#don’t ask how much of my day job involves comms

[capseycartwright]

[sistertotheknowitall]

Masterpost

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you���re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

Part one

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 1 - Breeding

My first published piece for Call of Duty! Like a lot of others I got very much sucked in (c'mon...hot masked man? ya'll really think I'm that strong? I'm far too gay for that. /hj) to this series and hope you all enjoy the content I write for it! Enjoy!~

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Coming on this mission was nothing short of a mistake. Yet Price wasn’t one to let work build up and overwhelm him. Plus, this was a favor to Nik; he couldn’t just turn the Russian man down with all the times Nik had saved his ass. The unfortunate part of all this was you.

Your relationship with the Captain wasn’t exactly secret. A number of soldiers had caught you two by now. You two really did try to keep things under wraps! But after Gaz and Soap had caught you in his lap, lips passionately discovering the other’s, well…let’s just say the two sergeants weren’t the best at letting it remain a secret. Thankfully for the both of you, Laswell had workarounds, and the entire squad was sworn to secrecy until further notice. It was only recently, during a short shore leave that the conversation came up: kids. “I’m too old for that pup,” he’d chided, casually taking a drag off his cigar. You huffed a laugh quietly.

“Oh c’mon John,” you hummed against his bare chest. Your fingers played idly with the hair that covered his skin. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t want to see a little mix of both of us running around base? How happy they’d be with all their uncles and auntie Laswell?” You could see the cogs turning in his post-coitus brain. So many different scenarios played over and over in his brain. On the one hand, the two of you had probably the most dangerous jobs in the world. There was absolutely no way he would let you back out in to the field if he found out you were pregnant. 

But the more he thought about it; you all round with his child, the happy life that would await you two. The idea of him absolutely ravishing you with the sole purpose of knocking you up became more and more enticing. Which was exactly why this mission was nothing short of torture for him.

You were being used as bait, put lightly. And a variety of different people had their hands all over you, guiding you where you needed to be. Now normally, Price was by no means a jealous man. He was rather proud to call you his partner, and was more than happy to show you off and brag about you. But something about the way you were being drug around set some sort of fire in the good captain.

“Ghost, do you have a copy?” He asks over the comms.

“Send traffic,” comes the response of Ghost from the other end of the building, no doubt honing on potential targets through the sight of his sniper rifle.

“Go to the next channel, there’s been a change of plans,” Price tells him as calmly as possible. There are a view other questions from Soap, Gaz, and Laswell, but he leaves them all unanswered as he switches the channel on his radio. “I’m going in after them.” “Price…” Ghost starts to protest. He’d warned the Captain long ago that if Price were to involve himself with a partner, emotions would eventually get in the way. The masked man knew his Captain’s emotions and control over them far better than he’d ever let on. “We can’t afford to complicate things.”

“I won’t,” Price comments sharply, slipping down the embankment to get closer to the building. His aim was to slip in a window to a room where he knew there’d be no guards. He remembers the layout like the back of his hand; his photographic memory worked pretty well for someone reaching forty. 

Again, the Lieutenant sighs heavily over the comms. “Fuckin’ hell…” he grumbles, adjusting his position slightly. “Just don’t get yourselves caught in there old man. Last thing we need is losing two good soldiers in one night.”

The captain chuckles grimly before hoisting himself up onto a few barrels and switching his comm back to the original channel. Ghost can be heard explaining the plan to the team, but Price tunes them out. “C/S, move to that empty room we pointed out on the first floor as you can,” Ghost instructs.

“Copy,” comes your hushed response. Price nods, hauling himself up and into the open window. How their target didn’t think to guard this room was beyond him. Then again, with how much he was struggling to get in, it’s not like it was necessary. “Fuck my old boots,” the man grumbles as he hits the floor, joints protesting at the sudden drop.

“Gettin’ old on us there Cap?” comes your teasing tone. You just barely manage to silently shut the door behind you when your world is sent into a whirlwind, eyes now meeting the brick wall in the dark room. A gloved hand is covering your mouth as the other pins your hands above your head. 

“I’m sorry darlin’,” you hear Price say, right against your ear. “But there’s a thought that’s been plaguing me, and I can’t hold it in anymore, Nikolai be damned.” You try hard to wiggle and protest, but your captain has his boot between your feet, shuffling your legs apart.

You gasp a little as you feel the excitement rush straight between your thighs. “That’s my pup,” Price purrs, warm breath and beard tickling the shell of your ear. “Keep those wandering hands still for me.” Slowly, as if to test your obedience, the good captain lets go of your hands. You do as he orders as you feel him undo the suit pants you’d been put in for the night. 

A gloved hand dips beneath the waistband of your underwear, running over your wet slit. You try to contain your whimper, but your captain was no fool. He knew your body and all it’s sweet spots better than he knew his own. The rough fabric brushes over your nub and you gasp against his other hand. 

