#a broken record

[voidcat]

— a broken record

characters: aventurine/you, the ipc, original planets & characters, xianzhou alliance (mostly mentioned)

notes: 3.5k of a beast! Hello, hi, as I’ve mentioned before our mc has a prewritten history and backstory which will be revealed as the story goes on, hence the shifts of perspective you’ll come to see as you read & as I write. Second part of this chapter is an example of this. The storyline begins linear but this will be distorted as the plot goes on. Hsr characters and ipc doesn’t have full of revealed role so I’m taking creative liberties and adding planets, systems and characters when I see benefiting the story. I hope I do the characters justice and you guys enjoy this as much as I do:) love yall bye<3

songs: Too Sweet, It Will Come Back, A Dramatic Irony

i. it will come back

The corporation has its eyes everywhere; but not all those eyes belong to them.

It is a well guessed and partially accurate fact, that their arms and limbs, eyes and noses spread far and wide, recording every instance big or crucial; watching intently to plan their next move.

The IPC spreads far and wide, beyond stars and planet systems many don't even know the existence of. But as there is a price to everything, their range comes with its cost.

His heels echoing on the stone pavements, Aventurine knows of the strategists and analysts the corporation has working under them. Just because he is yet to meet one in the flesh does not make them any less real, though that’s where the rumors seem to hint at. An urban legend at best, exceptional people all in their own field, always watching, observing, recording, collecting information.

The rumors start after this part, where their loyalties lie.

It is something not many care about frankly, everyone has their reasons to work for— or under the IPC, it’s not up for others to judge why someone would willingly work for them, harvesting data for them; nobody knows for certain whether these analysts travel from one location to another, or stay stationed at certain spots for long periods of time; do they like to watch planets burn and shackled, or are they prisoners of the corporation via the extension of someone dear, with hostages and deals one’s forced on; all these questions and more nobody dares to ask around.

As people stare at him, Aventurine walks towards his target, the classy looking pub across the street, the best and most prestigious in the area, known for its delicacies and safety, or so the people of this planet think.

His outfit is the same, the flashy peacock holds his head high, a smirk adorning his face, eyelids low, he is well aware of the attention he gathers, as intended., Ggo on, keep staring, a voice inside him says.

Like anyone else in his line of job, he didn't give much thought to those rumored, but now there is a spark, and his eyes intently roam the place as he enters, hat in one hand, he keeps close to his chest.

There are signs for those wandering eyes.

Or so the people whisper about the urban legends. No one sticks out exactly yet, those kinds would not end up a myth if they stuck out like a sore thumb.

It was pretty much the same with the history of IPC and how it gets the job done, their tactics and course of action always following a system, even with the risks taken, the gambles taken into account, there was always a formula, a pattern that follows– then he decided to take a look at some records and found out interferences happened.

The why of it remains a mystery as of now, the how does not take much; they hold the information, it is up to them how many cards they lie on the table, how much they keep to themselves and how they name their price. A little rebellion as much as they can afford maybe, is it their conscious or just selfish desire, or to feel that they hold the strings above all; he is yet to find out.

Eyes on his target, he makes his way to the secluded booth, greeted with enthusiasm laced with a little fear. Not many people of this planet know of the outworlders traveling beyond stars, only those who rose to their respective ranks are given access to such information after all.

The arrival of IPC is both something that sent them into frenzy; excitement of the ‘what-if’s, fear for the worst case scenarios. They don't need to know of the fates of those erased from the maps to get that survival instinct kicking in.

Eyes lazily gazing over the marshall and the gambler, you take a sip from your drink, allowing the ambiance of the place to take over.

A delightful tune to your eyes, no hungry gaze locked on you for once, a decent cocktail by your hand and a job almost done. The planet itself isn't too advanced but more or less up-to-date with the systems surrounding itself; or the ones in charge are, which is a great deal considering certain systems and planets’ situations. Better to have some sort of an idea than to jump in blind. The gambler’s interactions seem to near its end, still managing to captivate the small crowd around himself until the very last second, flashy smiles and dazzling gestures. From the air around him and the happy but reluctant face of the marshall, you can safely assume a deal has been struck between the planet and the IPC, one can only hope it won’t bring destruction and grief with it, or that all life will cease to exist by the time that comes; with the IPC, one can never know for sure, when it is resource-rich planets they intent to use and mine.

Sweet tunes of the piano and bass remain vibrating in the air, a cello and a small set to keep up the rhythm. The little gathering dispels yet not all of them leave, scattering around the place.

He arrives by your side sooner or later, still making sure to take his time and talking with few others he must’ve seen worthy of their word or to kill time somehow. By the time the gambler sits by your side, you let your finger dance over the rim of your glass, half of the whiskey already gone, faint notes of its scent lingering in the air.

