic turn. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (for this chapter ONLY!!)

PAIRING: Walmiles (WalriderxMiles)

WORD COUNT: 4,190

READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!

A/N: Wishing you all a belated Monster May, but also happy first day of Pride~ Excited for next chapter because there will be smut~ Comments and likes are very appreciated.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–——

Clang, Clang, Clang--!

Waylon looks up from his computer chair at the pedantic knock, knowing who his pertinent guest should be, double checking the security feed just to be sure Murkoff wasn't paying him any surprise visits.

There on the monitor, is a quiff of black hair and ugly olive jacket he'd recognize a mile away. Speaking of Miles –

Waylon opens the bean hole to the main door, the grinning blue eyes of Miles fucking Upshur waiting for him on the other side.

“Hey there, WayWay, I am here for my check up,” he greets with a smile, the wave he offers just out of sight, “Oh yeah, and Wally’s here too.” 

The words barely register before the nanomachine has its whole face pressed against the peephole, staring back at Waylon, completely eyeless.

The techie nearly jumps out of his skin, shutting the slat out of paranoid instinct, body wrecked by a wave of heebeegeebees. 

He can see it. Why can he see it when he couldn’t as much as before?

“Heeeeyy,” Miles whines, voice dampened by the steel barrier between them, ”I am still waiting out here.”

Waylon internally groans, trying to collect himself enough to unlatch the many bars securing the entrance shut.

When the final lock cracks loose, Miles is too busy sympathizing the Walrider to notice, holding its caricature of a face and daresay, petting it.

“Ah, you can c-come in now,” Waylon offers, standing in the doorway, watching on with morbid fixation.

“There, see,” Miles exclaims, a consoling note to his voice, “He wouldn't invite us in if he didn't like us.”

Waylon swears this scene must be slowly melting his brain from the inside out, along with Miles’s seemingly endless list of pet names for him.

“Hey, Way,” the brunette asks, turning his attention to his fellow asylum survivor, “could you tell Wally here that you like him, please? He thinks you're scared of him. Isn't that silly?”

He isn't scared, he's terrified.

“Yeah, s-sure. I like him,” Waylon offers weakly, shoving down his dread.

This was absurd. A machine couldn’t have feelings and even if it did, they were none more important than his own.

“Told you! Everything's fine,” Miles chippers, the Walrider finally appeased by this discovery.

The machine gazes toward Waylon again, breaking it’s body down into smaller pieces, swooping in close to swirl around Waylon knees, then higher, drifting in a cyclone of miniature storm clouds up to his shoulders.

“Uhh, hello again, I guess,” the engineer offers shakily, trying to appear fearless and brave, even lifting a finger to touch the nanite mist surrounding him. It feels like water.

“Thanks Waylon,” Miles says, patting him on the shoulder in good sportsmanship, stepping inside.

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

And just like that, the nano machine leaves him to follow it’s host, the dazed software engineer reminding himself that he needs to rearm the door. 

Before the reporter can poke his nose in further, Waylon locks the paddock, turning on the electric fence to deter any unwanted trespassers.

“So, this is where you’ve been holding up,” Miles asks, taking in the abandoned barracks, a dimly-lit trailer filled with a junkyard of broken, decommissioned tech.

The Walrider is equally curious, ghosting around the layout, dousing the army green interior in supernatural mist.

“Not quite,” Waylon amends, running a hand down his face, feeling overwhelmed by the quirky demands of his company, “This is where I work. Keeps me a safe distance away from Lisa and the kids in case anything happens.”

“Safety is important. I am sure there are no OSHA recordables in here,” the snarky brunette remarks, dodging under a duct of loose wires.

“Ha ha funny,” the blonde remarks, devoid of amusement, “the device I want to show you is over here.” 

Waylon grabs him by the wrist cuff before Miles can slip away to snoop, escorting him to the testing room.

“Aren’t you going to give me a tour first,” the sleuth whines, taking in as much of the space as he can, “you can’t tell me you have a secret lair and not show me around.”

“There's really not much to see,” Waylon growls, noting his companion’s inquisitive fingers, “Also, please stop touching everything.”

“Awwww,” Miles whines, dragging his feet in disappointment, a frown setting in.

“Fine, maybe later,” the techie relents, his stride persisting, “We're kinda pressed for time.” 

“Oh, somewhere you gotta be,” Miles asks, perking up at that confession, raising a brow at his companion, letting himself be tugged along more easily.

“Yeah, I’d prefer to be home with my wife and kids.”

A long pause, their combined footsteps echoing off the iron grates that line the floor.

“Am I invited,” the reporter asks, smirking at the back of Waylon’s unkempt head of hair.

Another aggravated yank on his sleeve.

“Let’s just get through testing first.”

They arrive at their destination, the very back of the bunker, a T-shaped hub. One of the doors is sealed off, making Miles wonder what could be hiding in there, the rest of the room encased by steel shelves filled with gutted parts, radios, computers, phones and the like. 

In the center is a chair outfitted with restraints, a litany of auxiliary cords hooked up to various loadouts, a desk and computer terminal set up in the corner, no doubt to collect the data of whoever sits in it.

“So … this is it,” Miles says judgmentally, unimpressed, “Looks like an electric chair, but somehow more revenge of the nerds-esque.”   

Waylon smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. He won’t deny it bears a striking resemblance to Mount Massive’s brainwashing devices, ones he had the untimely pleasure of experiencing for himself.

“Yeah, everyone's a critic. Just get in.”

“Is it safe,” Miles asks, skeptical of the bad vibe he was getting just by looking at the creepy thing.

“As safe as any of this experimental tech is gonna be.”

Miles supposes he can’t complain, given the circumstances. He doesn’t get any of these gadgets, but there was no one else he could turn to (aside from maybe Wernickle) who could give him the answers he seeks. Still, the reporter can’t help feeling a bit uneasy about entrusting himself to any diagnostic tool created on a non-existent scrap heap budget.

The Walrider manifests itself as a disembodied head, whistling through it’s cheeks, seeking to reassure it’s host with a trill of sound. Miles smiles, close-lipped, stroking the odd contours of its face with a gentle hand.   “Alright. I mean we’ve come this far. What other choice do we have?”

With that, the anxious human hybrid takes a seat, the next test subject for this experimental apparatus going on torture device. Waylon straps him in, tying the buckles too tight to be comfortable, but Miles suspects it's punishment for trying to pry into the engineer's private life. His head too is bridled in place, another belt across the forehead to keep him securely in an upright position.

“This will monitor your heart rate,” Waylon says, electrode pads stuck to Miles’ temple, and then after a moment, adds a disclaimer, “I am not a doctor, though.”

“You’ll be able to tell me more about the Walrider, right,” the brunette asks, nervously clenching his hands on the arm rest.

Waylon hesitates, less than confidently offering a, “Yeah,” in response.

The programmer returns to his computer chair, swishing around his mouse, loading up a program with a few swift clicks. 

A gray and white window pops up, waves on a grid, a number of statistics waiting for action.

“OK, I am going to turn it on now,” Waylon warns, looking over at the subdued reporter, about to flick the switch, "you might feel some … discomfort.”

“I am ready,” Miles braces himself, waiting for his electrotherapy to begin, the stiff shock he expects not so much more than a mild tingle. A part of him relaxes at this, the vibrations reminiscent of a massager, one of those fancy La-Z-boy recliners. Nothing he can’t handle.

Miles can’t turn his head to see the screen, can only speculate what his friend is doing over there, but the rapid clicking and typing does make him feel a little less relaxed.

“So, how you're feeling now, this will be our constant, what your readings look like normally. Which we’ll then compare to your reactions when introduced to stimuli.”

Waylon sounds like an exemplary salesman, confident, in the zone. Miles supposes all he needed was to have a computer in front of him to accomplish the feat.

“Sounds harmless enough,” Miles laughs raggedly, trying to calm his breathing.

“I am turning up the gain,” Waylon says, dialing up the voltage, the green-yellow-red LED indicator flashing, whining with excess energy.

The Walrider whimpers, a swell of crackling electricity causing the prescribed discomfort. It hurts Miles to see the creature suffering, tries to calm his symbiotic partner through their subconscious, saying it'll be over soon, but he can’t shake the nagging feeling that something is wrong.

“More,” Waylon advises, cranking the voltage up to maximum.

With this, the Walrider blips and flashes in and out of its corporeal form, unable to maintain it’s physical body. The nanites are raging like storm clouds, booming like thunder as it roars in pain, but this was Miles' idea -- he brought it here, subjected it to this. How could he call it off? 

Perhaps the Walrider had acted as a shield, protecting him from the worst of it, but now Miles can feel it too, an electric surge consuming him, making him wrestle against his restraints, so wired every vein in his body is popping. 

Then, it finally clicks in the struggling journalist's head.  This was bordering on lethal. 

"You're trying to kill us," the reporter barks in realization, and he doesn't want to admit that there's tears of betrayal gathering in his eyes, “What is it? Some kind of virus?!”

"I am trying to disable it,” the blonde corrects, his shout cutting through the charged shocks in the air, over Miles screaming, “Put yourself in my shoes. Murkoff is going to come at us with much more than this. I had to test it’s limits." 

"This isn't what we agreed," the reporter bellows, grasping onto consciousness.

"If I had told you, you wouldn't have agreed,” Waylon grimaces, trying to get the reporter to look past his personal bias and understand common sense, “For godssake it's a machine Miles. It's not human. It's killed people. Use your head!" 

"The same machine that saved your ass from getting sliced up," the reporter grits out, trying to reroute the pain, blocking his mind of it.

That makes Waylon falter, rethink his ethics, but he finds his courage again.   "I am trying to fix this, fix you. After Murkoff, what then, huh? You think society is just going to let you go running around loose, a living bioweapon? They’ll call you a terrorist! A threat to national security." 

"You don't know that!" 

“Do you hear yourself?! Just listen to me –" 

"–Turn it off!" 

"Miles–" 

"– No! If he dies, I die!”

Waylon stares at him numbly, shaken to his core, never considering that possibility.

“Turn it the fuck off, Waylon,” Miles reminds him, swiftly approaching his breaking point, “How will your kids feel, knowing that their father is a murderer?!”

That line ultimately causes the engineer to relent, doing as he's told. The chair powers down, the Walrider dissipating along with it, fading into thin air, too weak to exist.

The heat generated by such a powerful current leaves behind a steam, a faint smoke wafting up from around Miles’ person.

Waylon stands, intent on helping him out of the restraints, getting shocked in the process when he strays too close to the magnetic field. 

How could he forget? Miles was a living powerhouse now, polarizing everything around him.

He grabs a pair of heavy duty rubber gloves from off the shelf, better equipped to thwart any more incoming sparks, starting from bottom, unbinding the reporter’s feet first, then the buckle on his waist, his wrists, and then finally the band around his head. 

The electrical hazard of a man collapses by the time he’s done, a harsh rattle echoing throughout the space as his knees hit the mental grate under him, causing another shock to rumble across the bunker, the lights flickering. Good thing Waylon is wearing insulated shoes.

Miles is shaking, eyes blank and crazed, gaping in silent horror. He can feel the faint presence of the Walrider still inside him, barely a wrinkle, a wisp of life, his relief drowned by sinking fear.

"I am sorry," Miles mumbles through ragged panting, hugging himself, hoping the nanomachine can hear him, though he doesn’t know how much merit his words will hold after this, “Just wait. Everything's going to be OK now.”

Waylon is aghast. He's never seen Miles break before, that snarky exterior he donned like a suit of armor brought low, stripped to such a sad and sorry state of despair.

The whistleblower bites his lip, clenching his fists. He reminds himself that what he did was a necessary evil, to not regret his decision. 

His stomach is in knots, kneeling down to comfort Miles, a hand resting upon his pious back in a gesture of peace.

"H-hey, are you … OK?"

In a fit of anger, Miles pushes the blonde away, knocking Waylon into the nearby wall, shocking him with some of his excess energy. Miles only regrets not being at full strength, because, if he was, he would have hurt the backstabbing liar much more. 

"Drop the good boy act,” Miles growls, ruthless, seething hate in his eyes, “We both know it's a crock of shit. And fuck you!” 

Waylon admits he probably deserved the insult, his mind still reeling, his chest tight, electrocuted.

“When are you going to get it,” Miles shouts, stumbling to his feet, reaching for a nearby shelf to compensate for his weak knees, knocking over some of the equipment in the process, “I am not the same man anymore and neither are you, no matter how hard you try to deny it. What happened to me in Mount Massive … it happened to you too, Waylon."

Minutes ago, when his head was still getting fried inside a microwave, when he and the Walrider were both on the brink, he'd seen memories, not his, but the machines. It showed him Waylon dressed in a patient’s uniform, hiding from a cannibal with a circular saw, falling down an elevator shaft as a runaway bride, a piece of lumber stabbed through his ankle.

Waylon stares at him, speechless, still in a discombobulated heap on the floor, where the product of Miles’ attack had landed him, held up by the weak limbs of his forearms.

"Unlock the fucking door," Miles spits, shuffling along in disgust, clinging to anything substantial that will crutch his weight, “I need a smoke."

More parts crash onto the floor, thunder shocks raining over everything Miles touches, the emotionally charged brunette punching the wall, a spark igniting into a starburst of charred black, the power shock rippling through the bunker.

“The door, Waylon,” orders a very pissed off reporter.

The man in question scrambles to his feet, pushing past his living battery of a companion to input the deactivation code for the fence, unlocking the door for him as well. 

—--

It feels good to be outside, feet planted on solid ground, Miles finding the nearest thing that he can use as a seat (which just so happens to be a concrete jersey barrier) and flops his blue jeans onto it, fumbling with his lighter. 

"C'mon, light goddamn you," he curses, trying to ignite the end of his cigarette, but his fingers are shaking far too much, the flame stalling every time he flicks his thumb over the wheel.

The fits are getting worse, even his lips are too damn chaotic, Miles abandoning his task in favor of clutching at his head, elbows on his knees, sobbing. 

As much as it's killing him not to feel the Walrider’s touch right now, he's trying to find some way to fill the hole, but if this is what life felt like without it, he’a pretty sure he'd rather die.

What would it take to bring it back? A few more fingers? An eye? An arm? His legs? How many parts was he willing to give up?

“What the hell am I supposed to do!? You can't leave me here!”

He's shouting, his voice a booming threat, as if his fury alone could convince the universe to give him what he wants.

God, when did he start depending on his triquetra boyfriend so much? 

Something faint whispers in the back of his mind, but it's too distant, a ghost ship sunk to the bottom of the ocean, too deep for him to make sense of what it is. 

Next comes a prickle at his skin, like an itch, persuading Miles’ to blink, eyes still puffy with the salt burn of his tears.

The setting sun is almost too bright, but a veil surrounds it, an umbra of miasma so glaring it feels like a rippling mirage on the horizon.

"Tell me, I am not hallucinating right now."

The cigarette falls from Miles' mouth as he leaps towards it, grasping at what looks like the ulna and radius of a forearm, metacarpals made not of bone, but of glass.

The creature grunts painfully, as if Miles opened up a barely staunched wound, the crudely disassembled parts catching him, fragile pieces splintering, but not letting go.

"Don't ever do that to me again." 

It's spoken like an order, the beginnings of a spine taking shape under his touch, connecting vertebrae to skull and Miles sobs, squeezing the fragmented skeleton of his beloved monster even tighter.

 "I thought I lost you."

There's a whirring almost like a hiss that's permeating the air, comforting, acknowledging.

They stay locked together like that for a while, until the Walrider is a full body once more, Miles finally calmed down enough to think rationally.

"So, what now," Miles asks, gazing upon its beautifully disfigured face, twilight burning all around them.

The Walrider adverts it's mangled gaze, knowing Miles isn't going to like it, making a gesture towards the bunker.

"Oh, no! No, no, no, nooo! You're not telling me you want to go back in there," the man shouts, staring at his partner with a new wave of vehement, tear-streaked baby blue eyes.

He pulls away from the mechanized menace to stomp his Timberland boots around in the dirt, arguing with himself why it was a bad idea.

The Walrider allows its host this moment to cool off, expel his frustrations before it goes to the human's side, steering Miles away from his thoughts and back into its arms.

Miles is having none of it, holding the nanobot off, trying to resist its pull, but the machine squeezes him into a suffocating embrace anyway.

"No, don't try to–" 

‘– sweet talk me,’ he finishes the thought inside his head, but he's not sure his thoughts are all that private anymore. 

He sighs, playing captive for a few precious seconds before he wriggles out of the hug, pushing the other away, pinching his sinuses, aggravation plain on his face.

"Let's just think about this for a second," the sleuth tries to reason, his other hand on the entity’s chest to keep a healthy distance, "What am I supposed to do if something goes wrong?” 

(As if things haven’t gone horribly wrong already.)

“How can we trust Waylon after this?"