“That eager already are we?” The man teases, kissing along your neck. Your eyes close and your brow knits in frustration. Not that you were mad by what was unfolding, oh no. It was because that man’s amazing cock wasn’t in you right now.

Thankfully, you and Price often shared the same brain cell, and you could hear the telltale sound of him undoing his belt, shimmying his pants and briefs down enough to get his member free. Yours were next, the fabric easily slipping down your legs to pool around your ankles. 

Price was as slow as he felt he could be, rubbing the head of his cock over your quickly moistening slit and hole. “Gonna take me so well darling,” he coos, more kisses and nips against the sensitive area of your neck. 

When his member first breaches your entrance, your knees almost buckle. It had been so long since you’d had your captain inside you, you’d nearly forgotten what it felt like. If it weren’t for the glove in front of you, the diplomatic party would probably have heard your shuddered sigh of pleasure as Price fully sheaths himself inside you.

It doesn’t take long, between the time crunch and your warm, wet walls hugging his cock so perfectly, for the captain to start truly fucking you. He went from gently letting you adjust to trying to muffle the sound of your skin meeting so quick it made your world spin. “Fuckin’ hell,” he groans, sliding his hand down your side to grip your hip so hard you knew it would bruise and you’d have to hide your slight limp for the rest of the night.

“Can’t wait to see you,” he murmurs against your skin, stopping in his sentence to moan softly. “--so full with our child, love. Gonna be so perfect for me.” His words have you absolutely gushing, your wetness making the sex even louder. 

You’re not sure how long the two of you had been at this, but the voices growing closer to the room told both you and Price that there wasn’t much time left. “Price, wrap up your business,” Ghost hisses over the comms. The thrill and knowledge of what brought this on has you teetering on the precipice of orgasm.

“Go on pup,” Price growls softly. “Let’s make this the moment. That moment I breed you like you want.” As every good soldier would, you follow your captain’s order, biting down slightly on the fabric of the glove to keep your whimpers from reaching the hall. The good captain isn’t far behind you, quickly spilling his seed inside you. 

The two of you are trying to come down from your respective highs when you hear. “...Is someone in there?” shouted from beyond the door. In swift movements, Price pulls out of you and you’re pulling your pants and underwear up from the floor. Just as you’re finished fixing your hair and your captain slips around the corner does the door open, light flooding the dark room.

“...Y/N?” asks the intruder. You give a sheepish smile, only accented by the flush still on your face. Not like they had to know it was from the sneaky sex you’d just had with your superior who would probably blow this person’s brains out in the next few minutes.

“Sorry, I…got a bit shy. I needed a moment to adjust myself,” you explain. The person shoots you a knowing look before ushering you out of the room. Price waits with baited breath for them to leave and walk away before sighing. He needed to get out of here before the mission changed any further. 

“All finished?” Ghost asks, voice surprisingly calm for how much he detested the change in plan.

“On my way out,” Price advises, pulling a few boxes closer to help ease his escape.

“Good,” the lieutenant answers. “Oh and Price? Permission to speak freely?”

“Go ahead Ghost, send traffic,” the captain answers, just barely getting into the window before he hears the response.

“Turn your comms off next time you decide to fuck your partner on the job.”

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Sketch in partial colour of Redemption era Parker and Eliot sitting side by side in the courtyard of their New Orleans base, in similar relative positions to when they had a heart to heart at the end of the hurricane job. Parker and her background are in colour, and she’s looking sadly down, hunched forward slightly. Eliot is in greyscale and wearing prison clothes, looking sad and serious. End ID] -

Day 29: alt. Prison

AU for The Turkish Prisoner Job, where Eliot gets stuck in the prison, and also the first part of the three-parter of ficlets, with the others on days 8 (dissociation, part 3) and 15 (experimentation, part 2). I know it’s backwards but that’s the way the days worked out 😅

Ficlet below the cut.

-

“Do exactly what they say,” were the last words they heard from Eliot for days, and they hadn’t even been addressed to the team.  He had been speaking to Romero, just as he was about to get released on a day pass by their marks, and then he was gone.  Taken away by prison guards under orders that overruled the detectives.

The confusion and surprise didn’t last more than a few seconds.

Sophie stepped in, had Breanna mute Eliot’s comm for all but her, and talked their client through how to proceed, keeping him calm and collected as he had to keep going now without a hitter for back-up.

The job had taken another turn, requiring a change of plan, new considerations, and they needed all of them involved to pull it off successfully, which meant it was two days before they had a chance to get back to Eliot.  If had been any member of the team other than Eliot, Parker would have been worried.

But it was Eliot and a stint in prison out of contact with his crew was nothing to him.

Regardless, she felt something unpleasant and annoying and she didn’t understand it.