Aventurine tilts his head to the side, beginning with a line not too daring but equally natural and tame; nobody wants to scare people away within a few words, and he has plenty of time before he is expected back in the headquarters of IPC.

instead of a reply, you grace him with a smile and your fingers wrapping around your glass.

Taking your smile as a sign to keep going, he takes the seat next to you, resting his forearm on the counter. Faking a gaze at his clothes, “It seems I must've overdone it.” he says halfheartedly, in question. The voice of a man who knows all too well what he was going for, a sheepish smile that feigns innocence, fully aware of the cheap acting it’s putting on. Warming the atmosphere, creating an air of comfort and ease, friendliness and truce.

“Cannot say for sure,” you hum, “up until now you’ve had everyone’s eyes on your person,” your fingers relax around the glass, “which is more or less how the usual crowd operates, you only happen to beat the others to the quota today.”

He listens as you speak, noting how you talk in sync with the music. As primitive as the planet might be, the access to data was plenty and right under his palms, yet such small details are lost, he wonders if the music lacks lyrics or if they play it here so, just to bring out the conversations happening.

“Well, lucky me, or how else could I find myself a spot near yours truly?” he exclaims, both of you aware how cheap and easy the compliment is.

“I doubt you would have any struggles.” you say as you bring the glass to your lips, taking a small sip of the ashy drink. As true as it is, he takes a step back, filling the space with a smile instead.

Do you find him so charming that you would allow him to draw near any other way or have you noticed how he stands out among the rest as well– your spot here at the bar does not have the best of view but anyone with a slight curiosity could notice it was a certain class he had a meeting with prior. Maybe it's the difference of status you mean, that his meeting alone would be intimidating. Yet it isn’t enough of a reason to justify this possibly, this particular establishment isn’t one anyone can waltz in, hence the reason it was chosen for today’s meeting.

Humming to the melody, you take another sip. “How do you find the establishment so far?” you inquire and at your question, he chuckles. “I see, I see, I should’ve held back a little, maybe leave the hat back at home, huh?”

Only at his words you seem to notice the hat by the counter, your fingers leaving the glass to play with its rim instead, feeling the fabric and the details adorning the garment.

“I wouldn’t know.” you say, closing your eyes, “But speaking for myself, I’m quite fond of the combination so far.”

Silence falls over for a while as the music continues.

“What brings a lovely person such as yourself, alone at the end of the workweek, to a place better enjoyed with someone else?”

Unnecessarily long, his brain jabs at him, but he doesn’t care, from your reactions, you seem to enjoy the rambling and the coyness.

“Exactly what you’ve said at the end.” is your reply. Nails hitting against the glass, you draw out a melodic series of clanks. You follow the rhythm well, he notes, with recognition and following at hand, it is no difficult feat to speak in sync, allow the music to swallow and put your words into spotlight.

“Perhaps the most prestigious place around here, and a little pretentious in the eyes of some– like a certain face I happen to be avoiding, but that’s where the charm of it lies, wouldn’t you agree?” you change the topic and bring it back to where he left, giving him two options, two different roads to take.

Is it the ex that is pretentious or does he find the location as such; he has a feeling the answer to this remains ‘both’.

“The ambiance manages to be intimidating and capture a warmth to it, too.” he says, “a troublesome ex perhaps?” Why pick when you can have it all, he is willing to take it and where it’ll go, until you put down the stop sign.

“And delightful melodies all around, truly a safe haven at times.” you continue his words. “Not really, just his own person, blue hair to match his soul. It often felt like, with his own goals set in mind, ambitions and beliefs, what other people thought to be pretentious was nothing more than a misconception frankly.” you sigh.

“And yet, too much to deal with at the end of the day, hm?” Aventurine asks.

With melancholy on your face, you only close your eyes and nod with a hum.

“You remind me of him.” your words catch him off guard, a lightning bolt down his spine, he finds himself straightening up in his seat.

At his sudden reaction you hold back the chuckle that's by your lips, “with all the contrast you hold to him, relax,” until you cannot, and giggle, “it seems I’ve gotten rusty, my apologies, I was trying to–” you ramble off, unable to finish your sentence.

Cute, he thinks, and another part of him finds it impressive how despite it all, even when words seem to escape your grasp, you still manage to speak in rhythm.

A new song begins playing, with a slight change of tune and color, making Aventurine raise his head without noticing.

“Have you ever thought as if some songs– music can resemble a person?” Your question pulls him out of his bubble. With your chin resting against your fists, you stare at him with big, shiny eyes. The ‘how so?’ rests on his tongue, “It can depend on the song, and the person, I’d assume.” he plays it safe. “How do the lyrics to this one go?”