The Walrider hovers there, compiling a solution. Bony phalanges take hold of Miles' hand, upturning it. 

An onyx box is placed inside its host's bandaged palm, circuits spreading all throughout each corner, making it shimmer and glow.

“It's pretty,” Miles says, watching the ebb and flow of energy, “but what am I supposed to do with this?"

The Walrider taps it's claw on one of those art-deco type microprocessors that adorns each side, the compartment opening to reveal a strand of DNA, the miniature double helix spinning inside like a gothic ballerina.

"Yeah, alright," Miles says, recalling his high school genetics classes, "I think I get it. It's a spare copy of you, right?"

The synthetic skeleton's eyes are black voids, a flash of pupils pulsing with energy, but Miles knows what it means.

With a delicate touch, the reporter stores the replica of DNA back inside it's jewelry box, depositing it into his jacket pocket for safe keeping.

"Going to finish my cigarette before we go in," Miles scoffs, retracing his steps, looking around for the tube he haplessly discarded. 

He's tempted to take a fresh one from the pack (cigarettes being one of few luxuries he bought alongside the road map at the gas station), but he’s not exactly in a position to waste perfectly good tobacco and these things were expensive as hell.

He spots the white cylinder amidst the dirt patches in the grass, plucks the filter off the ground (not too dirty) and sticks it between his lips.   It lights on the first try, that sweet inhale of nicotine (and god knows what else) feels like a hit of ecstasy. He's the epitome of James Dean in that moment, slick, cool, and aloof.

The Walrider floats over, snuggling it's jaw against it's host's ear, a clack of teeth in its best impression of a laugh.

"Yeah, Yeah," Miles dismisses, a stubborn pout clinging to his lips as he jerks away, annoyed by the fact that he gave in too easily.

The entity dissolves, bio smoke curling around its host, patiently waiting. Halfway through his second cigarette, Miles speaks again.

"If we’re doing this, then, I want you to possess me, like you did before.”

Now it's the Walrider's turn to act surprised, manifesting its jaws to growl an objection.

“If we're going back in there, we go together or not at all," the brunette declares, forthright with resolution, pointing accusingly with his cigarette.

Miles would rather die on this hill, then budge from it, but the Walrider has its own methods of persuasion.

Obsidian claws drag him up by his weather-beaten jacket, all 6’1” of him teetering on tip-toes, the half-spent drug falling to the ground, still burning away.

“Hey, not again,” the human whines, but there's no real anger behind it, no matter how hard Miles tries, “That's a forest fire waiting to happen, you know. Haven't you heard of Smokey the bear?” 

As the man twists to retrieve his lost cigarette, the Walrider distracts him with a kiss, one Miles resists just briefly before surrendering to it.

"Hnnn… Mmm…" 

A billow of smoke writhes between them, ebony and ivory, Miles opening his mouth to the Walrider’s wandering cable of a tongue, and OK, fuck it, time to make out.

—--- 

Miles struts back into the bunker, slamming the door shut behind him with a flick of the wrist, the nanites taking care of the rest, latching all the barrel bolts tight.

Waylon jumps from his desk, anxiously awaiting the outcome of Miles' smoke break, standing up to meet him halfway.

Judging by the cacophony that marked his return, Waylon assumes Miles must still be a prickly flume of outrage.

Not that appearances matter, but Waylon folds his hands over his hair, still inflated from the static, patting it down, reluctantly approaching the other male, trying to do the right thing by apologizing first, "Miles I thought about what you said and I am sorry–"

Waylon chokes on his own fear, recalling the same palpating collision of dark energy when he escaped Mount Massive, the same shape that faces him now, a man-made demon that watched him burn out in a stolen jeep.

"Miles … is that … you," he asks quietly, backing up, hands reaching for something solid to steady his nerves.

"Chill out, Waybaby, I ain't gunna hurt you.”

His brain can't seem to connect the vaporware voice to the bastardization of the man that's saying them, almost wants to laugh, having no other logical response.

“Just thought you needed a visual demonstration of the point I made earlier so, here we are," he ends his intro by holding his hands out like a showman, a little pièce de résistance.

For as smart as Waylon is, the words just don't come. He swallows, nods even if he doesn't comprehend what's happening.

"Anyway, Wally's convinced me,” the man turned machine explains, looking sheepishly smug, “We're following through with your plan so hook us up, operator, we're going back in."

"What?"

Just what kind of masochistic freak has Waylon gotten himself mixed up with if Miles wanted to be zapped to high heaven willingly?

"You said you wanted to test our limits. So, I say: Let's. Get. Dangerous."

Waylon remembers those ridiculous work related survival videos he had to watch as part of his onboard training. Suddenly, those scenarios don’t seem so far-fetched anymore, playing hostage to Miles’ special brand of crazy

[lhs3020b]

Technology in Faerun

This is a) an extremely "me"-ish post, b) one you basically have to be me to care about and c) also EXTREMELY spoilery, especially for Act III of Baldur's Gate 3.

Still, this is a topic I've been thinking about, and you're reading my Tumblr (so sorry!), so here we go...

On the one hand, the tech level in BG3 does seem to be oriented more around "rule of cool" than anything else. But on the other, there are some interesting little details, and perhaps (while it's subtle) a hint or two in-game of a scenario that fits it all together.

First of all, for maximum whiplash, should you get into the prison underneath the House of Hope, you'll have a complex battle involving magic, bladed weapons, bows and so on ... and in the background you can watch the Saturn V-style rocket motors that hold the whole complex up in the air over Avernus. No, really, you literally can. Here's a relevant screenshot:

It even looks like the Saturn V engine, you know?

(Apparently Raphael - or perhaps Hope - has done some really interesting work on in-flight stability and fuel injection; the House of Hope has remarkably-minimal turbulence and there's no hint of any kind of asymetrical thrust issues. Anyway.)

Across most of the game, the technology level seems to be vaguely late-medieval/early-Renaissance, though with a few interesting oddities. (I can't recall seeing a single horse anywhere in the game - which, interestingly, may also explain why the lance is a weapon-class that's not present.)

The first hint that this wasn't the entire situation came in, of all places, the hospital in Reithwin. You find an elevator there that's strongly-implied to be electric. It's located in an area where the shadow curse is strong enough to put fires out, which also would presumably prevent steam-driven systems, but it still works, and it even has glowing lights on it. Also, and I guess this is the money shot, if you look closely, the machinery emits sparks when it's in motion. Like badly-maintained electrics might. Also, inside the operating theatre, if you look carefully on top of some of the bookcases, there are things that look remarkably-similar to early, crude electric filament lamps. Granted they might not be that - none of them are operational, anyway - but, it's an interesting possibility.

But there's more. If you explore far enough in the Underdark, you'll find an abandoned wizard's tower. In the basement, there's a machine canonically-called a generator; feed it sussur blossoms and it powers up the whole building. You actually get treated to a cutscene of all the lights coming on and the elevator waking up. You can also find a note in the building referring to the work of one of its former occupants, and their "lightning inventions".

Well. Lightning. There we have it - they canonically do have electricity at least in a few places in Faerun. The means by which it's generated, at least at the tower, in interesting. It's not quite spelt out, but the most notable property of the sussur tree is its anti-magic field, so this kind of implies that the generator is somehow using this to produce electricity. (It also implies a connection between electromagnetism and magic - Faerun's physics model must be "fun"!) Elsewhere in the Underdark there's also something that looks suspiciously like a railway line, albeit one that's inoperative. Later on, if you explore far enough into the Underdark, you'll find the Grymforge, which while obviously at least partly-magical in character, is also clearly a rather-advanced piece of machinery.

The biggest surprises, though, come in Baldur's Gate itself.

Inside the Steel Watcher factory, you find things like this:

Wiring, pipes, cybernetics, glowing bulbs, spinny vaguely-dynamo-ish things ... while the vibe is all "dark and Satanic mills", it's also kind of turn-of-the-20th-Century too. This isn't medieval technology here. This is stuff that's not so far removed from what we use.

And interestingly, it's not just restricted entirely to this location, either. If you find your way into the Counting House vaults, you can find a note warning against using "devices powered by bottled lightning" inside the main vault, due to flooding. Bottled lightning - OK, so the bank apparently has power too! But then, the alarm systems in the main area do look suspiciously-electrical in some ways ... now, if only they could get their plumbing sorted out!

However, the pockets of semi-modern technology do seem to be quite localised. Most of what there is seems to be either highly-experimental (a powerful wizard's personal science project) or associated with powerful and wealthy institutions in the big city. And even there, the most advanced systems seem to be associated with the Gondians and their work. There also seems to be a suggestion that these innovations are quite new, and there doesn't seem to be have been many attempts to scale or mass-produce the equipment. The one exception to this pattern might be Reithwin, but the game strongly suggests that pre-curse Reithwin was a prosperous place, and on a main trade route to Baldur's Gate too, so it's entirely-plausible that the local elite might have been able to benefit from new ideas in the metropole. Perhaps the House of Healing in Reithwin was able to acquire a few very early prototypes from the Gondians' workshops, just before the curse fell? That could explain the elevator, and what I suspect are filament lamps?

As for the lack of wider advancement in Baldur's Gate itself, honestly I think we can pin the blame for this one directly on the city's horrifyingly-toxic politics. Gortash is a devotee of the God of Tyranny, so of course he doesn't want to share his toys. The city is allowed to have just enough advanced industry to support his plans for his dictatorship, but of course he's not going to share that power with the wider population! (The Counting House is presumably a special case for this rule - I wouldn't be surprised if there's quite a complex dynamic of power-balancing between Gortash and the financiers, but it is in his interests to share some things with "the money", if you will.)

Lastly, another factor might be that most of the actual R&D work seems to be happening either with the followers of specific gods - such as Gond! - or various wizards. What we see of their world is rather mixed - many wizards are awful (hi, Lorroakan!), though there are exceptions too (overall Rolan is, ultimately, a decent person). They don't seem to tend to work together, and as far as I've seen, there doesn't seem to be any equivalent of a university system or public education system. If a wizard dies, it seems quite possible their research might die with them, which is surely going to put a crimp on development! Meanwhile, with regards to the more "industrially-minded" gods like Gond, who knows how willing they are for their devotees to share their work widely? (Let's face it, a lot of Faerun's deities kinda suck - Gale has a point when he warns against seeking divine intervention, I think.)

Anyway, food for thought...

[williambutcher008]

Inside the Life of an Engineering Student: Between Code, Culture, and Coffee

They say college is where life begins—and for me, that life began with a cup of coffee, a half-charged laptop, and a dream I didn’t quite understand yet.

My first day at engineering college felt like walking into a different world. The campus was buzzing with energy—students rushing to labs, music echoing from the auditorium, and somewhere in the background, the comforting aroma of filter coffee from the canteen. It was overwhelming at first, but soon it became home.

At Sri Manakula Vinayagar Engineering College, life is more than just lectures and lab reports. It’s a rhythm—a blend of code, culture, and caffeine-fueled late nights. Days started with theory, but the real learning often happened outside the classroom. Coding marathons, tech fests, impromptu brainstorming sessions—this is where knowledge turned into innovation.

I remember staying up all night during a hackathon, running on cold coffee and adrenaline. Our team didn’t win, but we built something real. Something we were proud of. And the best part? Our professors celebrated the effort, not just the outcome. That’s rare.

But it’s not just about academics. SMVEC’s cultural vibe is just as electric. One week you're debugging Java, the next you're on stage, dancing under a thousand lights during the college fest. It’s this balance that kept me grounded—tech meets art, logic meets soul.

What surprised me most was how the college encouraged us to take the lead. From organizing events to leading startups from scratch, we weren’t just students—we were creators. The Innovation and Entrepreneurship Development Cell gave us tools, support, and belief. That belief? It changes everything.

And somewhere in between all this chaos, friendships were built—over chai breaks, group projects, and shared stress before exams. We laughed, we failed, we picked each other up, and we moved forward. Together.

Four years went by faster than I expected. But every time I walk past the coding lab or the auditorium or the coffee counter where it all began, I remember: this was more than an education—it was a transformation.

If you’re looking for a place that pushes you to become more than just a degree-holder—a thinker, a doer, a dreamer—Sri Manakula Vinayagar Engineering College is one of those rare spaces where that happens.

So yeah, inside the life of an engineering student? It’s messy, magical, and full of memories. And I wouldn’t trade a single line of code, a single sleepless night, or a single cup of coffee for anything.

[bulldog-geckorahhhhh]

Hmmmmm I don’t actually know anything about your robotics gang characters like you’ve talked about them but I’ve never known their actual

ya know

backstories

I’d like to learn about them one day since you wanted to bonk ocs with them a bit ago/nf

Ooohhh uh!

Well- Elle and William are siblings! Orphans, actually. They grew up together in foster care- Elle is resentful of the world, but hides it behind the facade of just being a weirdo tech girl- her whole persona is being cool and edgy and outsidery. But she genuinely doesn’t like anyone besides her brother- and even then she loathes him a lot! She’s. Kinda my favorite

William is an engineer for the team . He’s had several. Accidents. With the machines. That’s why he has all those electrical scars on his body. He loves his sister- but he’s just. Worried about her. He knows what she’s really like.

Vern was a nepo baby- he got the money to start the robotics company from his parents- they DID cut him off tho- so then he had to beg the mayor for funding. He’s charismatic- and was a stinky little liar as a kid- he’d flutter his eyelashes at people and suck up to them. He gotEVERYTHING he wanted. He still mostly does

Saturn is literally the chill guy meme. But also they’re in a relationship with half the machines. (Elle is with the others). They don’t really ever see themself falling in love with another person- the machines love them just fine! They grew up with very distant parents- when they turned 10 they had to live with their grandparents. They resent their parents greatly, and blame them for “breaking” them somehow.

Coral. Well I’ll reveal her lore later :3

And GAllE. Later

[heroesofchroma]

Ch.4 - Rampart

(PREV / ALL \ NEXT)

Every time Gwen stood in front of Chroma, it never seemed to get less imposing. The trio of towers, arranged in a triangular pattern, the tallest facing her, connected across each other by glass bridges and massive concrete halls, seemed like an impossibility of engineering. Yet, here it stood. Reminding the city who was protecting them. A single beacon out of four in the country, trying to assure the people they were safe. The pit in Gwen’s stomach was less fear that she might be working for the bad guys, and far more that she might screw up working with the good guys.

Gwen walked through the main lobby up to the main desk. She flashed her ID and said, “In for RnD and turning in an application.”

The receptionist, a kindly looking middle-aged woman smiled. “Another recruit from Sister herself, alright…” she muttered, taking the ID for a moment before nodding and quickly handing Gwen the card back along with a Contractor-level security badge. “First elevator, fourteenth floor for your Research escort. I’ll take the application and get it to the proper channels.”

Gwen nodded and handed over the application. “Tell ‘em to call me if anything needs clarifying. He doesn’t have a phone right now.”

Without skipping another beat, she followed the instructions to the letter, finding the elevator, flashing her badge to unlock it, and meeting with the escort on the fourteenth floor. She followed the security officer through stark, sterile halls until they reached a lab that… Was considerably grungier. Concrete and tread steel made up the majority of the room, testing chambers of glass and a multitude of miscellaneous wires decorated the room, thankfully devoid of dust. At least, as clean as it can be despite the weapons testing.

Greeting Gwen was a man built like a pickup truck, sporting the mechanic jumpsuit to match. He dressed sensibly, though his nature was betrayed by the harness of electrically motorized arms  hanging from his back. He smiled bright at the entrance of the prodigy. “Well, hello there! Took your sweet time getting in!” he exclaimed, his deep, husky voice rattling her bones, his Indian cheeks flushing with an amount of pride and joy in equal measure from behind a short beard.

“It isn’t my fault I still gotta go through bureaucracy just to get in,” Gwen joked, extending her hand for a shake. “What’s on the agenda, Ishaan?”

Ishaan nodded. “Business, right. I’ve managed to integrate your tech into the armor, but it’s bulky…” he explains, leading Gwen to the main project in the room, at least for the moment. He taps the bolted on vents on either shoulder blade. “The issue becomes I’m not sure how to really get them wired in such a way that they’ll both give enough output to be useful AND give reasonable flexibility to the pilot.”

Taking in the armor, Gwen looked over the oversized mass of cobalt and steel colored plating. It was obvious half-complete, only having a full skeleton while much of the suit remained uninstalled. “Boot her up, let’s see what we’re working with in practice so far.”

“She’s not quite attached to any mechanisms at the moment, I’m still in the assembly phase. I don’t even have a basic wire setup as every one I seem to come up with has some kind of pinch threat that’d block the particle throw in practice,” Ishaan explains. “The best I have come with is…”

Ishaan pulls up a touchpad and taps a command into it. Over the armor shines a hologram projected from overhead lamps. Microtubing from the vent structures on either side of the armor show in bright green contrast to the darker blues and greys of the main plating.