“Babe, you okay?” Hardison asked, his image large in the screens as their long distance call connected.

Breanna had emailed him as soon as they lost contact with Eliot, just in case there was something he could do with his amazing exosphere hacking access. But the prison ran a closed network, no access from the outside even from the exosphere.

“It just feels wrong.”

Hardison frowned, “Eliot being in jail?”

“I don’t know. Yes. Maybe…”

For over ten years Parker had barely gone a day without one or both of Hardison and Eliot either right there beside her or talking in her ear. Now Hardison was gone, only reachable through a complicated video link thing or emails that took too long and were too impersonal, and Eliot’s voice was no longer there either.

“Babe?”

Parker realised she had let her mind wander and looked back to the screen.

She couldn’t place what she was feeling.

She was angry. Angry at Eliot for not just breaking out, angry at Harry for running the job so Eliot ended up in prison, angry with Sophie for letting Harry run the job, and angry with herself because it wasn’t Harry’s fault or Sophie’s fault.

This happened.  They did a dangerous job, especially Eliot, and this sort of thing could happen, and no one was to blame.

And she was anxious.  Worried about Eliot, which was stupid because it was Eliot Spencer and he was always fine.

“Parker? Talk to me.”

She looked up.

Hardison looked worried, sad.

She smiled slightly, feeling that rising warmth that came whenever he looked at her with so much emotion. The reminder that she wasn’t alone.

“I don’t like not having him here,” she said quietly.  She wanted Hardison to understand.

“I know,” he replied, “I’m sorry I’m not there right now.”

She nodded, “Well, you’ve got satellite stuff to do.”

That earned her only a sad smile, and she looked down at the keyboard.

“Harry going into the prison tomorrow?” Hardison asked, “Playing the lawyer.”

“Yeah. We can’t do anything until we know more.”

“I’ll keep trying to dig up intel from my end too. Got an algorithm running right now to cross-reference each of his aliases and his real name against email communications between government agencies, prison networks, rich folk…anyone who might want to lock him up.”

“That’s a long list. We’ve made a lot of enemies.”

And Eliot had a lot more still from before Leverage.

“Yeah. It’s gonna take a while,” Hardison replied, “So, wanna watch something together tonight?  I can stream from any country in the world and share the screen.”

“Sharknado?”

Hardison sighed, “We got access to pretty much any film that exists on the internet, and you wanna watch Sharknado.  Again.”

She grinned, “We can watch Sharknado II after.”

Sighing again, but smiling properly this time, he got to work finding the films, and they began their movie night.

-

Harry’s visit to the prison had three purposes.  The first, to see if there was a quick route to getting Eliot released.  The second, if that failed, to find out what had happened and why Eliot had been detained.  The third, to get an earbud back to Eliot.

This required what was, essentially, a pointless and entirely fabricated lawyer-client conversation between Eliot and Harry, which Parker mostly ignored in favour of watching Breanna attempt to find a way into the prison security system now they were parked close to the building in the food truck.

The culmination of this conversation was that no, it was not going to be quick and easy to get Eliot released because he reportedly had committed severe infractions within the prison, as observed by the guards.  Eliot had been moved to solitary because of these supposed dangerous acts, which were false but backed up by multiple guards.  He hinted that he had some idea of why, but the conversation was recorded and monitored, with two guards in the room at the time, so he couldn’t say more.

But the third task was successful.

About half an hour after Harry returned, and while they were still outside the prison, Eliot’s comm came online.

“Welcome back,” Sophie said, seeing the feed on the laptop screen appear.

“Thanks,” Eliot whispered, suggesting he suspected someone may be listening, “Romero okay?”

“Okay and rolling in it,” Breanna replied proudly.

“Job’s wrapped up, everything sorted, so now we just need to get you out,” Parker added, “Any idea what got you locked in there?”

“Think so,” he replied, “Sorta.  Pretty sure I’ve been ID’d.”

That was no surprise.  It was among the theories they had discussed.

“Who by?” Harry asked, “It has to be someone high up for them to get you moved to solitary and multiple guards confirming a false story to keep you there.”

“Dunno, but I heard someone talkin’ outside my cell.  Think they were on the phone, an’ they told whoever they were talkin’ to that they had me - said my name, not the alias’s - locked down.  My guess is they’re gonna transfer me at some point.”

“Weakest part of any transit is when the goods are being loaded into the vehicle,” Parker repeated information she had heard from Eliot years before, “That’s where we rescue you.”

Breanna shifted her screen to bring up several views of roads, “Look, I didn’t manage to get into the prison cameras, but I could get into some CCTV on the roads leading to the prison.  A prisoner transport is gonna require an armoured car, right?  And it’s gotta go down one of those roads.”

“We’ll be ready for it too, now,” Sophie added, “You can tell us when the transfer is taking place.  We’ll get everything prepared to attack the car, and when you give us the signal, we’ll move.”