You let out a hum in sync with the music again, you must’ve heard it plenty before, or just like it to a certain degree.

“I wouldn’t know.”

You say it matter-of-factly, like a kid stating they like ice cream.

The initial surprise wears off and he allows another smile to bloom on his face, unable to rid of his furrowing brows and the confusion still lacing his beating heart.

His eyes quickly go over the place and he cannot spot a single musician in sight, just an old looking gramophone by the bar, behind the counter, jolting by itself at times, as if giving out its final performance. He could swear he saw a small batch of musicians when he entered, they must’ve taken a break perhaps.

“Whoever’s behind it must be an excellent compos–” “honey, you make this so easy.” Your words glide off with the melody, yet something about it sticks out, poking at his ears, something in his guts tell it is distorted.

Yet you keep smiling at him, almost a dreamy, singsong state to your person.

“What is it that catches your attention to the music here?” He hears you speak, eyes looking for the musicians he swears were there several system hours ago.

Swinging slightly to the melody, he knows better than to not keep someone waiting.

“How it brings out the words spoken by whom you’re speaking.” He states, like a kid answering for a pop quiz they’ve been memorizing for all week long.

“And how it drowns out anything else from the outside.” You complete for him, “that's the main reason this place is often sought out by a certain class.”

He has noticed it too, of course, every planet primitive or advanced, always have their ticks and tricks to separate classes and to feel important in their little bubbles.

Eyes finding yours, Aventurine finds your expression to be distracting, you should know better than to smile like that, naive yet sharp, pure yet knowing, holding the secrets to some sort of concept he does not even know the existence of.

He weighs whether to speak next or wait, but it seems you won’t be making any moves until his begins.

“It must’ve been difficult to compose pieces with such a certain goal set in mind though, I’d be delighted to meet the geniu–“ “Oh, how I wish we too had lyrics to accompany our songs just like yours beyond stars.” Your exclamation cuts through the air like a dagger.

What you’ve said registers a bit later than he’d prefer but his face pales before his consciousness gets to work.

“Oh but you didn’t know, did you?” Your voice tone hasn’t shifted much since the moment he has met you, but he begins to find it grating, how you seem to enjoy toying with him, to the best of your abilities.

“Not many outworlders do, none at all, if we are being frank here.”

“And why is that?” Aventurine asks you, glasses pushed to the bridge of his nose, his demeanor a tad more intrigued.

“Now that…” you begin, leaning towards him slightly, “I truly don’t know.”

Hands clasped before you, you take your eyes off him as if this is just some casual date between citizens of the same village.

“But I know what your lot says, that this is a primitive planet at best, just happened to be lucky and advance in certain areas.”

This much information at your hands, you must be among the ranks of government officials. It does not come as a surprise to Aventurine that the Marshall would bring along more than just manpower to an important meeting, determining the destiny of countless lives.

“It is only fitting that the art here has evolved to the form it once had when life was anew and the people had nothing but fire, stones and one another, walls of the caves to draw on, piles of wood to set fire to.”

He takes notice how you avoid using the word ‘devolve’, you must’ve seen something in this turn of events that makes it different to what it used to be, possibly more than just the state of your species.

Not so long after this rundown that you take your leave, still humming the same song from before, Aventurine finds himself wondering what meaning have you attributed to it— and by extension, to him?

And by the time he is back on the ship, preparing his report, his mind begins to forget about you already.

It is unlikely that fate will cross his path through this planet again, reading its name in future reports will be the most at best. The songs however, take their places at the back of his mind, playing over and over when he has just lied down to take a moment,

An interesting detail, indeed, he thinks. But the question remains: was it left out deliberately, or truly only known by the natives of the planet, unable to be reached with no interaction nor contact? Sloppy work or is something bigger at play?

Ii. a dramatic irony / l’inverno

Luofu is ever changing and eternal, as it ever was, just as its citizens are.

Yet today is not one of those days, today, your countless days of watching, noting, and occasionally drinking tea, pays off; the anomaly is on the move, and so are abominations of abundance. Posing the picture perfect threat, as they are meant to be, you wait to see how fruitful this one will turn out to be. Planting seeds often results in disappointment, for most of them require constant care. It’s the matter of collecting those that can stand on their own that enrich one’s wealth.

The anomaly that was supposed to become an abomination themselves stand between the people and the abominations of the stage, one fist clenching, other readying the makeshift weapon, eyes going back and forth, telling those they once swore to protect to stand back.