Gwen thinks for a moment. She gauntlets didn’t have this issue, the vents only needing to travel from the forearm to the palms. But they also gathered fewer particles for fewer throwable projectiles. The scale-up of the collectors didn’t really allow them to be placed anywhere else reasonably… Unless…

“Maybe instead of trying to wire them from the back…” Gwen moves closer to Ishaan, motioning her explanation. “There’s some way to get them situated on the shoulders?”

Ishaan nods along. “I thought so as well, but the issue becomes weight.”

“Is there no way to augment the frame to carry it for the pilot?” Gwen asks.

Ishaan thinks along for a moment. He taps away at the pad, one of this motor arms handing his normal one a stylus as he quickly draws up an idea. The hologram overlay shits, adding in one of the condensers onto the shoulder, shifting the design and frame of the power armor to accommodate. “I… Suppose it’s possible? I’m not sure how well it will all still function… The particle output may still not be enough.”

Gwen nods, thinking along. “Maybe instead of moving condensers, then… Maybe we make them tanks.”

Ishaan tilts his head. “Tanks? You mean some kind of particle battery system?”

Gwen shrugged. “We’re two genius idiots, I’m sure we can figure something out. Something like an auto-filling magazine to hold ammo while not firing. That way, while in travel, the armor can generate shots and give the armor more consistent fire-time.”

Ishaan thought hard about the suggestion. His face contorted over and over again, mulling over ideas on how to make it happen moreso than other solutions. “I… Hmm… I think that could work, yes.”

Gwen nodded. “Then I’ll get started figuring that out, you can work out the tubing from there, yeah?”

Ishaan nodded firmly. “I’ll meet you at the bench when I’ve got it!” he assured with a hearty thumbs up.

The two worked diligently for about an hour before a presence in the lab interrupted them. A clear, smooth voice echoed against the concrete walls. “What’s the news, doc.” The voice had no ideas of nonsense or hesitation in the simple words.

Attached to the voice, a tightly-suited form walked in, a helmet masking their face. The coloration of their suit mimicked the armor the scientists were working on, the curved T-visor showing a faint orange tint to it. The suit was simple, and came with anchor points that locked into the armor.

“Rampart! Good to see you, we’re working on modifying the armor a bit still, we aren’t quite in a functioning state just yet,” Ishaan explained. Starting, he moved next to Gwen. “Ah, this is Gwen. She is the one who is going to make ballistics irrelevant in your new armor!”

Gwen chuckled a little nervously. “Dang, Ishaan, you’re really setting a high bar for me, here,” she joked, reaching out a hand. “It’s good to meet the pilot, though.”

“Rampart. Ram is acceptable,” the soldier replied, clasping Gwen’s hand in a firm shake. “What exactly do you two plan on strapping me with, then, if ballistics are out of the question?”

Gwen took over the conversation, heading towards the workbench she’d been on. “The easy answer is the closest thing to a laser blaster that we can make practical. You’ll be gathering particles from the atmosphere, condensing them with a dense electromagnetic array,” Gwen pauses, looking to Rampart almost expecting to get cut off. Taking the hand of the armor and showing off the palm, or where the palm of the armor WILL be when it’s installed properly, at least, she continues, “As they run through the tubing, they’ll be condensed and heated further. From there, it’s a matter of building the launcher that’ll fire them, which, Ishaan?”

Passing the conversation, Ishaan takes over with enthusiasm. “The launcher, for now, will act more or less like your average air-gun,” Ishaan heads over to a so-far untended workbench and picks up a gauntlet that looks large enough to fit onto the bulking frame centerpieced in the lab. Showing it off, he starts with the undercarriage of the gauntlet. “You’ll have one on each hand, and here is where your propulsion of the projectile comes from. I still need to calibrate it so you aren’t using too much weight behind each shot to be fired properly, but the weapon will be nonlethal as long as you are avoiding headshots-”

Rampart finally seemed to have something to see. “NON-lethal or LESS THAN lethal?” they asked, emphasizing the need for clarification.

Ishaan stammered a bit. “W-Well, the projectiles would likely be classed as ‘less than’ no matter what I do, but I already have a calibration setting that SHOULD keep the only threat of being a lethal shot to a particularly bad headshot. The only damage we’re aiming for is akin to, as I mentioned before, what would be called an airsoft gun.”

Rampart nodded, folding their arms and thinking things over. “When’s a field test likely going to happen?” they asked, skepticism still thick in their voice.

“As soon as we confirm the calibrations I’ve set the gauntlets to are correct,” Ishaan assured with a bright, beaming smile. “We’re expecting full installation of all systems within just 3 days.”

Rampart nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “And what are the other systems going into this thing?”

Gwen chimed in with an answer of, “Total of 3 weapons systems, including the new particle launchers. A small-battery rocket system, standard issue for non-lethal crowd control, low impact, as well as your emergency option; A set of kinetic knuckles. You’ll have 3 settings, off, low, and high, low being your standard knock-back, and high able to crack any low-grade wall you come across.”

Rampart kept nodding along, putting their fingers to the chin of their helmet, almost like it were a second skin to them. “And I take it normal operating systems?”

Ishaan nodded. “For travel, you’ll be equipped with standard motor-boots for the time being. Otherwise, all Chroma standard systems. Don’t want to overload with too many experimentals, after all!” he assured again, seemingly trying to make Rampart more comfortable.

The enigmatic pilot nodded again, turning to leave for now it seemed. “Keep me up to date,” they said before turning. “Oh, and… Gwen? Right? We gotta talk more about those particle launchers. Sound fascinating.”

Gwen seemed to perk up a little at that, beaming a little with pride at the interest. Once the pilot was gone, she turned back to Ishaan. “Well? Let’s get this done.”

Rampart marched down the halls towards the hangar bay, intent on taking a patrol flight, mostly to clear their nerves. This was cut off when they heard on the intercom chime a short tune overhead, saying, “Pilot ER-37, callsign Rampart. Please report to Conference Room 7. Rampart, please report to conference 7.”

Once the intercom chimed to sign off, Rampart sighed, catching their helmet fog for a moment. Without hesitation, they diverted their course towards the nearest elevator, hitting the 2nd floor button and heading down.

It took them only about 5 minutes to reach the conference room, expecting to see their immediate superior… And instead seeing a doctor, a distressed looking man, and one of the magi. “Well this is an interesting line-up,” they commented from the doorway before entering. “I’m starting to wonder why I got brought in.”

The doctor spoke up first, his older tone serious. “Rampart, this is Mr. Kierson. He’s in a bit of a bind, as he’s only in-country for another couple of days. His daughter, however, has to stay for medical reasons.”

Rampart nodded to Mr. Kierson, offering a hand to shake which the father took tentatively. “And I’m guessing there’s somewhere I fit into this plan of helping him out, right?”

“Please, miss, I-” Mr. Kierson began before Rampart cut them off.

“Sir, please. And if I can help, I’m going to,” they explained comfortingly.

Mr. Kierson nodded, falling silent for the moment.

The magi spoke up next, her fingers drumming the table. “It will be temporary arrangements, but we noticed you were currently labeled as living alone. Is this true?” she asked in a thick Bostonian accent.

Rampart nodded. “Not exactly, but I do have spare space regardless. I take it I’ll essentially be a sponsor until better living’s available?”

The magi nodded. “That will be the long and short of it. Though, there is one thing you should know, which is why I am involved.” Extending her hand, the magi explained, “My name is Scholar Elise Lecroux, mystic division, 3rd class, ambassador to the Astral Light organization. The Astral Light has agreed to take on the job of getting the young Ms. Kierson free of a curse plaguing her. The important part is that the curse is possession, which we’ve managed to stave off with a counter-possession.”

Rampart blinked under their helmet. “So… There’s essentially three mouths I’d be feeding? That’s… A little more than my budget can handle…” they mused, suddenly a little more tentative about shaking any more hands.

Elise shook her head. “Not quite the situation. There are three souls you’re takin’ in, but you only need to concern yourself with Ms. Kierson’s needs. The two possessions won’t need any support beyond what the Astral Light is giving.”

Rampart nodded, clearly not fully understanding and being out of their depth massively, but the hand running up and down her own bicep gave away that their heart bled for this kid they just now learned existed. After a moment of silent contemplation, the only question left on their mind was, “Anything else I should prepare for?”

Elise shook her head. “Not unless there is some special need Mr. Kierson hasn’t told us.”

“N-No, m- Sir! Sir… No, sir. Nothing else,” Mr. Kierson stammered out, a thick Swedish accent making him need to enunciate more than usual, it seemed. He smiled and offered his hand again. “Thank you so much for taking care of my little girl. I know it was a difficult choice…”

Rampart took off their helmet and smiled, taking the father’s hand firmly and giving it a good shake. “No need to worry, Mr. Kierson. If I couldn’t have, we’d have found someone able to take care of your daughter. And you have my total assurance I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.”

The doctor smiled. “In that case, let’s get information all settled in before we let you go and get you introduced, shall we?” He slid a paper across the table for Rampart to fill out, along with the pen to do so.

It wasn’t until dinner that Gwen managed to break away from the project. In fairness, it was an impressively productive day at least, but she was starving by the time she climbed into the seat with Batu.

“You okay?” he brother asked.

Gwen rubbed her slightly-pulsing headache. “Yeah… Kinda… Not really. I think I worked too hard… But at least we’re already almost done. We’ll probably be ready for a first test pilot by mid-week.”

Batu smiled as he turned on some soft music for his sister. “That’s good, at least. Here,” he said, handing her a water bottle. Not his first rodeo with his sister’s work life.

Gwen took the bottle and drank long and hard as Batu began heading towards the usual seafood restaurant. “I already called the order in, at least…” she growled out through her relieved throat. “You were going with your usual, I hope.”

“I was,” Batu admitted casually. “Haven’t been home, either, so I admit I dunno if the place burned down.”

Gwen shrugged. “It’s probably fine… Doc’s orders were for the big guy to keep it cool, and I doubt the normal tennants did anything terrible.”

Batu shrugged in kind. “Guess we’ll see.”

The rest of the ride was mostly quiet, aside from the music. They picked up food, collected the groceries Batu bought on his way to pick up Gwen, and made it home in one piece…

And almost on queue, as they walked inside, one of their tenants was rushing downstairs. The middle-aged woman who lived right above on the first floor.

“What’s going on, Lettie?” Batu asked, casual but concerned.

“I dunno, I just heard a thud and came to check,” she said. “Sounded REAL heavy which is why I’m worried about the new guy, kinda.”

Gwen and Batu shared a look before they split up, dumping the bags in their hands on the front desk without a second thought. Batu made way for their room, while Gwen ducked into the basement.

Gwen found him first. “Travis!” she screamed as she saw him trying to roll onto his back at the bottom of the basement stairs. “Lettie, call 911!”

(PREV / ALL \ NEXT)

[calummss]

Cold Hands, Warm Hearts | Kylo Ren

masterlist

summary: kylo is supposed to fix the furnaces after they shut down, not make them cool out starkiller base

requested by: @theimaginesawakenvii

words: 1K

a/n: my account was terminated so i’m reposting

Starkiller Base was cold enough already. After all; it was located on an ice planet. You never realised how cold it was until the furnaces shut off and frost would start to build up in the hallways. You were never able to get used to it, no matter how long you stayed. Furnaces shutting off was a normal day to day occurrence. Usually when this happened, the engineers would bolt to the heart of the base and fix it within 10 minutes. Those 10 minutes always felt like hell. You would wrap yourself in one of Kylo’s bedsheets and pace around the room trying to create a higher body temperature. Did it work? Absolutely not. Would you still do it? Of course. It so happened that one day, all the engineers were on the Finalizer and the frost filled the halls. Out of this exact reason, Kylo took it upon himself to learn how to fix them. He could not have his commanders and girlfriend freeze to death. It was thrilling to date the galaxy’s most powerful and feared man, but also to have him wrapped around your little finger.

The Base was filled with warm air as you made your way into the main command center.

‘General Hux,’ you bowed your head. ‘Supreme Leader Snoke wishes to see you.’

‘Very well. Take charge whilst I’m gone.’

‘On it, Sir.’

With that he left through the big steel doors leaving you alone with all the generals and workers.

‘You.’ you turned to one of the workers. ‘What’s Hux working on?’

‘The blueprints for the super weapon, Miss.’

‘Draw them up.’

The plan popped onto one of the high tech screens and blasted a bright blue light onto your face. You continued to work until you were interrupted by non other than Kylo Ren.

‘What are you doing?’ the robot-like voice echoed from his helmet.

‘Working on the beam that’s supposed to wipe out an entire planet. What have you been doing?’ you turned your back to him. ‘Guessing you were discussing stuff with Snoke and Hux. You know…, I don’t trust Snoke. Not one bit. You should ta-‘

‘Not know Y/N. If someone hears you it’s going to end bad for both of us.’

‘Fine.’ you huffed.

‘Let’s go to my chambers.’ he held out his hand which was concealed in his black leather glove.

You took a breath and put your hand into his, taking down the blueprints to keep them secure. On your way to the chambers, you noticed several guards running towards the south side of the base. Not batting an eyelash you continued to walk by Kylo’s side before arriving at his door. He confirmed his identity and the door slid up, revealing the white rooms with black finishings.

‘You know, you should add more spark to your room.’ you walked through his room.

Meanwhile he took off his helmet to reveal his soft black curls that curled up upon the sides of his face.

Then you felt a wave of coldness take over your body.

‘Kylo...is the furnace broken or something? It seems rather cold.’ you held your arms across your chest trying to trap some of your leftover body heat.

Kylo reappeared to your sight, grabbing his helmet before closing the door.

Great.

You were guessing he was going to fix the heating problem. Since it was going to take around 10 minutes, you grabbed your electric heating blanket. It was a gift from Kylo. He gave it to you when you arrived on Starkiller Base. He knew how sensitive you were with the cold. In fact—you were the only person with such a blanket. No one else was in possession of anything like it. You walked towards the sofa and plopped yourself onto the soft blue cushions. You pulled your legs to your chest and quickly wrapped yourself in the black cover trying to reheat your body. You were staring at the ceiling waiting for Kylo to return. It felt like Kylo had been gone for ages. Suddenly you felt even colder than before, like Starkiller Base had just shut down entirely. You turned up the temperature of your blanket and snuggled your face into the warm fabric. About to curse, the door opened and Kylo stepped inside.

‘And?’ you raised an eyebrow at him.

He took off his gloves and placed them onto a near countertop, leaning his back against it.

‘I tried to fix it, but it switched up, so now it’s starting to blow cold air through the vents and all…’

‘Are you serious?’

He nodded, setting his lightsaber aside, heading towards the couch you were sitting on.

‘I tried my best you know.’

‘Looks like you didn’t try enough.’ you snickered. ‘It’s kind of funny if you think about it,’

He tilted his head with questioning eyes.

‘I mean, you were supposed to fix it aka make it warm again, yet you made it cooler.’

‘Well with that attitude I might have to take this away.’ he yanked the blanket out of your grasp and held it above your head.

You jumped up; immediately the cold air hit your skin, forming goosebumps.

‘Kylo, give it back.’ you protested.

‘Maybe you should’ve appreciated my will to try.’

You jumped up high and managed to grab the end of the blanket. ‘Now give it back.’

Apparently Kylo was in no mood to be the understanding partner he is and with the span of your attention looking around the room, he pulled it out of your grasp again.

‘Kylo this isn’t funny anymore.’ you crossed your arms. ‘I’m genuinely freezing.’

It was at this point where Kylo noticed the shivering, and chattering of your teeth. He quickly unfolded the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling it tight in front of your chest. He pulled you in by the ends of the fabric and held you in his arms. You snuggled yourself into his chest, feeling his warmth radiating through your body. Still holding on to each other, you waddled back to the couch, falling onto the soft seats.

‘You know,’ you started. ‘I’ll have to remind myself, to not ask you to fix the furnaces again…’

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Out Of Time ~ 129

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,050ish

Summary: The separate teams prepare for the battle against Thanos. (gifs aren’t mine)

Y/N was standing in front, staring at space as it whizzed by, when Tony came over and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He pressed a kiss just behind her ear, pulling her closer.

“What are you thinking about?” Tony whispered.

“How I’m suppose to be prepared for something, but I have no idea what,” Y/N whispered.

“The fate of the universe is not on you.”

“But it is, Tony… and there’s—“

“No.” He quickly, yet carefully, turned Y/N around to face him. “This is not on you.” His hands held Y/N’s face to look at him. “Whatever happens is not your fault.”

“You can’t say that. We don’t know what will happen yet.”

“You’re right, we don’t. But I will not let you feel the way you are feeling. And I promise, that I will not let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not worried about me… I’m worried about everyone else… it’s too much… it’s all too much…” 

Her eyes were tearing up, and this was all breaking Tony’s heart. He pulled her into his chest, cradling her head. It was killing him to see her like this, but he really didn’t know how to fix it. Tony didn’t understand exactly what Y/N needed to do, and he was coming to the conclusion that she didn’t either.