Considering the number of times they’d waylaid and broken into armoured vehicles in the past, setting up the plan for dealing with this one - and contingencies in case of an escort, alternative routes, timings being off, and so on - didn’t take more than a few hours.  And, with the plan established and it already nearing midnight, they all went to bed.

All except Parker.

She tried sitting at the bar and then the desk and then on the stage, and finally wandered out to the courtyard to sit on the picnic table there. It felt very empty to be sitting on that table without Eliot next to her. But then most places she was used to sitting tended to have their hitter there too.

She felt stupid. Ridiculous. Eliot had been away from them undercover or kidnapped or on some side-hustle job loads of times and she never felt this unhappy about it. Hardison had been away loads too, working on those hacker things only he could do, and she felt sad but not like this. Not this icky, distracting, fuzzy feeling in her brain like something was really really wrong.

She pulled her earbud from her pocket and put it in her ear.

“Hey, Eliot?  You asleep?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to listen to that podcast with all the facts. Wanna listen with me? We’re like six episodes behind.”

Eliot didn’t reply immediately. She heard a quiet background noise. His footsteps on a hard floor.

Then he spoke quietly, not answering the question.

“You doin’ alright, Parker?”

She tried to laugh properly but it didn’t work.  It didn’t sound like a laugh, even though she was meant to be good at grifting by now.

“I’m not the one sitting alone in a dark lonely cold prison cell.”

She could hear the smile in Eliot’s voice. The gentle, soft smile.

“I’ve been in a lot of prisons, Parker.  This one’s among the nicest,” he paused, and in it she could picture his expression perfectly. It was the kind, understanding, expression few people ever got to see.

The thought of it, so clear in her mind, finally made her understand what felt so wrong.

She was lonely.

She hadn’t been lonely in a very long time and now it hurt so much more than before.

“It’s just,” she began, looking down at her shoes on the bench, “First Hardison left. And now so have you.”

“Parker,” Eliot said softly, “I didn’t leave. I’m right here, an’ I’m always gonna be. Hardison might be a stupid number of miles away, but he’s right there with you too.”

“With us.”

“With us,” he accepted her correction without hesitating, “We’re not, either of us, ever gonna leave you. An’ I know right now it feels lonely, but you’re not alone. We’re here, Sophie’s there. Harry an’ Breanna are there. Hell, if you wanna call up Hurley I bet he’d answer any time of the day or night an’ probably make you talk to his damn cat.”

Parker laughed despite herself. She liked Hurley’s cat. Eliot didn’t, so the cat always sat on Eliot when they visited, purring contentedly while he growled at it to go annoy someone else, and trying to pretend there wasn’t a fond smile just on the verge of forming on his face.

Eliot left a long pause for his words to sink in, and for Parker to find the truth within them. When he spoke again it was in a more normal tone, saving her from falling too deep into emotions she couldn’t name.

“So,” Eliot said, “About that podcast. ‘Cus solitary’s pretty damn boring.”

Parker found herself smiling.

She already had it up on her phone, the first in their episode backlog ready to go.

“You hear it?”

The familiar theme tune started as she pressed play.

“I hear it,” Eliot replied, then added softly, just as the voices of the podcasters began, “Thanks, Park.”

She nodded although he couldn’t see, smiled, and settled in to spend the night happily with Eliot, even if there were miles and walls of concrete between them.

Parker went to sleep, still listening to that podcast with Eliot in her ear.

When she woke up, Eliot was gone.

His comms were off, and no amount of yelling into her earbud would get a response.

Harry went back into the prison, playing the part of his alias's lawyer again, but he was told that alias wasn't in the prison system. Never had been in the prison at all, according to the records. Hours of intense hacking from outside the walls and from the exosphere found that alias wiped entirely from the prison records, and Eliot's name was nowhere to be found either.

During the night, while his crew slept, Eliot had been made to disappear.

-

[monako-jinn-stories]

Captain Howzer X Fem! Reader FanFic

Rebels on the Run

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Chapter Two

Chapter One

Ryloth is less than ideal of a place to be stranded, but you don’t exactly have any way off the planet. Your starfighter was destroyed when the men of your battalion fired at you, and ever since you narrowly escaped with your life, you’ve been hiding in the wild of the planet. That’s not to say you haven’t gone to the cities every so often, but you wore layers of cover when you did. Not only do you stick out as a human, you don’t want to be recognized as a Jedi.

It’s been months of hiding, and there’s been no variation in your weeks. Each day starts the same; scouting the perimeter of wherever you’re currently hiding before settling back down to make your meager breakfast. Certain days involve different activities after breakfast.