It is too early to celebrate but you think a nice dinner in Aurum Alley to treat yourself after the day comes to an end would not hurt a soul. Whispering small words on what to do and not, ‘hey didn’t we keep dental records back in the day as well?’, silently entering in and typing in the name of that lost warrior to their system… such things shouldn’t necessarily earn you a pat on the back– it’s not your fault the people have grown slow and dull with the days of peace they are born into. A tea against the artificial sunset wouldn’t hurt a soul, and it certainly won’t hurt the financial resources of the IPC though.

Your job, though what it entails is often unclear, is no rocket science as the people of the blue planet once said. It’s where and how you plant the seeds of suspicion that matters, how you goad them all the while making them feel the ideas were theirs to begin with, just a little nudge toward the right direction, no big deal there.

Focusing back on the present, you go over the expressions people seem to carry. Despite the fear in their eyes, the people watch the ex knight with hope, chests rising high because they have faith they’ll leave this place alive.

Yet something still stinks.

You have left the ‘how’ of the ex knight managing to live out like a regular knight, stranger occurrences have begun to appear at a rapid rate nowadays, got everyone in a frenzy, even the IPC, which, in and of itself is a great deal of success. With the path of Akivili under the spotlight once more, the horizon seems a little wider for you; creating discordances within the flow of events now that their attention has been divided.

You return to the scene before you and notice how the fist does not only clench but seem to hold, then you recall how the time forsaken warrior jumped right into the abominations as they picked out the innocents lying on the ground– not a distraction but a set up.

Setting up the stage before the grand finale, a knight defying time and logic, you can see in their eyes and body how the rumored impulsive nature has evolved, shifted into a new path, bringing along with it a technique unique to its time and person.

You watch as the lights go out and the show starts. It lacks the elegance it was rumored to carry but you’d not be surprised, this is something borrowed, something learned, without their old master, there is no longer a correct way of applying it yet they still play it like a violin, pull the strings and trap the abominations in, one by one, three by three, they try to attack but the knight deflects faster than them.

Then taking a pause, steadying a step back, they look back and tell the people to evacuate the space. As you watch people hurriedly go all around, desperate to help in some way, one running off to alert the authorities, your eye catches a string not shining like the rest, positioned oddly.

In the shadows, nobody sees, and it the crowd, nobody notices you moving.

Crouching down, you pick it up and place how the rest seem to be angled.

Satisfied when you see the golden, light-like shine return to it; a glance at the knight and you see them move, enduring the hits and swinging out the makeshift bow, performing like a violinist and radiating trust with every step. Nowhere near their master yet but quite on the way and more than enough.

By the time the backup arrives, the young swordmaster of ice and soldiers behind him arrive, you take your leave, pulling up your hood, you bring a hand over to your face, letting it sit and feeling the change.

The Alliance seems to be doing well under the general and from the looks of it, it will continue to do so. The nearing presence of the IPC won’t hold as serious a threat as it may to other planets.

The representatives of the company don’t seem to notice your presence as you walk past them and toward the alley.

Among their ranks employees with duller and duller senses, one might even be hopeful as to think the downfall of the corporation will begin shortly.

[mydarlingdearestdead]

Okay, tumblr!

I have an announcement. Monumental, in a way, and yet only for myself.

Regardless, I wish to share.

I apologise if you, reader, have every encouraged my writing, though I don't suppose you have. So few, afterall. I apologise, in any case.

My writing. My characters. My thriving adoration.

It was entirely, I fear, poisoned.

I must apologise once more for I haven't the slightest idea which words will sum up this feeling.

This chasm in my chest. Fissions across my heart, in a way. I can feel it now, in real time.

I'm sorry, perhaps I sound like a broken record. I have set out to educate on my own hopeless identity. Selfish, I know.

Humans are a conglomerate of their total qualities. Good qualities and bad, light to balance the dark. Or, so we are taught to believe.

I find myself unsure of my own belief.

[arealtrashact]

'The cage is open. You can walk out anytime you want. Why are you still in there?'

[kingofattolia]

Honestly I cannot overstate how much seeing Hayden as TCW Anakin changed EVERYTHING. Matt Lanter's Anakin is a frat dude. He wears a backwards baseball hat and says vaguely offensive things without realizing, while being a fundamentally chill and outgoing guy at heart. Hayden's Anakin is... not that. His voice. His expressions. His physical presence. It's off somehow. It's just left of normal. It's completely unremarkable and yet deeply uncanny for reasons you can't quite describe. TCW Anakin was always a flatter, blander portrayal, but I don't think I realized until now what exactly was missing: the serial killer energy. The inarticulable conviction that SOMETHING unhinged is going on behind those eyes.

[molinaesque]

"What are you?" "Oh, I'm you, sweetie. You just... give it a little time."