The two could feel the engines begin to slow. With Tony keeping an arm around Y/N, the two looked through the large window. The ship was approaching a planet. Peter and Dr. Strange joined the couple by the window.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Peter asked.

“I think we’re here,” Strange replied.

“I don’t think this rig has a self-park function,” Tony said, looking around. He left Y/N’s side, waving Peter over to where he was going. “Get your hand into this steering gimbal. Close those around it. You understand?”

“Yep, got it,” Peter responded, quickly following Tony’s directions as Tony put one of his arms in it as well.

“This was meant for one big guy, so we gotta to move at the same time.”

“Okay. Okay. Ready.” Out the window, Y/N could see that the ship was heading straight for the center of some wreckage. “We might wanna turn. Turn! Turn! Turn!!”

Tony tapped his reactor, armoring up. “Y/N! Get over here!”

Before Y/N could reach Tony’s side, the ship clipped a piece of rumble on the planet, throwing Y/N to the side. Peter has his helmet come up as Dr. Strange stepped between them, creating a shield for the rough landing. As the ship, shook and plowed through the dirt, Y/N portaled herself over to Tony. She wrapped her arms around him to keep steady, only for them both to be thrown to the ground. Parts of the ship flew off before it finally came to a stop. Tony’s helmet disappeared as he searched Y/N for any injuries. He quickly noticed that her breathing was fast and her eyes were clenched shut.

“Honey, honey,” Tony called. “You’re okay. Hey, look at me. Look at me.” She shakily looked up at Tony from her position curled up into his side. “We are safe. You are okay. You’re not hurt. Right?”

“I… I’m… o-okay…” Y/N stuttered softly.

“You haven’t had something like that in awhile.” Tony sighed before kissing her head. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise.” Dr. Strange came over and helped them up. “You alright?” Tony asked Strange, who nodded. “That was close. I owe you one.”

“Let me just say,” Peter started, descending from above like a spider, “if aliens wind up implanting eggs in my chest or something, and I eat one of you, I'm sorry.”

Tony pointed at Peter. “I don't wanna hear another single pop culture out of you for the rest of the trip. You understand?”

“I'm trying to say that... something is coming.”

Suddenly, a grenade rolled into view and the foursome was thrown back as it fired an energy pulse. Three beings appeared in the doorway.

“THANOS!” A blue man yelled. 

He flung a blade at Dr. Strange, who deflected it with a mystical shield and in return his cloak smothered the man’s face, throwing him to the floor. Y/N and Tony were quickly on their feet. One of the men went straight for Tony. They have a brief dogfight until a magnetic disc pinned Tony face first to a structure. An alien woman came up from behind Y/N, putting her hands on her head, entering her mind.

“Sleep,” the alien woman commanded. Y/N dropped to the floor, unconscious. 

“Y/N!” Tony shouted.

The alien walked towards Peter, who was crawling back frantically. “AH!” Peter exclaimed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Please don’t put your eggs in me!”

Peter shot a web at Mantis in a panic, pinning her arms to her body just before the man that attacked Tony flew at him feet-first, kicking him away.

“Stay down, clown!” The man ordered.

The man fired at Spider-man, who extended his spider legs and leapt away. Peter couldn’t get far before an electric-like cord wrapped around him and his six new legs. It set him rolling across the deck.

“Die, blanket of death!” The blue man cried, struggling with he cloak.

Tony pulled free of the magnet and stepped on the blue man’s torso. The cloak pulled free as soon as Tony had the man securely under his foot. The other man had Spider-Man in a head-lock, gun pointed at his head. Dr. Strange had a musical shield up and stood ready to attack. The alien woman struggled to her feet, still covered with webbing.

“Ugh…” Y/N groaned, slowing sitting up while holding her head. 

“Y/N,” Tony called. “Are you—“

“Alright, everybody stay where you are!” The man holding Spider-Man in a headlock ordered. “Chill the F out.” The man powered off his helmet. “I’m gonna ask you this one time. Where’s Gamora?”

Tony hid his helmet as well. “Yeah, I'll do you one better,” Tony responded. “Who’s Gamora?”

“I’ll do you one better. Why is Gamora?” The man beneath Tony’s foot fired back.

“Tell me where the girl is, or I swear to you, I'm gonna French-fry this little freak,” the man holding Spider-Man threatened.

“Let's do it!” Tony responded, extending a nano-tech canon at the blue man. “You shoot my guy, I blast him. Let's go!”

“Do it, Quill! I can take it!” The blue man exclaimed.

“No, he can’t take it!” The alien woman replied.

“She’s right,” Dr. Strange said. “You can’t.”

"Oh yeah? You don't wanna tell me where she is?” Quill continued. “That's fine. I'll kill all four of you and beat it out of Thanos myself.” He looked at Spider-Man. “Starting with you.”

“Stop!” Y/N yelled, freezing everyone in place. She stood up. “No one is killing anyone!”

“Why can’t I—“

“She’s controlling us,” the alien woman stated. “She’s extremely powerful.”

“Wait, what? Thanos?” Dr. Strange questioned, realizing what Quill had said. “Alright, let me ask you this one time: What master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve?” Quill repeated. “What am I supposed to say? “Jesus”?"

“You’re from Earth?” Tony asked.

“I'm not from Earth. I'm from Missouri.”

“Yeah, that's on Earth, dip-shit. What are you hasseling us for?”

“So, you’re not with Thanos?” Spider-Man questioned.

“With Thanos?!” Quill repeated. “No, I'm here to kill Thanos! He took my girl- Wai- who are you?”

Spider-Man’s helmet disappeared. “We’re the Avengers, man.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the ones Thor told us about!” The alien woman stated.

“Thor,” Y/N breathed out, still keeping everyone in place. 

“You know Thor?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Quill responded. “Tall guy, not that good-looking, needed saving.”

“Where is he now?” Dr. Strange asked.

“With our other friends, going to make a weapon,” the woman responded.

“Y/N, you can let us go know,” Tony said. 

With a deep breath, Y/N let everyone be free. They all moved to standing positions, Tony beside Y/N.

“So you’re Y/N?” The woman walked up to her. “Thor mentioned you.”

“Really?” Y/N questioned.

“He said you were powerful,” Quill stated. “But he also said you were on Earth.”

“Yeah, guess not all Thor says is true.”

“Star-Lord, by the way,” Quill introduced himself.

“Right,” Tony nodded. “I’m Iron Man. This is Dr. Strange and Spider-Man.” He pointed to the others he introduced.

“I’m Drax,” the blue man said.

“And I’m Mantis,” the alien woman added.

“Okay, now that introductions are out of the way,” Tony started, “let’s go see what’s out there.”

Grabbing Y/N’s hand, Tony led her, and the others, towards an opening in the ship. The planet outside had clearly been through something war-like, and there was no sign of life anywhere. Star-Lord went down on one knee, getting out some sort of device.

“The heck happened to this planet?” He wondered. “It’s eight degrees off its axis.” He stood up. “Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

“Yeah, we can see that,” Y/N commented, looking at Mantis who was jumping joyfully high up in the air behind Star-Lord.

“Yeah, we got one advantage. He’s coming to us,” Tony stated. “We'll use it. All right, I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one. It's pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don't wanna dance with this guy. We just want the gauntlet.” Drax then choose this time to yawn. “Are you yawning? In the middle of this, while I'm breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

“I stopped listening after you said, "We need a plan.”” Drax replied.

“Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.”

“See, "not winging it" isn't really what they do,” Star-Lord responded.

“Uh, what exactly is it that they do?” Spider-Man asked.

“Kick names, take ass,” Mantis answered, meekly.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Drax agreed.

Tony paused, looking deeply hopeless. Quietly, Y/N’s breathing hitched as her head started buzzing. Thankfully, Tony didn’t notice to worry about it.

“Alright, just get over here, please,” Tony continued. “Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“‘Mr. Lord’,” Star-Lord repeated with a chuckle. “Star-Lord is fine.” He motioned Drax and Mantis to come closer.

“We gotta coalesce. 'Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude—“

“Dude, don't call us plucky. We don't know what it means. Alright, we're optimistic, yes. I like your plan. Except it sucks, so let me do the plan, and that way it might be really good.”

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe,” Drax urged.

“A dance-off?” Y/N repeated, trying to ignore the buzzing.

“It’s not a… it’s not… it’s nothing,” Star-Lord stuttered.

“Like in Footloose, the movie?” Spider-Man wondered.

“Exactly like Footloose! Is it still the greatest movie in history?”

“It never was.”

“Don’t encourage this, alright?” Tony told Peter.

“Okay.”

“We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here.”

“Flash Gordon?” Star-Lord repeated. “By the way, that's a compliment. Don't forget, I'm half human.” He pointed at Y/N, Tony, and Parker. “So that 50% of me that's stupid? That's 100% you.”

“Your math is blowing my mind.”

“Excuse me,” Mantis nervously interrupted. “But… does your friend often do that?”

Everyone looked in the direction Mantis was pointing. Floating slightly above the ground, was Dr. Strange clearly using the Time Stone. Strange was cross-legged with green energy forming circular patterns around his forearms. His eyes were closed and his head jerked rapidly from side to side, blurring. The others went to his side. 

As Y/N grew closer, a green strand of energy slowing touched her head. She froze and her eyes shone green. Everyone was too busy with Strange to notice though. Her vision quickly changed. It was dark at first, but slowly each of the Stones shined on a gauntlet. The fingers snapped and her field of vision was suddenly filled with people screaming and disappearing into ash. She looked around for anyone she knew, no one was recognizable. 

Quickly, the setting changed. She was standing on a war-torn battle, that was vaguely familiar. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people and aliens were battling each other. She recognized many of those people as her family, her friends. They were dirty, bloody, and clearly fighting for their lives. Y/N looked around to see Thanos fighting herself.

“In five years time, the final battle will commence,” the Stones gravely voice filled her ears. “This is where you will be needed… If you try to stop what happens here today, we will stop you.”

Outside Y/N’s mind, Tony had made his was to Strange.

“Strange, we alright?” Tony wondered. Strange snapped out of his trance and fell forward, letting out a cry. “You’re back. You’re alright.” Tony steadied him.

“Hey, what was that?” Peter asked.

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures,” Strange Panted. “To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

“How many did you see?” Star-Lord wonders.

“14,000,605.”

“How many did we win?” Tony asked.

Strange stared intently at Tony for a moment, almost sad like. Before looking past him at Y/N. “One.”

Everyone turned to look where Strange was looking. Y/N was still standing, with green eyes and green energy encircling her head. Tony rushed over, grasping Y/N by the arms.

“Y/N!” Tony called, trying gently to shake her out of whatever was happening. “Come on, honey. Push through!”

~~~

The quinjet ride to Wakanda was full of silent tension, silent worry. No one knew what exactly was coming, or how to stop it.

“Drop 2600, heading 0-3-0,” Steve instructed, walking up behind Sam who was piloting.

“I hope you’re right about this, Cap,” Sam said. “Or we’re gonna land a lot faster than you want to.”

From the looks of it, they were heading straight for the trees. But as the quinjet continued on, the tree were revealed to be a camouflage force field and the grand city of Wakanda appeared. Once they landed, Steve and Natasha exited first, with Rhodey, Bruce, Wanda, Vision, and Sam behind them.

“Seems like I’m always thanking you for something,” Steve stated as he reached out to shake T’Challa’s.

T’Challa shook Steve’s hand before looking at Bruce. “Uh, we don’t do that here,” T’Challa said, waving for Bruce to stop. “So how big of an assault can we expect?” T’Challa turned around and the team began following after him.

“Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault,” Bruce answered, trying to push his way closer to the front.

“How we looking?” Nat asked.

“You will have my King’s Guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…” T’Challa trialed off, as Bucky walked up to the others.

“A semi-stable, 100-year-old man,” Bucky joked. With smiles on their faces, Steve and Bucky shared a hug.

“How you been, Buck?” Steve asked.

“Uh, not bad, for the end of the world,” he replied with a smile. “Have you… uh, have you heard from Y/N?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Steve shook his head and sighed. “But I have heard she’s been sneaking around with you and Stark. You’re going to have to tell me all about it as soon as this is through.”

Bucky let out a light laugh. “As long as you buy the beer.”

~~~

Leaving Rhodey, Bucky, and Sam to watch from outside, the rest went and met Shuri in her lab. Vision laid down on an exam table while Shuri used her technology to create a hologram projection of the Mind Stone above him. Bruce was on the other side of the table, watching her very movement. 

“Whoa. The structure is polymorphic,” Shuri stated.

“Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially,” Bruce told her.

“Why didn’t you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?” Shuri asked. Vision turned to Bruce, seemingly asking the same thing with his eyes.

“Because, we didn’t think of it,” Bruce answered with uncertainty. 

“I’m sure you did your best,” Shuri reassured with a smile. 

“Can you do it?” Wanda asked.

“Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures.” Shuri turned to T’Challa. “It will take time, brother.”

“How long?” Steve asked, stepping closer to them.

“As long as you can give me.” 

A chime went off and Okoye quickly projected a hologram globe into her palm. “Something’s entered the atmosphere,” Okoye informed.

“Hey, Cap, we got a situation here,” Sam warned over the comms. 

Almost as soon as his words ended, a forcefield formed over the city. Bucky and Sam watched as alien vessels landed outside the barrier. One of them tried to go through, getting destroyed.

“Gosh, I love this place,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, don’t start celebrating yet, guys,” Rhodey warned. “We got incoming outside the dome.”

The landing vessels emitted shock waves and debris, destroying the forest. The Captain and the King looked at each other, both deeply concerned. Vision struggled to sit up and slide off the exam table, holding onto his side.

“It’s too late,” he said. “We need to destroy the stone now.”

“Vision, get your ass back on the table,” Nat demanded.

“We will hold them off,” T’Challa stated as he and his guards started for the door. 

Steve turned to Wanda. “Wanda, as soon as the stone’s out of his head… you blow it to hell,” He instructed.

“I will,” Wanda replied.

“Evacuate the city. Engage all defense procedures,” T’Challa commanded. He stopped before fully exiting the room, turned, and pointed to Steve. “And get this man a shield.”

Steve looked out the window, watching the ships crash land outside the barrier. He couldn’t help but wonder what all this had to do with his sister exactly. But there was a bigger question than that in his mind, a more important question.

“Where the hell are you, Y/N?” He whispered to himself.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2​​. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

[sassanoe]

Love at first fright - Thomas Sharpe

Masterlist

-Is a slight Marvel crossover. The main character is the younger sister of Tony Stark, the only real crossover with this.-

Thomas and Lucille Sharpe have been dead for over 100 years. Allerdale Hall had been untouched all this time. Though now there is a young woman who bought the house, unknowing of the ghost that will come with it. She is a smart, independent woman who just wanted a side project and a break from her busy life. Well, she will be getting a break, just not the kind she hoped.

The flight to Allerdale Hall took forever.“Tony, did you have to come with me?” She said, “Well, your suit I mean.” She huffed not liking that her brother sent his suit with her. “I am not a child anymore, it's an old house. What, do you think a ghost will bully me?” She sassed the suit. “No, this just helps me to feel better, should something happen you will be safe.” He responded with just as much an attitude as his sister. “I am also sending the suit so that no men bother you. You are twenty-two, a Stark, and a billionaire, little sister. I don’t exactly want anything to happen to you. Who else will yell at me?” She giggled “Literally everyone, Tony.” “It’s not the same little sister.” He chuckled. “I’ll call you later, I’m pulling into the drive now. Looks like a crime scene, here.” “Well stay safe, I love you.” “I love you too, Tony.” She smiled and hung up.

Thomas stood looking out the window at the path leading to the house. A strange contraption coming up with a woman with strange clothing getting out of the said contraption. He hoped she wasn’t coming in here, but he knew she was. Lucille will not be happy with a woman in the house. He watched as she pulled out a key then the main doors opened. He floated down to watch quietly as the young woman walked in “F.R.I.D.A.Y. Do a scan of the house and area, please. I would like to have a blueprint of the house.” A metal man came flying in going through the whole house scanning everything. Before it came back and landed next to the mystery woman again. “Miss Stark, everything has been scanned as well I sent the information to your brother.” “Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”  Thomas stayed in the shadows watching quietly.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., how long will it take to restore the home with some tech improvement?" She asked, "Should take but a month using the equipment we came with." The metal thing responded. "Perfect." Taking off her jacket, she set it on the arm of the suit. She looked around them and smiled "A perfect project. My bags, please."  Thomas smiled slightly, she was very pretty though her clothes were strange. The suit went out to retrieve her things, then followed her up the stairs. He followed behind quietly as she kept walking until she selected a room. He watched as she started to clean it with the help of the A.I. She smiled and started pulling open drawers.