Primeday is when you would clean up your area, making sure everything is washed and put away, or neatly placed out of the way. Centaxday is when you go to the nearest city for food. Taungsday, you head to the farthest city for other supplies, like toiletries. Zhellday you sneak over to your lookout near the imperial base, spending the day listening in on what you can and observing the work of the empire. Benduday is when you allow yourself to relax, as much as possible given your state of being a fugitive. 

There was one recent Zhellday where some very interesting events went down. First, what appeared to be a batch of rogue clones attacked the imperial refinery, and then a guard was sent to guard Lessu. Imperial forces were deployed from the Capitol building, but another squad had set up a trap at one of the Capitol’s exits, seemingly for the rogue batch of clones. After some happenings inside of the building, one lone clone exited and stated his defiance to the Empire. Then, he was arrested and escorted inside the Capitol building.

Once you’d been sure that nothing else interesting or important was going to happen, you’d decided to head back to your current hiding spot. As you had walked, you’d thought about the events you’d witnessed and how it might change things for you. If there were insurgencies within the Empire, then perhaps you could get to some people who would help you escape without asking too many questions. Not that you could ever trust a clone trooper, not after what happened with your own. 

You can still remember the feeling of panic as your starfighter was shot down, the voices of your beloved friends ordering your death. And then the sound of your commander ordering his brothers to take his life, afterwards.

“Commander Sans, General Jinn’s ship has been shot down. It crashed and exploded on impact. There is no way that she could have survived,” Captain Hex had said over the comms, not knowing that you had in fact survived and could still hear.

“Our job is done then,” Sans replied. “Except, I have one more order for you and Major Steele.”

“Yes, sir. What is it, sir?” Steele asked.

“I have done what I was ordered to do, but I do not wish to live in a world without y/n. I know she was a traitor, yet my heart continues to betray me. My love for her will never overcome any other feeling I feel towards her. I could never hate her, and because of that, I will only ever hate myself for continuing to love her after taking her life.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

“I need you and Captain Hex to kill me.” The words had left Sans so effortlessly, almost matter-of-factly, as if this should have been the most obvious request.

“Sir?” Hex said, stepping closer to him. “I will not kill you, Sans.”

“Hex,” Sans said, and you heard his feet shuffle as he turned to face him, “I am ordering you and Steele to kill me. Shoot me and take my life, for I cannot live in this galaxy without y/n.”

“But Sans-”

“No, Steele. There is no argument. If you will not kill me, then I will take my own life.”

A silence followed these words, and you could only assume Hex and Steele had exchanged glances, a silent conversation playing between the two.

“Alright, Commander,” Hex said, “but we’re coming with you.”

“Then I will be waiting to march on with you,” Sans said before a brief silence followed by two blasters firing, and then both of those blasters firing again. And then endless silence on the comms. 

You still feel guilt for not saying something, for not revealing that you had survived. But you couldn’t, because you would have been hunted down and killed. As much as you wanted more than anything to save their lives, you knew, in the end, it would have only delayed the inevitable. And you perhaps might have condemned Sans to killing you as you faced him, which you’d much rather him not have to bear the weight of. The only consolation is knowing that Sans, Hex, Steele, Aid, Tie, and Bomber are now all together again.

A week had passed, and you’d returned to the imperial base. It had been busier, and you could only assume it was because of the defiant clone and the rogue clones. You had heard whispers in the cities that General Cham Syndulla and his wife Eleni, along with their daughter, had been rescued and taken off planet by the rogue clones. A bitter feeling flooded through you as you’d heard the news. Of course you weren’t lucky enough to also be saved by them. It’s what you get for remaining hidden in the shadows.

As you had watched, your mind kept drifting back to think about the defiant clone and the few followers he had raised. You wondered what the likelihood of him still being on planet is, and the likelihood of you being able to help-

No, you’d told yourself before you could finish the thought, you are not going to risk your life for a clone that will just end up killing you or betraying you.

And yet, a few weeks later, you weren’t given much of a choice in the matter.

It’s earlier than normal when you wake up today, and your body is rigid with tension. Something feels off, it’s what had awoken you early, and you can’t tell whether it’s danger or just cautionary. You don’t give yourself much time to debate it. You crawl out of your make-shift bed, which is in reality just a slab of stone, and put your bounty hunter mask on before grabbing your blaster and heading close to the entrance of your hiding spot. You keep hidden while you listen to their steps, trying to sense their location through the force. They seem to be curious about whether or not this area could provide shelter. 

“Huh, I wonder how easy it would be to carve out a living space in this rock,” the person says, and his voice sends a chill down your spine. “No doubt that it would be hard to find me out here.” Your grip on your blaster tightens, sensing him continuing to look around, getting closer to you. “That’s weird,” he mutters, and you can tell from his force signature that he’s found your secret path, the one that leads directly to your entrance. His footsteps echo down the short, hollowed out corridor, and you let out a steadying breath before you make your move.