[firewasabeast]

can you do a fic based on the idea that athena and tommy will team up to fly the plane to safety? idk if it doesn't really happen in the show, I'd love a fic version!

disclaimer: I know nothing about planes, nor do I pretend to. we're all just going to smile and nod as we read through this, just like we do when we watch 911. the idea for this fic comes from @mannafromtevan's theory, which is incredible and I hope is true! Also, while looking for the link to this theory, I saw where @bibuckkinard already wrote a fic based on this theory as well. I haven't read it yet, but everything they write is incredible and will definitely be better than this. Anyway, enjoy!

A small aircraft hit the plane. Co-pilot was ejected. The pilot enabled autopilot, but she's unconscious. There's no one to fly the plane!

That was the call that Athena had with air traffic control just after the incident. It had sent more than half of LA's emergency personnel to the nearest airport, the 217 taking lead on the operation.

Everyone was hovered around, listening as Tommy spoke to Athena and tried to get as much information as he could in what little amount of time they had.

“And you said a window was blown out?” Tommy asked.

“Yes. A window and then some.”

“Wide enough for a person to fit through?”

“The co-pilot did.”

Tommy was quiet for a moment. Long enough for Athena to come back over the radio. “Tommy? Are you still there?”

“I'm here, Athena. I'm thinking. Just hang on a sec.”

“Oh, sure,” she answered, the sarcasm in her tone was clear. “I've got nowhere else to be.”

Jameson, a pilot who'd been working with Tommy for nearly five years now, stared at him. He knew that face. “You have an idea.” It wasn't a question.

“Yeah, I do.”

“How stupid is it?”

“It has potential.”

“To work?”

Tommy shook his head. “To be the dumbest thing I've ever done.”

*****

“You cannot be serious right now!” Buck exclaimed as Tommy strapped on his gear. The rest of the crew was working on the helicopter behind him, getting it ready to go as quickly as possible. Hen, Chim, and Eddie were there too, standing back while Tommy and Buck spoke.

“It's the best plan we're gonna get. It's the only plan we're gonna get.”

“It's not even a plan! It's a death sentence.”

“Not if I succeed it's not.”

“Tommy-”

“We've done crazier things, Evan. Like flying through a hurricane.”

“Intermittent showers,” Buck corrected. “And I'd say repelling from a helicopter and into a torn apart jet to try and land the thing when half the controls aren't working is a little crazier than flying through bad weather!”

Tommy placed his hands on Buck's shoulders. “Breathe, Evan. The rescue mission was fully approved by all proper authorities.”

“You sure you didn't fake mouth static your way into approval?”

Tommy gave him a look. “There might've been a few omissions. I cannot confirm or deny that though.”

“Tommy.”

“Hey, what's our motto?” he said, looking past Buck and pointing to the rest of the 118.

“Who cares?!” They chanted.

“Me!” Buck exclaimed. “I care!” He followed behind Tommy as he headed for the chopper. “Tommy, please don't-”

Tommy turned on his heels, nearly running straight into Buck as he did so. “Evan,” he started, his voice calm and assured, “If you knew how to fly, you'd already be up there.”

“But-”

“Am I wrong?”

Buck pursed his lips, eying Tommy closely before replying. “No.”

“I've gotta go. I will do my best to make it back to you, Evan. I promise that.”

That was it for Buck. He didn't care who was around. He tugged Tommy by his gear, and pulled him in for a kiss. “Be safe.”

Tommy nodded, giving Buck's hand a squeeze before running to the helicopter. Buck took a deep breath, holding back his tears as he watched them take off.

*****

It took time, and a lot of precision, for Tommy to finally reach the opening of the plane. There were a few close calls along the way, but once Athena had ahold of his legs, he allowed himself to relax a little.

“Good to see you, Athena,” Tommy said with a smile once he had successfully made it inside the plane.

“I'm not sure if good is the correct word to be using right now,” Athena replied. “But I am glad you're here.”

“Happy to be here.” Tommy disconnected himself from all the wiring he was attached to, guiding it back out of the hole so the helicopter could return to base.

Athena moved some debris out of the way, making room for Tommy to sit in pilot's seat. There were lights flashing everywhere, some repetitive beeping from alarms, not to mention the giant hole that was allowing wind to whip through the cockpit.

“What do you think?” Athena asked as he pressed some buttons, his face scrunched up tight.

He flipped a switch on one of the control panels, which caused the entire thing to fall off the dash.

“Well, that's not helpful,” he said, tossing it aside. “So, got any plans this weekend?”

She glared over at him. “Wasn't really thinking that far ahead.”

“I was thinking about taking Evan for a helicopter tour around the city... May be in bad taste now though.”