 "Thomas Sharpe." He froze. Did she know he was there, waiting for anything else he went closer to see she found his diary. "Must be the former owner of the house. F.R.I.D.A.Y. search Thomas Sharpe. I wish to know as much about the owner. It will possibly help in restoring the home to its former glory." She handed his diary to the metal man. It scanned through everything in the diary, as she went about her business. 

"Thomas Sharpe, 34 years of age, engineer, industrialist, the previous owner of Allerdale Hall. His diary reads that he was sexually involved with his sister, who killed their mother, along with killing his previous wives. They would steal his wife's money then move to the next one. His sister and he had a child that was born wrong, resulting in its death. He fell in love with a woman named Edith Cushing. He is also the creator of the machine outside. Do you wish to fix that as well?" Thomas was shocked, how had the metal thing known all of these things and read his diary. "Poor man," She sighed "Yes, I wish to fix the machine, maybe get it running better. As well, would you start repairing the home's pipes and such, along with adding better electricity, so that I will be able to charge you?" "Yes, Miss Stark." The metal man left. Thomas was shocked as all the young woman had to say was, poor man. 

“This was Thomas’s room then. I'll need to get F.R.I.D.A.Y. to order me a new mattress, bedding, and the bathroom also needs to be fixed. I didn't know the house would need this much love and care, but it will be worth it." She turned and put one of the boxes on the bed and started going through it before she started to pull off her top. Thomas looked away quickly, positive if he was still alive he would be red in the face. She walked through him to the dresser and he was even more shocked. She had on the smallest of shorts and a top that left barely anything to the imagination. Surely that was her undergarments. The metal thing came back into the room. "Y/N Y/M/N Stark!"

She groaned "Yes?" "What the hell do you think you're doing? Why didn't you make sure there was running water and such already there?" Thomas looked at the metal man confused, it sounded different now. "Because I am hard-headed much like my older brother." The metal man was her brother? There was a huff, "I'm sending my other suits to fix the house in a week you will leave then come back." "Dammit, Tony!" Thomas smiled slightly, such vulgar language for a woman. "As your older brother, I would feel better about it." She huffed "Fine, but I want to stay." "Deal." 

The metal man then left the room again. The woman he now knew as Y/N walked back down to the library. He watched as Lucille came from the darkness in the corner, as Y/N took a seat at the piano. "Leave her alone," Thomas growled to his sister. "What do you love her?" Lucille glared at him as Y/N started playing the piano. "She will not have what is mine!" Lucille yelled. Thomas broke a vase to try and make Y/N leave, but she just glanced then went back to playing. Lucille started to make the chandelier shake and fall. Thomas quickly tackled Y/N to the ground out of the way protecting her. Y/N screamed and then everything was quiet. He glared at Lucille before looking to Y/N. She was looking at him in shock. "W-Who are you?" She asked softly, scanning her eyes over his face. Lucille started to make her way towards them, Thomas quickly helped her up and brought her to her room before disappearing again. Y/N stood there shocked. "There is a ghost." She said quietly.

A week had passed, the house was in perfect condition thanks to her brother, and no ghost was to be seen. Walking back to her room she huffed she had been looking for him all day. "I can only assume you are watching me. I'm not scared. Honestly, I just wish to talk. Please?" She huffed and threw herself onto the bed. "I wonder, are you Sir Thomas Sharpe?" No response, she huffed and got up.

Unbeknownst to her, Thomas was in the room sitting on the end of the bed next to her. Over the week, he had learned many things about her and found himself falling in love. She was intelligent, and held her ground against her brother. She would tinker with all of his inventions, making them better. The thing he had come to love most was that she spoke to him even when she questioned if he was listening. She would read aloud, ask his opinion only to receive no answer. He thought it cute when she would call out that she was going to bathe or change and tell him he better not look.

He followed as she went to the attic. He never understood why she didn't have it fixed. She sat on the chair up there. Lucille hated it every time he came up here with her. "What is she doing in our room." Lucille snapped to Thomas, "Lucille, leave-" "Thomas?" The voice was soft, making him look to the woman in the chair. "You keep defending and protecting her! It can't simply be because she is alive. You love her, but you should only love me, Thomas!" Lucille growled at him. "What? Do you wish to fuck her too!" Thomas continued to ignore his sister.

"Would it be so hard for me to see you? Just once more, please?" Y/N said softly, "I truly wish to thank you for saving me. You didn't have to, but you did." Once again, she got no response. Walking over to the things on the table she gently ran her fingers across the top of the bed. "I am going to assume something major happened here."

Lucille looked to Thomas "Make her leave, or I will. I am sick of her calling your name. Speaking to you as if she loves you. She will never love you, because you are dead. I love you Thomas and that is enough." 

Y/N looked around and thought of everything F.R.I.D.A.Y. told her. She sighed something about the attic just gave her a weird feeling that was why she left it but she sighed. "This will be the next to go then." She walked through Thomas and Lucille going back down to her room. Everything in the home had been updated now having a slightly modern feel to it, because of this she was able to see what he looked like. Having read his diary and his journals for his machines she found she was intrigued by this man. She laid in the bed with a frown. "Your sister murdered you."

"She did." Y/N jumped out of her spot staring at him. "Thomas?" He nodded, and she smiled brightly. "Have you been watching over me?" He nodded again. "Oh please speak again. I would love to hear your voice." He smiled at that, "What is it you wish to hear?" She sat back on the bed with the brightest of smiles, asking him all her questions. He stayed answering every single one. Laying with her when it started to get late. She spoke to him of her brother and how she was sure the two would get along.

Months had passed, and the two had only grown closer. With their growing close, Thomas started to look like his human self. Though he was still very much a ghost. They would read together, cook, bake, and Y/N would show him how modern technology works. He learned she was a businesswoman and she learned he was not the murderer he seemed to think himself as. But, as their friendship and love grew, so did Lucille's jealousy. Many times Y/N was saved by Thomas from his sister. When they shared their first kiss Lucille ruined it.

Thomas and Y/N had been in the kitchen. She was dancing around the kitchen with him as they waited for her cookies to bake. Both seemed utterly happy. Her timer went off and Thomas was just not letting her go. She smiled and laughed struggling. "Thomas stop." She giggled breaking away. "Never." He smiled, grabbing her around the waist pulling her close. She looked up at him smiling before throwing flour in his face making her laugh hard. "Now you look as I had first seen you." He returned the favor, throwing some at her. She took the cookies out quickly before the two had continued to play around. Running around the island, he disappeared making her look around frantically.

 "Thomas?" She questioned quietly before she had flour dumped all over her. "Thomas! How could you!" She gasped before smirking and hugging him rubbing up on him returning the favor making him covered in flour. He hugged her tight so she couldn't move, making her smile. They both stared into each other's eyes leaning forward sharing a soft kiss. The room started to get colder and Thomas pulled away quickly looking to find Lucille. Right before she threw the knife Thomas pushed Y/N out of the way.

Ever since that day anything Y/N and Thomas started whether it is kissing or touching of any form something happened. "Thomas, darling. I am sick and tired of your sister. I can't even kiss you. This has been going on for months." Y/N sighed, taking a seat on the bed. Thomas frowned, "I know, and I'm sorry." She went to say something more before the A.I. went off speakers having been made into every room. "Miss Stark, your brother had received a book from Wanda for you regarding your situation, and it has arrived." She perked up "Lovely." "Darling what did you need a book for?" She looked to Thomas, "One to make you a physical and living man for but a few hours a day, along with a protection spell."

Later the same night had the two done the two spells granting Thomas life from dawn till dusk. The other spell simply being a protection spell in their room. No other worldly beings or ghosts will be able to bother them whilst the spell was in effect. "Are we sure this worked?" Thomas asked as she got up. "We are about to find out." He watched her confused as she opened the bedroom door before coming back over and pushing him onto the bed and kissing him.

He pulled away slightly, "Darling, why did you open the door?" She grinned, "I'm laying my claim." He still looked slightly confused and she continued. "If the protection spell worked your sister can't enter the bedroom. So I want to make love to you." His eyes widened, "You want her to see?" He asked, shocked "What if she hurts you once you leave the room?" Y/N smiled softly "Then we just won't be leaving the room." She smiled, making him smile in turn and kiss her.

[certifiedskywalker]

Dating Luke Skywalker Would Include...

Anonymous said: hello, how are you? was wondering if i could get some meeting and dating (young) luke skywalker x reader headcanons please but no pressure! have a nice day :)

AN: Thank you darling, for asking! I’m well, a little tired but well! I hope this meets (and exceeds) your expectations!

Is it cliche to say you meet Luke in the Rebellion?

However cliche it is, your meeting was a perfect whirlwind.

Tensions were running high and the Empire was breathing down your neck.

A move had to be made and, luckily for the Rebellion, the Princess of Alderaan had returned with reinforcements.

Though, at first glance, her saviours were not much to look at. 

“They rescued you?”

“It was more of a group effort,” Leia admitted, taking the data pad from your hands. “If it wasn’t for them, I would have been killed. If it weren’t for me, well, so would they.”

As she spoke, you watched the blond, the one you believe you heard Leia call Luke, bounce from pilot to pilot.

He looked as eager as a protocol droid at a linguistic convention.

The noise around you seemed to muddle as you watched Luke chat with the X-Wing crews.

Even with the distance between you two, you could tell that he was cute.

Cute didn’t last long in the Rebellion; you frowned at the thought.

“That one doesn’t bite,” Leia said, breaking you from your thoughts. “The smuggler on the other hand...he’s rough around the edges.”

“Do you think they’ll stay with us?”

When you looked at Leia, waiting for her reply, you saw that her brown eyes held hints of grief in them.

“Luke will. His heart is in this fight, just like the rest of us.”

You cocked a brow at her. “Then why do you look so sad?”

Leia turned her eyes back to the data pad you had given her.

“I could introduce you if you like.”

Your chest tightened at Leia’s suggestion and, despite being many meters away, checked to see if Luke had somehow overheard the Princess.

“I’m not sure that would be-”

“Wise? When we’re on the raging end of war?”

“Exactly.”

Leia sighed and shook her head. “My parents once told me that inaction is the worse path one could take. In politics, in life, in love. Even if it is small, movement forward towards a brighter future is the best choice. Always.”

It was hard to ignore the words of Leia’s deceased, adoptive parents. 

You could see that she was hurting, still aching with the loss of her entire world. 

Reaching over, you grabbed her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze. 

“Then introduce me.”

It seemed that Leia was more than willing to step away from the rush and chaos that the Empire brought to the Rebellion’s door.

Still holding your hand, Leia dragged you over to where Luke was fluttering about.

He was midconversation with Briggs, a skilled X-Wing pilot from Tatoonine, when Leia tapped him on the shoulder.

In a flash of blond hair, you caught your first glance of his shining blue eyes.

Then you saw his smile: lopsided and charming.

In that moment you knew you were completely gone. 

What ever the future had in store, what ever battles, wars, and losses, you knew you wanted to be by Luke’s side.

It was like electricity the like of which you never felt before. 

“Luke, this is Y/N, my friend and fellow representative of the Rebel Alliance.”

Your face warmed as Luke looked you over.

Did he feel it too?

He must have because his smile widened.

“Hey, I...Hey. I’m Luke.”

He held out his hand to you and, without a second thought, you took it in yours.

“I know.”

“Hah, y-yeah, I guess you do.”

Leia stood between you, glancing at Luke then you, and back again.

She knew what was happening before either you or Luke did.

“Y/N can show you around while we get some work done. Right, Briggs? That engine isn’t going to fix itself before the charge, hmm?”

“No, ma’am,” the pilot replied.

Before Luke could tell him goodbye, Briggs was off; lest he face the wrath of Princess Organa.

“Now, run along. I have work to do,” Leia sauntered away, leaving you and Luke alone.

When you looked back at Luke, you saw that he was already staring at you; waiting for you.

Warmth flooded your face but you pushed past it.

“So, this is the hangar.”

You showed Luke the ins and outs of the Yavin VI base.

With every location or small detail you pointed out, you and Luke spent the next strides talking about yourselves.

“Tatoonine? That’s how you know Briggs?”

“Yeah. When we were younger we’d go to Tashi Station and play pilots. We were free to go anywhere and do anything.”

“Well, you’re not playing anymore, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess not.”

Luke scratched the back of his neck and you suddenly felt as if you had stepped over a line with your words.

“Are you alright?”

“I, uh,” Luke stopped in his tracks and shook his head. “You’re right. This isn’t a game anymore. Piloting it’s...it’s life and death.”

“It’s still free, you just have to fight for it.”

Luke lifted his head then, you meet your gaze.

There was a glint in his eyes that you would not soon forget.

A glint of hope, a new drive to live.

It made your heart swell. 

Then the sirens went off and you shoulders dropped. 

Luke’s eyes suddenly widened at that sounds, a mixture of fright and excitement in his features.

“Is that…”

“Yes,” you whispered, letting your gaze fall. “Are you flying in?”

“Y-Yeah,” in Luke’s reply you detected a nervousness.

When you looked up to meet his gaze, you see that you glint was gone, replaced by an expression you had seen so many pilots wear before.

Without thinking, you reached and grabbed Luke’s hand with yours.

“You’ll be okay. There’s great things in store for you here, Luke. Just fight.”

“Just fight,” he echoed.

You felt his hand tighten around yours before he ran off to the hangar again to ready his X-Wing.

And fight he did. 

He fought, tooth and nail with the rest of the Rebels.

When they returned, you were amongst the first to greet them.

Your eyes scanned over the gathering crowd as techs and pilots alike rejoiced in this victory.

When you finally saw Luke clambering out of his X-Wing, a flood of relief washed over.

You had known he was alive as he was the one that delivered the fatal blow to the Empire’s Death Star but seeing him, in one piece, made your heart soar.

Somehow, moving through the masses of people, you made your way over to him.

A taller man, the one Luke had come to Yavin VI with, embraced him and was soon followed by Leia, who was smiling widely.

For a moment, it felt like you were intruding on the scene.

Like you were seeing something important, something grand, and did not want it to end.

Luke was beaming and you felt silly about how much his smile made your chest ache.

You had only just met him and yet it felt as if some force (or Force) was pulling you to him.

How silly, you thought; how could something do that?

But, just as you began turning away, you felt someone grab your hand.

“Hey! We fought!”

“And we won!”

Luke pulled you close and, for a split second, you thought he was going to kiss you.

But that was crazy! Too soon!

Though, you wouldn’t complain if it happened.

Instead, you were overwhelmed by the warmth of Luke’s arms around your waist, pulling you into a tight embrace. 

From that moment on, you strove towards that warmth, towards the joy held in Luke’s arms.

Since that attack on that first Death Star, you and Luke grew closer.

When he returned from missions, you were the first person he sought out to see.

“Y/N!”

“You’re back!”

You would share an embrace that would garner the stares of passersby.

If Leia was around for one of these hugs, you would catch flack about it later.

“That quite the reunion.”

“We hadn’t seen each other in over a cycle it seems!”

“No need to get defensive,” Leia would say with a smile. “It’s just an observation.”

“I know that tone.”

“Then you know what I’m implying.”

Leia and Han bond over teasing your bond with Luke.

Wholesome all around.

About a month before the Rebel Alliance is forced to vacate Yavin VI, you meet Luke in the makeshift cantina on base.

He was just readying to leave for a recon mission to scope out planets for a new base

And despite the excitement of that, you cannot deny how tired he looks. 

“Are you alright?”

Luke meets your gaze and there is an unfamiliar coldness in his eyes.

You reach across the table and grab his hand.

“You know you can tell me, right? You can tell me anything.”

There’s a flash of hesitance in his expression but it quickly melts away to reveal the Luke you know best.

“I know, Y/N, it’s just...I’ve been having dreams.”

Luke explains his dreams, his nightmares.

Some are about Ben Kenobi, a man you never met but Luke insists you would have loved as he had.

Others, Luke explains, are about that battle, that final shot into the Death Star.

“Some nights I miss and there’s a different explosion. One of war and pain and...I..”

“Hey,” you squeeze his hand, bringing Luke’s attention back to you. “You didn’t miss. You and those squadrons saved countless lives.”

Luke nods but you can tell he is not easily convinced. 

“I see faces in those dreams. People I’ve known and people I don’t. They’re all in pain. I see you, too, and you’re in pain. It’s...awful. I can’t take them anymore.”

“You don’t have to go through them alone.”

As you spoke, you grow courage and entangle your fingers with Luke’s. 

At the touch, he breathing evens and you can see the fear flee from his eyes.

“Whenever you have a nightmare like that, you find me, okay? Those dreams are some darkness trying to twist you.”

You squeeze his hand again.

“I’m right here, still alive, and breathing like you.”

“Y/N, I’m in l-”

“Master Luke!”

Before Luke could finish what he was about to say, a familiar, golden protocol droid waddled up to where you were sitting.