In an instant, your blaster muzzle is pressing into the side of the clone trooper’s head, and he’s frozen in place, his hands up in surrender. A silence fills the room, and you fight every instinct that tells you to shoot him now, taking away his chance to shoot you.

“You’ve wandered a long way from your little imperial base,” you say, “what led you all the way out here?”

“I’m wanted by the Empire. I’m trying to escape the planet and join the clones who are rebelling.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Look at me,” he says, beginning to move his hand to gesture at himself. You grab his wrist, fearing him possibly reaching for his blaster. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. Besides, I have no reason to hide anything. If you just look at me, you’ll see proof that the Empire was holding me in prison and was trying to torture information from me.”

“Anyone might have tortured you. For all I know, you’re trying to make your way back to the Empire.”

“How can I prove to you that I’m being honest?” You think for a second, trying to decide what could possibly reveal to you that he’s not lying. There is one way, but it’s risky, especially given that he is a clone, but you take the risk anyway.

“Say it again.”

“Say what again? That I’m being honest?”

“No, your claim about fleeing the Empire.” Your grip tightens slightly on him, and your fingers wrap around to feel his pulse. 

“I’m wanted by the Empire. I’m trying to escape the planet and join the clones who are rebelling.” You close your eyes as he speaks and sense his words. Unsurprisingly, he’s telling the truth. You knew his voice had been eerily similar to the defiant clone, and this is all but a direct confirmation of his identity.

“I believe you,” you reply after a minute. You let go of his hand and lower your blaster, motioning for him to sit on your make-shift chair while you sit across from him on your make-shift bed.

“If I may ask,” he says, “how did you know you could trust me just by holding my wrist?”

“When people lie, their heart rate typically spikes. I felt your pulse, and it remained steady.” It isn’t exactly false, but it’s not quite the method you had used. But you also aren’t going to outright admit that you’re a Jedi when he could still kill you.

“Ah, I see,” he says, his hand subconsciously rubbing his other wrist. “Now I guess it’s my turn to ask who you are.”

“None of your business,” you reply simply, and he looks at you silently for a second before nodding.

“I understand you might not trust me completely-”

“The only thing I trust about you,” you begin, cutting him off, “is what you told me about your condition with the Empire.”

“I guess that’s fair,” he replies. “But, I can promise you that I’m not a threat.”

“Not a threat to who?”

“You. Anyone. Well, anyone except the Empire.”

“You’re a clone trooper.”

“Yes.”

“You’re a threat to the Jedi. You’re a threat to citizens who do not want to align with the Empire, even if you’re not with them anymore. People will still see you and fear occupation.”

“The Jedi have all been wiped out,” he responds, “and it is not the clones that forced the occupation, it’s the imperials that order us around.”

“But they’re the sign of occupation, are they not?”

“I mean…I guess.”

“And how can you be certain all the Jedi have died? I’ve heard quite a few rumors about some surviving and in hiding.”

“Well, those are just rumors,” he counters.

“But if you knew there was a Jedi nearby, you’d kill them, right?”

“I-” he begins, but then his face scrunches in thought, almost as if he’s in pain. His hand goes up to his head, but then he shakes it, clearing his throat before looking back up. “Part of me believes that it is my duty to make sure all the Jedi are dead, but the other part of me believes that the Empire lied in order to take control.”

“How come you aren’t convinced of this like you’re convinced that the Empire is wrong?”

“Well…I don’t know,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s almost like…it’s natural for me to think the Jedi deserve to die.”

“But you fought alongside them for years, did you not?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And did they ever show signs of betrayal then?”

“No.”

“So what makes you believe that they might have betrayed the Republic?”

“I…don’t know. Like I said, it just feels natural.”

“But there’s no evidence to support this natural feeling?”

“No, there’s not.”

“Then perhaps there is no reason to believe they betrayed the Republic. Perhaps the Empire lied about it.”

“Is that what you believe?”

“Yes,” you say simply. “From the moment he became Supreme Chancellor, I have never trusted Palpatine. Everything he said was always too vague, too…interpretive. I believe that he’s always been up to no good, and never truly liked the Jedi.”

“I guess that does explain some things that he did and said,” the clone responds. “I’m willing to change my opinion on the Jedi if I’m shown that they did not betray the Republic.”

“I’m afraid there is no concrete way to prove this. There is no evidence that the Empire betrayed the Jedi. All you can really do is take the word of those who knew and were close to Jedi.”

“Did you know a Jedi?”

“Yes…I did,” you reply. “He was like a father to me. He cared for me in ways that no one else ever had. And he always had the best interests of others on his mind. Especially my best interests. He taught me how to be the person I am today, how to treat and care for others, while always looking out for myself as well.”

“He sounds very important to you.”

“He was. And he never would have betrayed the Republic. He loved the men under his command as a father loves their sons. And the other Jedi that he introduced me to had equal love for their men. They were all pure of heart and just wanted to help others.”