Athena sat beside him, a light sheen of sweat across her forehead. “Tommy, give it to me straight here. How screwed are we?”

He shrugged, keeping his focus on the controls that were still connected to the plane. “You believe in God?”

“I do.”

“Mind praying for us both then?”

“That bad?”

Before Tommy could respond, his captain's voice was coming over the radio in his helmet. “Give me a rundown, Kinard. What's going on?”

Athena listened as Tommy went through a (very long) list of everything wrong with the plane. He went over controls that were damaged, and the very few that weren't. She heard something about autopilot still working well, and something else about a manual landing, but most of it made no sense to her.

“I'm gonna need you to repeat all of that,” Athena said once he was finished, “but in a way I'll actually understand.”

He glanced over at her briefly, the plane jumping with sudden turbulence. Athena grabbed onto the the broken panel in front of her and Tommy focused his eyes back on the controls. “We're running low on fuel. We're gonna have to try to land after the next turn, and we'll end up dropping pretty fast. Basically, I can land us manually, but I can't promise the breaks will work.”

“That seems like a pretty important part of landing,” she deadpanned.

“I'd definitely say it's a favorite of mine.”

Athena took a deep breath before asking her next question. “And if the breaks don't work? What happens then?”

“There's a very high chance this thing will blow up if we can't stop by the end of the runway.”

“Oh dear God.”

“There is good news though.”

“Hm.” She eyed him skeptically. “What's that?”

“We won't feel a thing.”

“Oh, well, that's a relief. Don't know what I was ever worried about in the first place,” she replied sarcastically. “How much time do we have before you land her?”

“About ten minutes. Intercom system is out, right?”

“Yes.”

“Can you go make sure everyone has their seatbelts fastened?”

Athena headed back to the passengers. Tommy took the moment alone to breathe deeply and steal himself for whatever was about to happen. Part of being a pilot required confidence and, even if he didn't have much of it at the moment, he knew how to play the part.

Fake it til you make it.

He'd done that a lot over the years. It worked in a professional sense, not so much in a personal one.

A couple minutes later, Athena returned. “All buckled in,” she informed him as she went to sit in the co-pilot's seat again.

“It's actually probably better if you sit in the jump seat behind me,” Tommy said.

“Why? So when we explode my arm doesn't knock you upside the head for getting me killed? Nah, I'm good here.”

Tommy smirked. Even after working with Athena on and off for over twenty years, he'd never spent much time with her. The few dinners he and Evan had with her and Bobby didn't give them much time to banter back and forth. He'd have to make sure and change that once they were on solid ground. “Suit yourself.”

“Can I borrow your helmet for a second?” she asked.

“Sure.” He handed it over and she put it on, clearing her throat.

“Can I speak to Hen Wilson from the 118, please?” she asked over the radio.

A few seconds later, Hen was on the line. “I'm here, Athena. You're on an open channel.”

“Hen, Bobby isn't at the airport, is he?”

“No. He's on his way, but he hasn't made it yet. You want me to put him on with you?”

“No, no!” Athena answered quickly. “No. What I need to say, I can say to you.”

Tommy focused on keeping the plane steady while Athena spoke. It felt wrong to listen in to something as personal as a possible goodbye.

He took the time to think about Evan. The short but wonderful time he'd had with him over the past few months. They'd been the best of his life.

He briefly wondered if he should tell Evan that before he attempted to land, but he decided against it. Evan wouldn't need those thoughts running through his head for the rest of his life if they didn't make it out of this.

“Hey,” Athena's voice brought him out of his thoughts. She nudged his shoulder with the helmet. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

Tommy paused before taking the helmet back. “Go for Kinard.”

“Kinard, this is Buckley of the 118.” Tommy smiled at the sound of Evan's voice, even though he could hear it breaking ever so slightly.

“I hear you, Buckley.”

“I just, um, I wanted you to, um. Tommy.” He cleared his throat. “You've got this, okay? We're all down here waiting. N- Not a single doubt.”

“Good to know. No doubts up here either.”

He ignored the raised eyebrow look from Athena.

“Good. Um, Tommy?”

“Yeah, Evan?”

“I love you.” The words escaped him quickly, but with a confidence that wasn't there before.

Tommy smiled, his heart fluttering. He didn't realize he hadn't spoken until Evan's voice came over the radio again.

“T- Tommy?”

Tommy shook his head, blinking to rid himself of the tears in his eyes. “Chschschsch,” he said, bringing back his renowned fake mouth static, thank you very much. Athena stared over at him in confusion. “Sorry, Buckley, you're cutting out on me. You'll have to repeat that last sentence when I'm on the ground, okay?”

“Yeah,” Evan answered, and Tommy was sure there was a faint smile in his voice. “Yeah, o- okay.”