“Master Luke! Princess Organa has sent me looking after you all around the base!”

“What does she need, Threepio?”

Even with his slightly annoyed tone, Luke was still holding your hand.

“You were supposed to leave Yavin VI twelve minutes ago!”

Luke’s eyes went wide and you felt his hand tighten around yours.

“She told you, several hours ago, regarding your take off time, that you-”

“I know, I know,” Luke said, shaking his head.

You gave him a fond smile, sympathizing with his flustered expression.

But when he met your gaze, you saw there was something else there, deep in his eyes.

“I thought I had more time.”

“You must leave immediately, Master Luke, to meet at the marker with Fulcrum.”

Luke’s face fell and you squeezed his hand. 

“We can talk later. It can wait until you get back.”

“Y/N, I don’t know when I’ll-”

“When you get back.”

You saw a flash of desperation in his eyes and you felt the same in your heart.

The idea of him leaving so quickly, so suddenly, pained you.

But you knew you would see him again; Luke always came back.

He always came back to you. 

“I’ll see you then, yeah?”

“Alright.”

Luke moved to slide out of his seat, his hand slipping out of yours in the process. 

“Stay safe,” you murmur, as Luke walks past you.

You saw his lips move, utter some tender reply that you could not quite make out as he strode off.

All at once, you were alone, horribly alone.

You glanced down into your empty glass sighed.

At least there were free refills.

As you moved to head towards the bar, you felt someone grab your wrist.

When you looked up, you were met with Luke’s blue eyes watching you, reading you like a data pad.

“I didn’t want to wait for this.”

Before you could ask what he meant, Luke’s hand on your wrist tightened and pull you up, closer to him. 

Warmth floods your system and then, it almost becomes a dream.

Luke presses his lips against yours and you feel like you’re floating.

It is all soft and needy and when he pulls away it feels too soon. 

Half-lidded and wanting, you hold Luke’s gaze.

“Y/N, I-”

“Master Luke!”

“You gotta go,” you whisper.

Luke nods and turns away, but his hand still lingers on his wrist.

You’re mentally preparing to watch him leave again when he turns around and kisses you again, harder than the last time. 

That was the last time you saw him before the Alliance moved to Hoth. 

You spent months waiting for him to return.

Worried for cycles, wondering if Luke was really going to come back to you.

When he finally did, you rushed to the icy hangar hungry for the sight of him.

You’re nearly slipping down halls as you basically run to him.

Just as you round the last corner…

Smack!

“Y/N!? Are you alright?”

You don’t even respond.

You’re too caught up in the fact that he is there, at last, in arms reach. 

Both of you are on the cold floor but that doesn’t matter.

You grab him by the flight suit (he didn’t even take the time to take it off, he was that eager to see you) and pull his lips to yours. 

His hands find the sides of your face and kissed you like a man stranded in the vast empty of space who found a last breath of fresh air. 

Neither of you care that you’re siting on the cold ground of the Hoth base

Or that those who pass by are staring, dumbfounded at the mess of a pilot and technician on the floor.

When you finally pull away, you and Luke are beaming at each other.

No words are said; nothing has to be said.

You’re happy enough to be together, at last.

That is perhaps the greatest thing about loving Luke.

Happiness with him comes easy.

Waking after long nights, by his side.

You often wake before him and savor the quiet moment before he stirs.

He looks so peaceful in his sleep; like the weight of the galaxy didn’t rest on his shoulders.

Like he did not wear the moniker of ‘the last jedi’.

Then, silently, Luke will wake and, with eyes still closed, he will pull you to him.

“I can feel when you stare.”

“Is that a Force thing?”

“No, it’s a you thing.”

On mornings like those, it’s hard to get up and moving.

The two of you just lie together you either get hungry or C3P0 comes rushing in to tell Luke that he’s needed somewhere on base.

That is perhaps the ‘worst’ thing about loving Luke.

Everyone else loves him too.

Everyone else needs him too.

So you have to hang on to the moments you get with him.

Those lazy mornings and those dark nights.

There are times when you and Luke feel like a Sun and Moon; always passing each other, busy with your tasks.

But you always find eachother in the end, those stolen moments when you both share the same sky, the same task, the same room.

Those moments are filled with needy kisses and the swapping of stories.

You both make a deal to go to the base’s cantina once a week for a sort of ‘date night’.

Those ‘date nights’ end one of two ways:

One: Someone, whether a droid or ranking officer, interrupts your evening.

Second: you and Luke leave after a few minutes, fearing someone, droid or officer, will interrupt your evening.

If you leave early, you just stay within one of your respective chambers.

To put it lightly, the two of you become, nearly, homebodies.

Life in the Rebellion is so wild and unpredictable that having an escape, the general reliability of your small room, is nice.

Better than nice, amazing. 

You two are able to speak freely, deeply, and do other things not suited to the public.

 “Do you think they’ll ever…?”

“Han and Leia?”

“No...well..maybe.”

When he gets lost in the snow storm that time, it takes all Leia has to keep you on base while Han searches for him. 

“You’re no good to him if you get lost too!”

Tears streamed down your face at the idea of him alone out there, facing the Hoth cold and creatures by himself.

“I love him, Leia!”

“I know! I know,” she holds you close and tries to soothe you.

Yet, you’re only soothed when Han lugs Luke through the doors. 

For the next few days, you’re sleeping in the medbay.

When you’re awake, you’re watching droids work on Luke, increasing his chances for survival. 

You’re barely sleeping.

It’s impossible to rest with the steady beep of Luke’s heart monitor.

You are studying the bruises on his skin and cuts on his face.

You’re trying to remember what he looked like before: with soft features, eyes open and full of love.

Every so often, his eyelids twitch and your heart leaps with momentary joy.

When the steady beep continues on, you fall back against your chair.

You glance at his lips and wonder if you’ll ever kiss them again.

You see the corner of his lips twitch, but you know better than to get your hopes up.

Then, the corner of his lips lifts entirely into a small, tired half smile.

“It’s a you thing.”

“Luke!”

You’re over at his side immediately, clutching his hand and pressing your lips to his cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N, I’m so-”

“Shh, no. I let you go out alone this was…”

“Don’t,” Luke warns. 

His hand grabs yours and squeezes weakly.

“I’m right here, still alive, and breathing like you.”

You can’t help but laugh lightly at his words, an echo of yours from many months before.

“Barely,” you reply, before leaning down to kiss him like the first time.

You spend time with him, getting Luke back on his feet.

He tells you about how he heard Ben’s voice, how he needs to leave.

“I feel like I just got you back.”

“I know, but I….”

“You need to do this,” you say softly.

“Yeah, I do. I don’t know how long it will take but I love you, I’ll be back.”

You smile when Luke’s eyes widen.

“I-I….”

“You love me?”

“Yes, I...I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too.”

You spend as much time with him as you can before he leaves.

“Be safe out there.”

“Always. I have to come back to you, don’t I?”

“Have to?”

“Want to. Need to.”

Even though he is many hyper jumps away, you can feel that he is alive.

You almost think it’s the Force before you know that this feeling is deeper.

It is real love.

It is something even stronger than the Force.

Something stronger than you or Luke by yourselves.

You’re strongest when you’re together and, when you are together, it feels that everything is in balance.

So you stay together through it all.

The Empire’s fall, the New Republic.

You hold his hand and he holds yours, for as long as you both can.

[joz-yyh]

Love Host - Ch. 8 (Preview)

SUMMARY: Miles and Waylon meet up for some diagnostic testing that takes a very drastic turn. No beta. Read at your own risk.

RATING: T (for this chapter ONLY!!)

PAIRING: Walmiles (WalriderxMiles)

WORD COUNT: 1,211

A/N: Doing my best to keep focused on these two long enough to finish another chapter. Comments and likes are very appreciated.

——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————–——

Clang, Clang, Clang--!

Waylon looks up from his computer chair at the pedantic knock, knowing who his pertinent guest should be, double checking the security feed just to be sure Murkoff wasn't paying him any surprise visits.

There on the monitor, is a quiff of black hair and ugly olive jacket he'd recognize a mile away. Speaking of Miles –

Waylon opens the bean hole to the main door, the grinning blue eyes of Miles fucking Upshur waiting for him on the other side.

“Hey there, WayWay, I am here for my check up,” he greets with a smile, the wave he offers just out of sight, “Oh yeah, and Wally’s here too.”

The words barely register before the nanomachine has its whole face pressed against the peephole, staring back at Waylon, completely eyeless.

The techie nearly jumps out of his skin, shutting the slat out of paranoid instinct, body wrecked by a wave of heebeegeebees.

He can see it. Why can he see it when he couldn’t as much before?

“Heeeeyy,” Miles whines, voice dampened by the steel barrier between them, ”I am still waiting out here.”

Waylon internally groans, trying to collect himself enough to unlatch the many bars securing the entrance shut.

When the final lock cracks loose, Miles is too busy comforting the Walrider to notice, holding its caricature of a face and daresay, petting it.

“Ah, you can c-come in now,” Waylon offers, standing in the doorway, watching on with morbid fixation.

“There, see,” Miles exclaims, a consoling note to his voice, “He wouldn't invite us in if he didn't like us.”

Waylon swears this scene must be slowly melting his brain from the inside out.

“Hey, Way,” the brunette asks, turning his attention to his fellow asylum survivor, “could you tell Wally that you like him, please? He thinks you're scared of him. Isn't that silly?”

He isn't scared, he's terrified.

“Yeah, s-sure. I like him,” Waylon offers weakly, swallowing down his dread.

This was absurd. A machine couldn’t have feelings and even if it did, they were none more important than his own.

“Told you! Everything's fine,” Miles chippers, the Walrider finally appeased by this discovery.

The machine gazes toward Waylon again, breaking it’s body down into smaller pieces, swooping in close to swirl around Waylon knees, then higher, drifting in a cyclone of miniature storm clouds up to his shoulders.

“Uhh, hello again, I guess,” the engineer offers shakily, trying to appear fearless and brave, even lifting a finger to touch the nanite mist surrounding him. It feels like water.

“Thanks Waylon,” Miles says, patting him on the shoulder in good sportsmanship, stepping inside.

“Yeah, sure. No problem.”

And just like that, the nano machine leaves him to follow it’s host, the dazed software engineer reminding himself that he needs to rearm the door.

Before the reporter can poke his nose in further, Waylon locks the paddock, turning on the electric fence to deter any unwanted trespassers.

“So this is where you’ve been holding up,” Miles asks, taking in the abandoned barracks, a dimly-lit trailer filled with a junkyard of abandoned tech.

The Walrider is equally curious, ghosting around the layout, dosing the army green interior in supernatural mist.

“Not quite,” Waylon amends, running a hand down his face, feeling overwhelmed by the quirky demands of his company, “This is where I work. Keeps me a safe distance away from Lisa and the kids in case anything happens.”

“Safety is important. I am sure there are no OSHA recordables in here,” the snarky brunette remarks, dodging under a duct of loose wires.

“Ha ha funny,” the blonde remarks, devoid of amusement, “the device I want to show you is over here.”

Waylon grabs him by the wrist cuff before Miles can slip away to snoop, escorting him to the testing room.

“Aren’t you going to give me a tour first,” the sleuth whines, taking in as much of the space as he can, “you can’t tell me you have a secret lair and not show me around.”

“There's really not much to see,” Waylon growls, noting his companion’s inquisitive fingers, “Also please stop touching everything.”

“Awwww,” Miles whines, dragging his feet in disappointment, a frown setting in.

“Fine, maybe later,” the techie relents, his stride persisting, “We're kinda pressed for time.”

“Oh, somewhere you gotta be,” Miles asks, perking up at that confession, raising a brow at his companion, letting himself be tugged along more easily.

“Yeah, I’d prefer to be home every night to be with my wife and kids.”

A long pause, their combined footsteps echoing off the iron grates that line the floor.

“Am I invited,” the reporter asks, smirking at the back of Waylon’s unkempt head of hair.

Another aggravated tug on his sleeve.

“Let’s just get through the testing first.”

They arrive at their destination, the very back of the bunker, a T-shaped hub. One of the doors is sealed off, making Miles wonder what could be hiding in there, the rest of the room encased by steel shelves filled with gutted parts, radios, computers, phones and the like.

In the center is a chair outfitted with restraints, a litany of auxiliary cords hooked up to various loadouts, a desk and computer terminal set up in the corner, no doubt to collect the data of whoever sits in it.

“So … this is it,” Miles says judgmentally, unimpressed, “Looks like an electric chair, but somehow more revenge of the nerds-esque.”

Waylon smacks his lips and rolls his eyes. He won’t deny it bears a striking resemblance to Mount Massive’s brainwashing devices, ones he had the untimely pleasure of experiencing for himself.

“Yeah, everyone's a critic. Just get in.”

“Is it safe,” Miles asks, skeptical of the bad vibe he was getting just looking at the creepy thing.

“As safe as any of this experimental tech is gonna be.”

Miles supposes he can’t complain, given the circumstances. He doesn’t get any of these gadgets, but there was no one else he could turn to (aside from maybe Wernickle) who could give him the answers he seeks. Still, the reporter can’t help feeling a bit uneasy about entrusting himself to diagnostic tools on a budget.

The Walrider manifests itself as a disembodied head, whistling through it’s cheeks, seeking to reassure it’s host with a trill of sound. Miles smiles, close-lipped, stroking the odd contours of its face with a gentle hand.

“Alright. I mean we’ve come this far. What other choice do we have?”

With that, the anxious human hybrid takes a seat, the next test subject for this experimental apparatus going on torture device. Waylon straps him in, tying the buckles too tight to be comfortable, but Miles suspects it's punishment for trying to pry into the engineer's private life. His head too is bridled in place, another belt across the forehead to keep him securely in an upright position.

“This will monitor your heart rate,” Waylon says, electrode pads stuck to Miles’ temple, and then after a moment a disclaimer, “I am not a doctor, though.”

“You’ll be able to tell me more about the Walrider, right,” the brunette asks, nervously clenching his hands on the arm rest.

Waylon hesitates, less than confidently offering a, “Yeah,” in response.

[all-hallows-evie]

Chapter 1: Marooned

Rating: T, for language, Canon Typical Violence/Action. Honestly, this chapter isn't that bad, the T rating is just in case I forgot about something lol

Wordcount: 3,776

Warnings: Canon typical violence and adventure, female OC with name × Tech slowburn, but not too slow lol, NOT BETA'D, because if I have to stare at this first chapter again I'm not going to post it.

A/N: HAPPY TECH TUESDAY, LOOK I'M FINALLY POSTING SOMETHING, WHEEEEEEEEEEE

There were bad ideas, really bad ideas and then there was this.

The ship hums under her feet as it trudges through the far corner of the mid rim, chugging along on it’s route without any sign of trouble or disruption from it’s preplanned course.

It should have been a routine pillaging, something she had placed firmly in the ‘great ideas’ list but instead it had turned into a routine mutiny and finished the day as a routine marooning. She sighs as she lays her head back against the seamless panel behind her.

Fucking pirates. 

She has been stranded on the old freighter for at least two moons, but it was hard to say with certainty. The droids that man the ship have no need to eat so more often than not they forget to pass along anything to keep her mounting hunger at bay, adding along to the lack of any kind of panel to the outside world, getting her bearings is proving to be more difficult than usual. 

She hisses a swear to drown out the low growl of her belly and focuses her gaze on the far corner of the room. Another day, another chance to count the diamond shaped tiles above her cell, she swears the number changes every other time she counts. She doesn’t get farther than eighteen when the door of the maintenance room blows open. 

The dust fills the room, hiding everything under its grimy shadow. The grit in the air crackles as it’s pushed against the red of the electron walls that keep her prisoner with the ships cooling coils and a water filtration unit that has calcified and has never been fixed.  

"Well look at that, we found it! Lucky break!"

"Luck had nothing to do with it, if you had studied the schematics of this cruiser like I had asked-"

"Yeah yeah yeah." The first figure, a hulking shadow in the doorway brushes off the smaller one as he stomps into the suddenly too tiny room.

"The memory core should be at the end of the-" the smaller of the two figures stops in front of her cell as the big one charges towards the end of the room without stopping. They launch themselves into the piles of junk thrown haphazardly inside, "That's concerning."

"Concerning? You see someone in a cage and you go with ‘concerning’?" She replies as she pulls herself up to standing. She takes in his armor, modified clone armor from the looks of it painted pale with a bright red stripe down his chest, his eyes slightly magnified by the goggles on his face, the rest hidden by the elongated helmet.

"According to the intel we were provided there weren't supposed to be life forms aboard." He seems irritated to see her.

"Good old Republic intel, still living up to its reputation."

The other clone approaches, he rips open the metal box in his hands and yanks out the core as if the casing was made of thick flimsy and nothing more, "I've got the thing, time to go!"