“I see. I’m sorry that you lost so many people, especially the one who was like a father to you. What was his name? I might have fought under his command.”

You hesitate, not knowing whether or not revealing his name could reveal your own identity, but you decide to take the chance, because you hadn’t spoken his name since his death, other than in screams of despair and nightmares. “His name was Codo Daawa.”

“Codo Daawa? General Daawa?” the words are almost sad, regretful even. “He was a very kind person. I did fight under his command a few times. I looked up to him and how he always looked out for us and protected us. I’m sorry, again, for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. A few minutes of silence pass between the two of you, both of you in your own minds. You are again thinking about the feeling that you’d had when Codo had died, how you instantly felt a difference in the force. You’d known without a doubt that he was next to you, but within the force, and he wanted more than anything to comfort you, though it was impossible. 

“My name is Howzer, by the way,” he says, breaking the silence. “Formerly Captain Howzer, in case General Daawa ever mentioned me.”

“No, he didn’t,” you reply, and he nods understandingly.

“And your name?”

You bite your lip under your mask, a new wave of panic taking over. Do you dare reveal your real name? What are the chances that he knows who you are? Even if he’s heard of you, would he immediately assume you’re the same person as General Jinn?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me,” he adds as you remain quiet, “I understand you still don’t trust me.”

“It’s better for both of our safety if you don’t know.”

“I see.”

“But,” you say, clenching your hands in your lap, “I won’t get anywhere in life if I never trust again.” He looks at you curiously, patiently waiting for you to continue with where you’re going. You let out a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You lift your head to gaze at him through your mask. And after closing your eyes and preparing for the worst, you open your mouth to speak.

“My name is y/n. Y/n Jinn.”

If you enjoyed this, comments, reblogs, and messages are greatly appreciated!

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please don't delete this stuff. Tumblr I'm begging leave my taglist alone. And the other stuff. Just let me post all of this. If you have to delete something, delete this nonsense

I'm literally just writing this so that you leave the important stuff alone. this is bait

delete this please please omg please tumblr leave the actual stuff I want alone

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Shhsjdjdhfjejdhdhdidjdbdhdjdjdbshidjsbdhsjdbdusidndbjdjdjebdjdkdbdbeodjdbiskdbdjsisjdbdbiskdbdhdkdnbdjdjwbeisndbeikwjwbwjwownwb

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I don't know how many lines to write to protect myself but PLEASE IM BEGGING

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[shaaaaaaar]

also, since i’m rambling on tumblr a little bit i’m gonna continue to talk about thoughts and shit.

it’s kinda surprising to me how little i care about my comm class suddenly. it’s a requirement so that doesn’t help, but i also didn’t know that when signing up and it doesn’t really influence my lack of care.

i’m also surprised because my professor is genuinely really nice. i have some grief with her (which i will get into) but she’s like, genuinely very nice. she’s caring, and she clearly likes what she’s teaching. she dedicates a lot of energy to her teaching and her students.

but despite that, there’s a lot that feels… meh to me about this class.

firstly, my peers give even less of a shit than i do. like, our class is not active at all. it’s partly due to the class being required so many people just don’t care and partly due to the class being at 9 am, but the vibe of the class is kinda unnerving for me in a way that’s hard to describe. even the professor often comments about how quiet we are.

i also feel really bad for my professor due to how distant my class is. she genuinely cares about us and the topic and isn’t getting that reception. i remember i had to ask if i could do my first speech at the last day availible because i wasn’t able to work on it earlier, i had an essay to finish that was more pressing. and she replied that she gets it, a lot of kids put her class at the end of their priorities (and added its probably bc comm is required). and i felt so bad in that moment, firstly because her class isn’t at the back of my priorities at all (i just hadn’t gotten started because my mental health crashed for two weeks and that put me behind on work; the essay i worked on instead was a week late when i got it in because of that crash) and secondly because like holy shit that’s so sad to hear, especially with how much care she gives to us and to her job.

and i know i’m part of the problem, since i have fallen more into the “doesn’t give a shit anymore” crowd. wouldn’t be fair to hide that. but also, i really do feel like she deserves better. it’s not fun for anyone involved when our class is completely dead. it also worsens my lack of active present-ness in class because i end up feeling awkward as the one guy speaking up a bunch, so i shy away a little bit.

secondly, i don’t like the material of our class in a… very strange way. see, my textbook is actually insanely inclusive. it’s mindful of and highlights how different cultures communicate, puts effort into not being extremely eurocentric, addresses race and being respectful of that, and addresses a lot of topics relating to inclusivity. hell, there was an entire section about trans people and on several occasions queer people have also come up to challenge heteronormative beliefs. aroace people are never addressed (which i was looking for in the romance chapter out of curiosity and because i am aroace myself) but i kind of expected that anyway because aro/ace invisibility what’s new.