*****

About a minute later, Tommy was in position and ready to land. He got in contact with everyone on the ground, letting them know where and when he'd be landing. They were all getting into position near the runway, ready to help no matter the outcome.

“You ready?” Tommy asked as Athena tightened her seatbelt.

“Let's land this bastard.”

“Coming in for a landing.”

The closer they got to the ground, the shakier things got. Tommy held tightly onto the controls, trying to ignore the burning in his eyes from all the wind coming in through the hole.

They dropped rapidly, just as he expected they would. Athena kept quiet, and Tommy wondered if she was praying.

A part of him hoped she was.

As the runway got closer and closer into view, Tommy could feel every muscle in his body tightening. “Brace yourself,” he said a few seconds before they hit the ground with a thud.

Screams could be heard coming from the passengers, many of them crying or calling out to whatever god they believed in.

“We're going too fast.” Athena watched as they flew past all the emergency vehicles waiting for them.

“We're okay,” Tommy replied. Fake it til you make it.

They started to slow down, but the end of the runway was drawing near and it was becoming clear they would not be able to stop in time.

“Tommy.”

“We're okay,” he repeated, although it sounded more like a demand.

Athena could see the details of the signs at the end of the runway. “Tommy!”

Suddenly, Tommy turned the plane to loop around to the next runway. As he did, the wing hit a sign that flung backwards, eliciting more yells from the passengers.

The plan, or lack thereof, seemed to work. The plane slowed until it came to a stop.

They were alive.

They were actually alive.

Before he even had time to let it fully sink in, Athena was next to him, wrapping him in an unexpected, but very needed, hug.

“You might be clinically insane,” she said, both of them laughing from all the adrenaline coursing through their bodies. “But I'm so damn glad you are.”

“Why don't we get everyone off this plane?” he asked. “Then go see our guys.”

“I like the sound of that.”

*****

Athena and Tommy made sure they were the last ones off the plane. Athena spotted Bobby first. He had apparently arrived just before the landing and saw the whole thing. Tommy watched them reunite as his eyes darted around looking for his own person.

“It's been decided that I have the coolest, most badass boyfriend in the entire world,” a voice said from behind him.

Tommy whipped around to Evan standing there, arms already open wide, a bright smile on his face. Tommy practically fell into him. They held onto one another so tight that Tommy could have sworn they were melding into one.

“I was so worried,” Buck breathed out, his face pressed into Tommy's neck.

“I thought you had no doubts?” Tommy's voice was muffled against Buck's turnouts. He made no effort to move.

“Like you believed that for a second.”

After holding onto each other a little longer, Tommy pulled back just enough to look Buck in the eyes. “If I remember correctly, you were in the middle of telling me something when my radio started to go out,” he said with a smirk on his face.

Buck brought his hands to Tommy's face, his thumbs stroking Tommy's cheeks. “I love you, Tommy,” he said, and that confidence was back in his voice. “I really, really love you.”

“I love you too, Evan.” He pulled Buck in for a kiss, deep and passionate and filled with all the love they'd been keeping to themselves for the last few months.

The sound of a throat clearing had them, reluctantly, separating from one another. Bobby and Athena were walking up behind them, smiles on both of their faces.

“Athena!” Buck exclaimed, immediately going to her for a hug. “Are you okay?”

“All good,” she answered, “thanks to your man.”

“Thank you, Tommy,” Bobby said, bypassing a handshake and going in for a hug. “You saved a lot of lives tonight.”

He took a deep breath. “All part of the job, right?”

“I think you went far above and beyond the job tonight,” Bobby replied. "Probably have another medal in your future."

Buck's proudly returned to Tommy's side, their arms wrapping around each other's waist.

“You've got a good one here, Buck,” Athena said, patting Tommy on the shoulder. “You should keep him.”

Buck smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “That's the plan.”

[sandflakedraws]

some contextless flickory & one hickory drawing that my partner said looked like he was posing for a perfume ad

[daily-prompts]

I want everyone’s best one liner writing advise!

Mine is that you have to know the ending of your story before you start it.