She watches, dumbstruck for a moment as her ticket out starts to head for the gaping maw that used to be a door, "Wait, you're taking the old database?" The two of them stop and turn, "It's not complete! It's missing pieces of the coordinates!" Firefek she didn't want to sound desperate but she was.

"Likely story-" The big one chuckles.

"I was trying to steal it too, I almost got all of it before my crew turned on me!"

"A mercenary or a pirate? No matter, I trust you even less now."

She had never wanted to punch anyone's face as hard as she wanted to punch his, "Check the core Goggles, I swear to you! It's missing pieces!" He hesitates and in that baited pause she knows she has him, "Please, just let me out and drop me off wherever you dock next. You can have my data chip. No harm, no foul, just get me out."

The one with the goggles glares at her, the yellow tinted transparisteel of his visor snapping downl before he turns to the bigger man. Klaxons ring all around as he scans the core with a handheld device, but it's taking up time they do not have.

The two clones share a look, silently deciding her fate.

The bigger one caves first, "Aww c'mon Tech, we can't leave her! You saw what's on this ship, she'll be a goner on some mining planet!"

"Under normal circumstances I might agree but she's caged for a purpose, and I'm disinclined to put any trust in her."

"How much damage can she do? She’s smaller than you are!" 

Tech, the one in the goggles, sighs before he turns back around to face her, "If we spring you, you play by our rules. You follow our orders, no complaints, no rebuttals and if you put one toe out of line-"

"Out the airlock, understood." She nods furiously, hands pressed against the panel as she watches Tech short out the electron wall holding her hostage, the panel shudders and then it spews sparks on to the ground as the red fades and she's finally able to step through. 

"Lets go shortie!" 

"Wait, let me just grab-" She scrambles to the other side of the wall, trying to pull at something from the top of a shelf. The bigger clone reaches over and tosses the crate to the floor. She throws open the top and snatches out a bantha leather bag and a helmet.

"Run!"

Tech doesn't have to tell her twice, the three of them bolt out of the door and into the corridor, the lights above flash in time with the klaxons. There is a low rumble that joins the hum of the hyperspace engine, as whatever security droids are on board begin to activate.

"Back to the ship, short stuff!" 

The three of them book it down the darkened halls, ducking behind walls and crates as the first cluster of security droids pass through.

She tosses her bag across her shoulder, slinging it against one side of her hip, clipping it into place with snaps sewn into her jacket. They watch three more droids pass them by before she speaks again, "My name's Nox, by the way." 

"Doesn't sound like a girl's name." The big one chuckles, so deep and rumbling it almost feels like a growl.

"Well it's the only name I've got. My parents named me a bit of a mouthful, Nox just works better."

"Clear." Tech calls out and they continue on their way heading to the service hangar where their ship hopefully was waiting for them.

"How'd you end up out here?" The big one asks, with every flash of light above them she can see more of the large scary face painted roughly on his helmet, lines thrown on haphazardly only to be scraped away by carbon scoring.

She is about to answer when she is shoved back into a corner by Tech. He slaps a hand over her mouth before she can yelp, the leather slightly singed, it smells of electricity and grease.

“Wait.”

"I'm getting tired of all this sneaking around, I say we blow our way outta here!" The big one growls.

"We’re almost there Wrecker, it would be pointless to try now."

She shoves Tech's Hand away, "Blow your way out of here, are you insane? With the amount of baby on board you'd blow us into the next dimension!"

There are a few beats of silence before both helmets turn towards her.

"Baby?" Wrecker repeats but is shushed by Tech.

"You don't mean baradium-"

"Bisulfate? I absolutely do! There were containers of the stuff in the holding bay."

"This Imperial ship is headed somewhere to mine thorilide?" He repeats, tone stressed over every syllable in the word ‘Imperial’.

"That or some unlucky planet is about to be wiped from existence."

"The location of the Republic thorilide mines have been kept under the utmost security for ages, not even the Jedi Council was ever advised of its location."

"Can’t say I blame them, I barely trust them with those glowy sticks of death." She murmurs, making lightsaber sounds with her mouth as Wrecker snickers.

"Stop that. Do you know where this ship was heading? Do you have a copy of the manifest?"

"What, your amazing Republic recce didn't get you that information shiny?" He glares back at her, brows pinching together behind the dark frames of his goggles, "Maker! Did those cloners take your sense of humor? Yes, I know where this ship is going."

"Bet Cid’s contact would pay more for that bit of info." Wrecker’s grin can be heard even through the plastoid of his helmet.

Tech meanwhile has typed something to a com on his wrist, "Hunter, there's been a complication."

"What kind of complication?"

"There is more on board this ship than just the republic database-"

"What do you mean?"

"This ship is a mining vessel, out to mine thorilide."

Tech’s wrist comm goes silent, just quiet static while the voice on the other line thinks, "Ordinance?"

Both clones look at her, she nods emphatically, "Ordinance, med supplies, if there was coaxium on board I wouldn't be surprised, this place is the motherlode."

"Quite a bit of supplies on board, it would seem."

The comm goes quiet again for a few moments, "We don't have time for this, it's only a matter of time before they realize that your cruiser is stolen. Grab what you went in for and leave."

Tech shakes his head, it's so tiny and quick that if she wasn't looking at him in that moment she would have missed it, "Where is it being kept?" 

"Up, five or so floors unless I've miscounted."

"Tech, Wrecker, Get out of there, now!" The voice on the other end grows more and more irritable as they stand around in silence.

"We'll be out as soon as possible." Tech replies curtly as he cuts the comm. He makes it sound so easy like they were stopping by the nearest market to pick up fruit, instead of about to hijack high quality explosives from Imperial custody, "Lead the way."

"What? Just like that?"

"Are there, or are there not these items on board?"

"Yes." 

"You swear?" Wrecker leans in close, hovering over her.

"Yeah."

Tech nods, "Vital signs are stable, no signs of heightened stress-"

"What if I'm just a really good liar?"

"You can try all you want my dear, but the data doesn't lie."

"Does he do this to you too? I'm finding it a bit creepy-" She asks Wrecker as her eyebrow raises.

"You get used to it."

"Weird, so weird…" she mutters to herself as she turns and peeks around the corner. She looks around for anything that is familiar, when she sees a maintenance lift at the very end of the hall to the right. She motions them forward, and silently they sneak their way closer to the lift. She turns her attention to her side as she digs in her bag, her fingers grasp at the odd collection of junk in her pockets until her hand finally wraps around the cool metal of her code cylinder and she can finally stop holding her breath.

Tech's hand on her shoulder pulls her back to the task on hand as he drags her back a few steps. The catwalk above them from here to the lift is no more than a shoddy looking set of grates that creak as a group of security droids march along their patrol, oblivious to the three of them below. 

“The maintenance lift?" Tech sniffs as they come to a stop at its doors. He raises hand to push his goggles back into place, "Perhaps you have failed to notice but none of us are maintenance droids, the moment you try to access that panel they will -”

“They’ll what?” She asks as she jams the cylinder into the port, the lift clicks open silently and she steps inside. 

“The alarms-”

“What alarms? According to this," she snaps her code cylinder from the panel and drops it back into her bag, lost again to the chaos of the random junk held within, "I'm a maintenance droid doing routine inspections. How stupid do you think I am?”

"Hey hey, this one's pretty smart huh Tech?!" Wrecker is thrilled.

"Pirate." She reminds, "You don't see many my age that aren't intelligent and I'll give you one guess as to why."

The doors silently click open and before they can step out a team of at least half a dozen well armed sentry droids roll past. 

They all leap from the inside of the lift and fall into a crouch behind a stack of supply crates. They wait for a few moments before Tech quickly peeks over, "They don't seem to have spotted us."

"Fuck, there weren't this many when we tried this the first time." She swears a few more times under her breath.

"We should do this my way." Wrecker offers.

"What's that mean, what does he mean?!" Nox looks nervously over to Tech, "He doesn't mean-?"

"Explosives and violence? He absolutely does," Tech sighs, “ and I'm afraid we are running low on options and even lower on time. Wrecker, what does your ordinance look like?"

“But you said I couldn't bring any?”

“Yes, and when was the last time you actually listened?”

Wrecker, the fun if not absolutely homicidal one, pulls out a couple of detonators, a roll of plastic tape, a half dozen hand grenades and three droid poppers.

“Great, nice to know you could have turned us into a small sun if I hadn't told you about the baby on board.”

"Everything save for the poppers is far too dangerous to use around those crates." Tech hisses, "Any more of those brilliant pirate ideas floating around in your head?"

She chews on her lip for a moment, wracking her brain for anything else that might be useful as she ignores Tech's sarcastic tone. Apart from the crates on this floor littered with treasure, there didn't seem to be anything of any use...except for the busted water filter. “How big of a distraction do you think it would take to get all those sentries away from the haul?”

“It would need to be something quite large or destructive enough to threaten the integrity of the ship.”

“The water filtration system on board is completely calcified, I don't think it was ever fixed since there are only droids on board. If you could flood that with enough pressure the entire pipe should burst-”

“And flood the entire floor, along with the engine room, that might just do it.” He’s on his data pad before the words are even out of his mouth, he scans the room all around and matches it with the wireframe schematics on his screen. He stalks his way backwards until he finds the panel he is looking for. He pops it open easily and then begins to slice into the mainframe of the ship, “On my count, take Wrecker to wherever the baby is, let him handle it. You get your hands on as much of the medical supplies as you can, the security onboard is a little tighter than I would have preferred so I will have to stay here and continue to flood the filter.”

“Oh, easy.”

“Think you can handle all that tiny?” Wrecker’s thundering chuckle threatens to give away their location even with the steady moan of the alarms overhead.

She grins, Wrecker is back to being the fun one, “Try and keep up.”

There is a sound of roaring water all around them as tech funnels every liquid on the ship into the filter, then a sound like an explosion a couple of feet below them rocks the ship like a lightning strike. 

The sound of the alarm overhead changes as every droid on the floor turns away and heads to a lowering platform, all instructed to assist with the burst pipe.

“That’s our cue!” 

She shoves Wrecker forward playfully before they both break into a sprint toward the storage rooms where their bounty is being held. She points to one of the rooms as they approach, "This one's your big boy!"

The door is sealed shut, but not for long. Wrecker doesn't slow, instead he hunches low, bringing his shoulders down and tucking his chin into the collar of his armor before he barrels straight through, punching a hole through the doors with enough force to make even her teeth rattle.

She dips into the storage room across the hall, thanking the stars that her haul wasn't locked away like his was. She rips open any crate within arms reach, tossing open the tops and letting them scatter around the room wherever they land. She snatches bacta patches and hypos by the handful and packs the crate as full as she can, slamming her entire body weight against it to get it to close. She drags it out into the hall, placing it by the door before she bolts into the room right beside the one Wrecker is standing in. 

Wrecker watches her disappear into the room, the four small crates of explosives tucked carefully under his arms, “Wait, where are you-”

His question is answered as another crate hits the floor beside him. She comes running out of the room, grabbing this second crate by the handle and yanking it along, “Perfect! Not a single explosion! Love that for me!”

Wrecker bends down to offer her a hand but she has already snatched up the first trunk and is flying down the hall with them. She's faster than Wrecker would have believed she would be capable of with the two crates almost her height. She almost trips over herself as she stops and with a swift kick, the second crate lands at Tech's feet, “Come on 20/20, cut her loose, let's go!”

“What’s in that- I specifically ordered you to only carry medical supplies.”

“Yeah well, it sounds like you are used to not being listened to so, ship. Now!”

Wrecker races past, hopping off of the side and down to the level below, the halls are empty as all hands are called to help with the floor that is flooding. 

Nox peeks over the side, she watches as Wrecker sets the small boxes of baby down beside him, "Toss your crate!" He calls up. She nods and yanks the crates handle, flipping it up and off of the edge with a nudge from Tech. 

She helps him in turn, as they gingerly haul the crate full of ordinance over the edge before tossing it below. 

Wrecker sets the crates to one side before turning back to catch Nox, but she's already climbing down. Her fingers dig into spots on the wall where she should not be able to have any grip. She finds her own way down and with a little hop, lands right beside Wrecker as Tech lands beside her. The clang of his boots echoes down the empty hallway. "We'll need to make our way through the flooded floor of the ship in order to get back to the hangar." Tech types away at his data pad again before picking up the side of his crate.

Nox follows close beside the two clones, tossing the crate up onto her back to avoid making any unnecessary scraping sounds as they get closer to the flooded area, the sound of pouring water gets louder and louder with every floor. The next floor they walk through has the water barely deep enough to wash over the toes of their boots, but it rises rapidly after that. By the time they are on the same floor as the hangar, the water has risen up to their knees and Nox has a harder time trying to distract her mind from where all of this stagnant water has been hiding this whole time.

“Holding out ok over there tiny?” Wrecker chuckles. 

She turns to answer, when everything becomes...not alright. Her next step slips out from under her and she goes flying forward, crashing face first into the dark disgusting water, the crate on her back keeping her under the surface as she struggles to pull herself back up to standing. 

A hand at the back of her collar pulls her back up into fresh air, slimy water pours from her mouth and nose as she gags. She doesn't need to clear the water from her eyes to know what the dark figures that are starting to line the hallway are. Tech and Wrecker are on either side of her, blasters raised as the sentry droids file in.   

“I'm hoping you can fight better than you can swim.” Tech calls over as Wrecker leaps over them both and charges straight into one of the sentries.  Tech keeps a few of the others at bay, clipping them with bright bolts from his twin deecees, but it's not enough. She rubs the slime from her face and charges right behind Wrecker, using her entire body to check a droid in her path, she grabs the blaster from its hands as it goes tumbling backwards and into the water. Techs shots ring out around her as he stays behind, watching over the crates behind him. Wrecker tears through any droids that get within reach, sparks flying on to the water before they sizzle and die. She concentrates her fire on any droids Tech misses until the hall is clear.

"There'll be a second platoon on their way, we better get a move on." Tech calls back to them, she tosses the almost empty blaster into the water beside her.

"Are you always just, you know?" She makes growling and ripping sounds at Wrecker.

He laughs, "Not often enough." 

She stifles her laughter behind her hand as she walks back to where Tech is to retrieve the case of medical supplies, for a brief moment the last couple of days are forgotten and even the slime on her skin is the last thing on her mind. For a brief moment she was back with her men, waiting for that score of a lifetime, but when she grabs the handle of the crate and looks back it’s the clone armor that reminds her she is in fact alone. The sudden quiet of sadness doesnt last long as the doors behind them open and a new series of drods begin their march towards them. 

“Incoming!”

-----

Tag list: @themarvelbunch @agentwhiskeysdarlin @pascalisthepunkest @ashotofspotchka

[talesofphantombandits]

Zero to Six ~ Hong Kong - Edited Version. Part 6.

Characters: Four X Zero (OC)

Summary: Zero was the first person to be ‘saved’ by One, she was his first honorary Ghost. Her knowledge in tech meant she got the role of ‘Hacker’ she recruited new team members, looked for missions and locations and made sure every security measure was looked at. You know normal hacker spy stuff. But her tough up bringing meant that if needs be she could fight, she was maybe even better than some people on the team knew. But due to One’s protectiveness over her she had to stay hidden, she was more of an actual ghost than the rest of the team was. This didn’t mean she couldn’t have her fun though, over the months of being with the full team she had formed quite a passionate love/ hate relationship with the handsome Four. Who knows what sparks would fly if they were ever to meet. Warnings: Slight swearing, some suggestive flirting in later chapters.

Tagg list: (I know this is a edit of my original story but if anyone wants to be tagged let me know.) @raylan-c​​, @angelic-demonss

The night consisted of looking through the research and planning the best way to go about getting the dictators brother out of the tower in Hong Kong as discreetly as possible.

That wasn't the most exciting part about that night though, at least for Zero. In all fairness she was trying to concentrate on the meeting, but it's hard when a certain blonde haired, green eyed beauty kept staring her down. He even had the nerve to smirk at her when he caught her staring back. Dam him. She hadn't even been in his presence for 24 hours, yet she couldn't decide if she wanted to beat the shit out of him or jump him, kissing him like her life depended on it.

Maybe both?

Five had kindly offered Zero the pull out bed in her converted shipping containment while One made arrangements to get her, her own little space like the others had, a permanent home of her own sounded very nice indeed.  Although Zero tossed and turned most of the night she couldn't say the next morning that she was at all that tired when she woke up, the excitement was coursing through her veins and the anticipation to actually get to do field work was overwhelming her. One knocked on the girls door and dropped off the little of Zero’s belongings that she still had, he must have been back to the hotel room and collected everything, she thanked him but he just nodded slightly. “Still pissed at me I see.” She turned to Five who was sitting at the small table having some light breakfast 

“He’ll get over it.” She gave me her best smile. “Don’t worry.” 

With her belongings now returned to her, she decided to go for a shower and get into some fresh clothes so she’d be comfortable for the flight. She stepped out of the shower, dried off then dressed in some black skinny jeans and threw on a long burgundy striped top. Finishing the look off with some long black boots that had laces all the way to the top and a dark green leather jacket. She slung the duffel with all her clothes in it over her shoulder and grabbed onto her laptop bag then headed out to meet Five on the tarmac.  She walked in the middle, the others chatting away behind her meanwhile One was up front, no doubt eager to get the planes engine started. 

Zero decided to sit in her own section, unlike the others she had some work to do and getting distracted wasn’t a option.  Two took the seat behind her, Three sat across from Two. While Four and Five where opposite Zero, Five sitting in the same row as her. Four just had to placed himself on the other row by the window, the perfect place to make side eye at her. Great! Now she had to deal with a 5 hour flight feeling him burn holes into my head and be the biggest distraction from her work.

"So.” His voice rang through the aeroplane that had just got very noisy due to One starting the engines. “How are you feeling this morning sweetheart?" His voice was like honey, it would something she could never ignore no matter how much she tried. His low tones sounded way better in person than over coms.

She smiled over at Four as best as she could, trying not to show how much the nickname effected her on the inside. "Fine.” She sighed. “More excited than nervous really. It's just great not to be stuck in a room 24/7.” She smiled taking the chance to now turn the tables and tease him. “How you feeling monkey boy?"

"Why do you have to call me that?” He leaned forward in his seat and rested his elbows on his knees staring intensely at her. “You could at least come up with something that sounds a bit more sexy, don’t you think?" He looked at her with a cute pout, something she thought he was trying to melt her with. 

“I think it’s sexy, monkey boy.” Three chimed in and everyone burst into laughter, but Four was glued to Zero.  She just scoffed. "I think you're the only person that thinks you're sexy, well apart from that blonde you picked up at the bar, and Thee of course." 

"Are you jealous, Zero? You know that was for mission purposes, besides I've seen the way you stare at me sweetheart." She just laughed, she’d lost count at the amount of times she’d scoffed at this boy.

She opened her laptop, fully intent on ignoring him the rest of the flight "Keep telling yourself that babe."

"You guys do know where all still here right?" One said awkwardly over the aeroplanes intercom. “Okay everyone strap in and shut up, we’re setting off now.” 

It was about an hour into the flight, everything had been considerately quiet since four at fallen asleep against the window, Zero would steal glances at him every once in a while. Seven announced that things would start to get bumpy, and Three started to get very uneasy. "You know I usually just look at the staff to see if I should be worried." She turned to see him clutching white knuckle to his seat.

"I think you mean the flight attendants, you can just look at me." Two said.

"Oh darling, no offence but you could be on fire and you'd have the same blank expression on your face." Zero turned to raise my eyebrows at Five, who looked back at her just as amused. and a look that said ‘something is definitely going on with these two.’ Zero nodded in agreement.

"You know what sucks guys, that if we were to crash." She looked over at Four this time to see if the commotion had woke him up, he opened one eye from his sleeping state to make a face at Five. "No one would ever care. Like we never existed." He said it loud enough for One to hear in the cockpit.

"You know I can hear you, if you're going to shit yourself there's a bathroom in the back.” Zero just giggled to herself and then got back to her work So this is what it was like to be truly around them, she liked it. It was always fun to hear their bickering over coms but this was even better, a warm feeling had started to invade her heart and a warm fuzzy feeling like home crept into her veins. It was nice to be around the right people again. They fought, they were sometimes asses but this was her true family and for once in her life she started to admire One for bringing such an amazing group of people together. She had decided in that moment that there was no where she’d rather be than here 35,000 feet up with the best bunch of idiots, and if she was to die on a mission she knew she had surrounded herself with the best adopted family she could have ever asked for.

When they finally landed, the colour is Three’s face gradually started to return, Zero took the opportunity while passing him in the aisle to pat him on the back, laughing as she exit. "Hey you little shit, don't make fun of me or I'll find out your fear." He just shouted after her retreating frame. They all dumped what little bags they had taken outside of the plane as One started the debrief one last time of the plan we were about to carry out. After about Twenty mins he decided to wrap it up. "Chowtime." One clasped his hands excitedly as the rest of the team cheered.

Zero decided that sitting at one of the higher tables would be more efficient for her to carry on her work, she’d almost finished on the plane but still had one more section to complete by tonight. She whipped out her note book, not feeling safe getting the laptop out in such an open and crowded space. But as soon as she’d put the paper on the table someone had ripped it out of her hands and in its place a bowl of noodles was set down.

"Hey!" She had began to protest looking up at the thief in question.

What she was not expecting was to be met with Four’s bright green eyes. Closing her note book, he placed it safely back in her laptop bag. "Do you ever stop working?" He sat down on the stool next to hers, and suddenly she was very self conscious. She tried to shake the feeling by directing her feelings to being annoyed he’d took her work, she sighed tilting her head at him. "It's been nonstop for three years of my life, I’m afraid at this point I don't know how to do anything else with my time."

"We could change that." He smirked.

She scoffed again, cracking open her chopsticks a little too aggressively but as to get the point across that she wasn’t in the mood for his flirting. "Excuse me, I'd like some alone time with my noodles."

"No come on.” He laughed, face turning more serious when he saw how fed up she was. “I’m sorry, I think we should start over."

"What?" She turned her head to him in confusion at how serious he’d become.

"We haven't had time to talk properly since you got here, seen as we've only really talked over the wire maybe we should have a fresh start." He held out his hand. "Hello, my names Four."

He at least managed to crack a small smile from her at this, she decided to humour him this once. Putting her chopsticks down, she took his hand and shook it. "Zero."

"What a beautiful name."

“Yeah,” She laughed. “Well, you should hear my real one.”

She’d completely forgotten about the electric pulse she had felt when they had brushed hands back in the hotel kitchen. But this time she was holding his hand and it felt like hot lava now, this fact meant she held onto it a little longer than she should have.  Suddenly letting go when the moment started getting awkward, she decided to focus on her noodles instead. 

"You know.” He started to talk again but she didn’t look up, taking another mouth full of noodles. “I was surprised that you didn't suddenly knock me on my ass when I came in." This made her laugh. "You've threatened me with it enough times."

"Well I could say the same for you.” He leaned in closer to her, his breath tickling the inside of her ear. “But there's plenty of time yet for that sweetheart.”  In a lower voice he continued. “I'll make you wait. Get you when you're least expecting it." He pulled back just to see her reaction, and was pleased with the blush on her cheeks.

She cleared her throat and decided to change the subject. "Are you nervous?" She asked not daring to look at him. "For the mission I mean."

"Why does everyone always ask me this." He huffed, leaning back on the stool.

"It's okay to be scared Four, fear is what keeps us alive." He didn't say anything, but when she finally looked up at him, he was looking at her with an emotion she just couldn't put her finger on.

"All you can ever do is your best." She smiled and finished up her noodles.

"I guess, hey! when did you get so smart?"

"Maybe about an hour ago?" They both just chuckled, finally the air around them settled.

"You guys finished? It's time to go." Seven said from behind them, putting his hand on Fours shoulder.

"Yeah, we're good." Zero smiled at Four as he passed her, her laptop bag.

As Zero started to walked out of the restaurant, Five caught her by her arm and linked them together, she then proceeded to hand Zero 50 dollars. "You were right, they did it in Vegas." She said defeated.

"Two and Three eh, maybe there hope for me after all." They both laughed as they crossed the road to catch up to the others who had already entered their hotel for the mission.

[litwitlady]

to make the desert bloom

The first time Michael pawns off a few feet of stolen copper wire he makes $68. He’s been totally swindled - the wire easily worth more than double that. But it’s enough to pay the remainder on his cell phone bill so he’s thrilled with the transaction.

A few months later Michael risks stealing a small spool of wire. He’s wised up about the wire’s worth, but still accepts a criminally low cash offer. But alongside the cash, he’s also negotiated a broken power drill. He has it fixed within the hour and that’s how his tool collection starts. 

Word gets around about the kid who practically gives away copper for nothing more than a few crumpled bills and some rusty old tools. Michael happily accepts broken wrenches, bent screwdrivers, and even a table saw with the cord cut off. He makes enough money to put gas in his truck and keep food on his table. And collects enough tools to supplement his income with various side-gigs.

By his twenty-first birthday, he’s even got $400 saved in his new bank account. His crime completely victimless, as far as he’s concerned. Old Man Sanders never once showing any interest in the piles of copper in the makeshift garage shed. What Sanders doesn’t miss can’t hurt him. And what Sanders doesn’t miss has saved Michael’s life on more than one occasion.

No one but his customers are aware of his scheme. A conman playing easily into the hands of lesser grifters. Until the day he overspends on one of Isobel’s birthday gifts.

She opens the newspaper wrapped box and immediately shoves the gift back into Michael’s chest. ‘You’re stealing now?’

He frowns down at the handwoven scarf. Realizes his mistake. And sighs. Because yes, he’s stealing now.

‘It’s not a big deal, Iz. Just some copper wire no one’s going to miss.’ He tries to give the scarf back to her, but she folds her arms across her chest and levels him with her deadliest glare.

‘Return the scarf, Michael. Give the money back to whoever you stole the wire from.’ Her face softens and she reaches out for his knee. ‘If you need money, I have more than I know what to do with. And we’re family.’

He kisses her cheek, shrugging off her offer. ‘I’ll be okay.’ 

She settles against him, interlocking their elbows and leaning her head on his shoulder. ‘You know I love you, right?’

‘I know. Me too.’ And it’s the truth. But he’ll never take her money.

That’s the last time he steals anything from Sanders for a long time. Until Alex Manes comes barrelling back into his life after his longest absence yet. 

They crash back together like always. Shacking up in his trailer for hours at a time, rediscovering each other’s bodies. And Michael allows himself to believe that they will finally make it happen this time. But then Isobel arrives with a bag of bagels and wakes him from his dream.

Once he’s able to shoo her away, he watches Alex practically fall out of the airstream in his haste to get away. Michael holds up the bag of bagels, but Alex shrugs him off and climbs into his Explorer. The engine whines - needing a new timing belt - as he flees from the junkyard.

Michael eats all six bagels and then steals the largest spool of copper he can find. It’s almost like he wants Alex to catch him. You’re wasting your life, Guerin on a constant loop inside his head.

And maybe he is. Wasting his life. On a boy he’ll never be good enough for.

That night at the drive-in he plays out the final act of their charade. Stupid alien movie and grease-soaked food, hands brushing accidentally as they both grab for a new beer with the anticipation of sex heavy between them.

A dance with Jesse Manes. 

A trade with Renly Thomas.

He makes the most he’s ever made that night. Almost twice what the copper is worth. But he ends the evening in red regardless.

Eventually, he confesses the whole scheme to Sanders. Promising to pay him back. Sanders turns down the offer, but Michael starts saving the money anyway. It’s what he imagines his mother would expect of him. 

He starts taking classes at Roswell Tech. He stops drinking. 

One night, a recently single Alex sits on the stool next to him at the Pony. Leans his elbow on the bartop and turns to Michael. ‘I need a favor.’

Michael drops his hat onto the bartop and snorts. Raises his glass of water to his lips but doesn’t drink. ‘A favor?’

Alex scratches at a divot in the chipped wood bar. Avoiding Michael’s gaze. ‘I need a few feet of copper wire.’

He’s convinced he’s heard him wrong. ‘What?’

‘Three feet. Three feet of copper wire. Heard you were the guy to talk to.’ His lips quirk up at the corner. And Michael suspects he’s being played.

‘Fuck off, Alex.’ There’s no bite in his words, just a sad sort of ruefulness. He slides off his seat and drops his hat back on his head. ‘You can afford to buy your own copper.’

He stalks out of the bar, too sober to stay and argue with an ex who will always be more than an ex. 

The sky is dark and near moonless. Broken glass splinters beneath his boots. A couple arguing loudly distracts him as he walks out to his truck parked near the highway. Unaware that he’s being followed.

When he finally looks up, he stops dead in his tracks. A large dark object sits in the bed of his truck. And it definitely wasn’t there when he’d last climbed out of the Chevy. 

He squints, trying to make out what the object could be without getting any closer. But it’s no use. A voice from behind startles him.

‘Won’t work without the wire.’ 

Alex.

Michael sighs and turns to him. ‘What won’t work?’

‘The sign I made.’ He motions to the back of Michael’s truck. ‘Electrical connections aren’t complete yet. Guess you’ll have to take it home and fix that.’ He hands Michael a brand new reel of copper wire. ‘Let me know how it goes.’

Michael gives him the dirtiest side-eye. But Alex only laughs and turns away. Michael ignores whatever the sign is and slides behind the steering wheel. Riding back to the junkyard in silence.

He sits inside his trailer for a long time. Doing his best to ignore what’s still in his truck. It only works for an hour before he’s back outside and threading the wire through the back of the oak sign. Completing all the electrical connections and yawning through several dramatic sighs.

Once the wiring is finished, he plugs the cord into his power pack and watches as a soft neon glow lights up the night. He stays behind the sign. Protecting himself from whatever it says.

At some point, Isobel arrives. Walks slowly towards him, purples and blues lighting up her face - brow deeply furrowed. ‘Um, Michael? Is there something you want to tell me?’ She motions to the sign and his fear increases tenfold.

He shakes his head, hops up onto the worktable behind him, and carelessly swings his legs back and forth. Trying for nonchalance. ‘Nope. Just fixing Alex’s sign.’

Her mouth falls agape and her eyes go wide. ‘Alex made this?’

Michael nods. 

‘How the fuck are you this calm?’ She’s frantically waving her arms in a decidedly un-Isobel like fashion.

‘Don’t care what it says.’ He’s nervous though. Slips off the table and grabs the leftover copper. It’s probably more than what he stole in the first place. Tosses it onto Sanders’ stack. Suddenly very suspicious about Alex’s intentions.

‘Michael. Come here, right now.’ Her arms are crossed. Death glare back in place. But then she dissolves into high-pitched giggles and he’s never felt a fear so great in all his life.

He bites the bullet and goes to stand beside her. The first thing he notices is how pretty the lights are - pastel neons with a haunting glow. Very reminiscent of the alien tech on his console. 

The words take a minute to form in his mind. He struggles with them. Blinks rapidly several times. Shakes his head and tries again. But each time he lands on the same phrase.

MARRY ME.

‘It’s a joke right? Gotta be.’ Michael swallows hard and stares at the words until they grow fuzzy, losing all meaning. ‘We’re not even dating, Iz.’

Isobel wraps her arm around him and hugs him close. ‘I think you’ve been dating since you were seventeen. Maybe not in the conventional sense - but dating all the same.’ She sighs at the romance of it all. ‘And now he wants more than that.’ She pinches his ribs. 

‘Ow! What was that for?’

‘I can already hear you trying to find some reason to reject him. I will not let you ruin this for me, Michael. Do you understand me? I have a wedding to plan.’ She pulls out her phone and starts flipping through her calendar. ‘Spring or fall?’

Michael rolls his eyes and turns at the sound of tires on gravel. Isobel squeals when she recognizes Alex’s Explorer. Michael’s heart starts to race.

Alex climbs out slowly. Eyeing the sign over Michael’s shoulder. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’ As if that’s all the explanation required. ‘Phone was too quiet.’

Isobel flies into Alex’s arms, nearly knocking him over. But his eyes never leave Michael’s.

‘Give him some space, Isobel.’ She pulls away and looks back and forth between the two of them. Smiling so wide it’s contagious. ‘I’ll call you in the morning.’ She kisses both of them on the cheek and leaves them to their fate.

She stays up all night preparing mood boards.

Back at the junkyard, Alex shoves his hands into his pockets. Feeling naked under Michael’s intense gaze. He waits anxiously for Michael to say something - to say anything.

‘I guess I just don’t understand. Where did this suddenly come from?’ Michael leans against an old junker, watching Alex fidget.

‘Honestly?’ He looks up at the stars and then back down to Michael. ‘I’ve been sort of miserable lately. And one day I looked at my reflection in the mirror and asked myself why.’ He shrugs his shoulders and laughs softly. ‘Got dressed and went to the hardware store.’ 

Michael studies the perfectly formed tube lights. ‘Quite the talent you got there. And completely new to me.’

Alex grins, his anxiety easing a bit. ‘I had help.’

‘And this isn’t a joke?’ 

‘Not a joke. Not remotely a joke.’ He takes several steps towards Michael. Stopping an arm’s length away. ‘I don’t mean tomorrow. Or next month. Hell, maybe not even next year. But one day. When we’re both ready. That’s what I want.’

Michael nods and pushes off the junker. Now only half an arm’s length away. He looks back at the sign. ‘I’m ready whenever you are.’ Drags his eyes slowly back to Alex.

They smile at each other, still able to blush after all these years. And regardless of who moves first, they both land in one another’s arms. Haloed by the sign’s luminescent proposal.