[voidcat]

1st img: Outfit/mask concept for 2nd arc, mc and aventurine dancing in the right corner

2nd img: another character for a future arc, mc in that arc and a kakavasha redraw as well as a grumpy ‘vasha

[general-yasur]

with Lloyd's old va saying he was ten back in season one makes me realize lloyd was actually older than me back in 2011 he still was when the lego ninjago movie dropped and now he is an adult like me It is very rare to have a character literally grow up with you. Now he is bumbling about, full of doubt as he tries to be a role model while still trying to make the people who raised him proud

He's in a similar spot to me in life right now and its weird but also comforting

[incorrectfatui]

Sandrone: So who else is hiding in the lab trying to listen to Dottore and Crucabena fighting?  Pierro: Me. I'm under the examination table.  Scaramouche: I'm ON the table. Dottore forgot about me.   Capitano: I'm in the closet.  Pierro: We accept you Capitano. <3  Capitano: No I'm literally in the closet.  Sandrone: Love is love. <3

[shirmirart]

You're my favorite RWRB artist, your arts are so breathtakingly pretty... thank you for drawing our boys with such love and care 🩷

you can't make me weep this early in the day (it's 6pm but shhh) here, a forehead kiss for you 🩷

[akidachi]

Heya Doc

[royalarchivist]

Pac: It's too much coins, you know? It's too much money! 10,000 coins, that's a lot of money!

Fit: No, for you? It's worth it. What's mine is yours, what's mine is yours, Pac.

Pac: Aww... No, I- [Stammers and laughs] You broke me, I don't even know what to say! Not even in Portuguese!

Fit: It's all good Pac, you know, 'cuz– we're a family, so we gotta stick together!

Pac: The best family ever, thank you so much. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Can we hug?

I still frequently think about how sweet it was that Fit gave Pac enough coins to help him unlock Create. It was something that meant a lot to both q!Pac and cc Pac, and it was really sweet to see. :')

[ Full Transcript ↓ ]

—

Fit: So, you're trying to unlock Create, right?

Pac: Uh-huh, yes. I have 5,700 coins and 15,000 missing.

Fit: So... I was talking with Ramon, and it turns out that– well, I've been trying to unlock Create so that Ramon can use it, but since you are technically– you count as his father... If you unlock Create, it means that Ramon will be able to use it as well. So what I'm gonna do Pac, I'm gonna give you all my coins so you can unlock Create really soon, so that way Ramon can have it.

Pac: WHAT? No– really? Are you serious, are you being serious?

Fit: Yeah! because I'm not planning to use Create, I was just going to unlock it for Ramon, so if you have it, then he gets to use it too. So everyone- everyone wins. Everyone's happy.

Pac: [Stammers] What- I- I- I don't have words to thank you. Thank you so much, Fit! But that's so much money, we can't spend it on these things now!

Fit: Well, ok– so I want to give you– I just want to have a few extra for emergency cookies. If I give you 10,000 coins, would that be ok?

Pac: I- really? I- I- [Stammers] I don't even know what- what to say, Fit!

Fit: Yeah, yeah! I mean, you know, I just– I just– you know, I think... it just works out for everyone.

Pac: It's too much coins, you know? It's too much money!

Fit: No, no...

Pac: 10,000 coins, that's a lot of money!

Fit: No, for you? It's worth it. What's mine is yours, what's mine is yours, Pac. What's mine is yours.

Pac: Aww... No, I- [Stammers and laughs] You broke me, I don't even know what to say! Not even in Portuguese!

Fit: Oh, well– it's all good Pac, it's all good, you know, 'cuz– we're a family, so we gotta stick together!

Pac: The best family ever, thank you so much. I couldn't have asked for a better one. Thank you so much Ramon for the [ ??? ]. How cool. Can we hug?

Fit: Of course, of course, of course! Bring it in, Ramon. Bring it in, bring it in. There we go.

Pac: Thank you so much Fit, thank you so much Ramon. I will repay you. I will try to be the best Create-user of all.

Fit: Oh, sweet. Yeah, I have complete faith in you, Pac. I know you can do it.

Pac: Thank– like, with great things comes great responsibility, right?

Fit: Oh yeah, mhmm!

Pac: I think uhm, from- from– I don't know who said that, but you know, I will try my best to use the Create as smart as I can so I can get some resources for you as well, Fit. And I'm gonna pay you back! If you- if you actually handed me like, 10,000 coins, oh my god that's so much money! [Laughs]

Fit: No, you don't have to pay me back, Pac. You don't have to pay me back.

Pac: R-re– Ok, are you sure about–? I insist, you know?

Fit: Oh, just having you around is payment enough, Pac! Just having you around is payment enough.

Pac: Oh, that's so sweet Fit, I'm speechless, you know. I'm speechless. Thank you so much! Like, oh my god–

[canonkiller]

art tip the best way to get people to care about your ocs is to talk about them like everyone already knows about them. bring the same energy to the table as you would when talking about blorbo from your shows. make aus of your own works. you don't have to be humble or shy about how much you love something just because you're the person who made it. indulge

[stormyoceans]

sorry i know i said i would shut up but then i saw this and now im even more mentally unwell if anyone needs me i'll be in my padded room for the foreseeable future