but it’s baffling to me that, despite how otherwise inclusive the book is, neurodivergent people are never brought up. neurodivergency can often impact the ways people communicate (it does for me at the very least) and i think it should be important to at the very least note that neurodivergent people exist.

i’ve often felt very isolated in class because of my neurodivergency making a lot of what we talk about more difficult for me. nonverbal communication was a strange unit for me because everyone had a much better read on stuff like body language than i did. and it’s so odd to me that the book can be so inclusive while also being focused exclusively on neurotypical people.

lastly, i think my professor is doing… not the best job at teaching us. not because she’s a bad professor, because she’s not. the issue is she’s extremely light on us. in some cases it’s extremely helpful, for example we all need to pass two speeches to get credit for the course and she’s letting people redo speeches if we get below a certain grade (either if you fail it or get a c or below). but sometimes she is way too coddling.

we have to do an interpersonal theatre paper. it was first a film paper, but she made it a theatre paper bc students often don’t turn it in. making it a theatre paper would base the essay off of our school play, which we got free tickets to watch, and the professor said we could work together on it. which is fair, and i appreciate the consideration!

but by working on it, i mean doing a lot of it in class. fine, but sometimes its a little much. i’m talking about figuring out the headers within the paper, structuring the paper together, gathering topic ideas all together, like a lot of the work is being taken out. which is still fine i suppose, maybe i’m just an overachiever by being bothered.

except one of the things the professor did is literally write an introduction for us, give permission to literally copy and paste it, and said it can count as one of our two sources. the theatre show counts as a source too. that’s WAY too much coddling for me, hell no. at that point, might as well write the whole damn essay for us.

i talked about it with my dad on the way home from therapy this week and he brought up that the help being offered is still way too much but it’s good for kids that really are just there for the requirement; it’s a case of “you get what you give”. it’s an easy a, after all. and he’s right, but this is both a literal college class and also retracting from a lot of the skills being practiced in this essay. i’m biased in being frustrated, after all i’m a writer (i hope), but i still think it’s a little excessive how much easier the essay is being made to be.

essay tangent aside, the professor is often very light when it comes to stuff in class in general. i cherrypicked an extreme case, but there’s still a lot of smaller instances of this same coddling. and i get it. she genuinely wants the best for her students. she wants everyone to succeed, she wants to accomodate for everyone and she genuinely cares about us. that is invaluable in a professor. but you can still be flexible and work with students in a way that’ll help them succeed, but also not make class into a walk in the park. while i appreciate what she’s doing, i think she’s leaning too far into being lenient, to the point where it’s detrimental.

though in fairness, an easy professor like her is something many students want. i’m just not one of those people.

i’ve been noticing that, across the course of the semester, i’ve become less and less inclined to speak and be active in class. honestly, i’ve been getting shyer too, i don’t like participating. and every time i wonder to myself “huh, guess i’m just having a day.” only to go to my english class directly after and be extremely active and talkative and present.

and as someone whos default in classes is to be someone very present and active in class, it’s… not a good sign that i’m acting so differently in my comm class.

[redrobin-detective]

Ben 10 lore that exists in my heart regardless of canon

- Ben’s personality in his mid-late teens is a mix of his Alien Force and Omniverse self. On the surface, he’s very cheerful and kind even if he is a bit of arrogant showoff. He makes jokes and plays around and acts as if he isn’t bothered by the things in his life. Those who know him best understand a good portion of his outward confidence and cockiness is just a facade to cover up his insecurities and to project the ideal, effortless hero. While sometimes seen as immature, most beings know Ben 10 means business as he takes his unofficial job and people’s safety very seriously. He’s clever, adaptable, charismatic and empathetic which makes him a formidable opponent and a loyal friend. Doesn’t open up easily but if you get to him, he become so dearly attached. 

- Drinks smoothies so much for several reasons. Comfort food go brrr, reminds him of the good easy times with him Gwen and Kev. It’s also a light but generally nutritous food to give him energy for heroing. Anything too heavy and he’ll be puking (both from physical and emotional stress). Though he jokes about his mom’s health foods, his are a crazy concoction of add in proteins and vitamins/minerals bc he knows he’ll out and out collapse without it. (Still has on occasion bc boy still doesn’t eat right/enough)

- While Fame is exciting for him at first he soon begins to detest it. Not the fans, no, he can’t bring himself to hate the people who look up to him. But he hates the constant attention, that he can’t walk outside without being mobbed. the only place he feels safe is his hometown where most people are so used to him and his weirdness that they don’t react much anymore. Takes to wearing a cape and face shield when going out anywhere so he can actually get things done without being recognized and mobbed.

- Part of the reason Bellwood isn’t concerned with Ben is partially because ben’s been weird and alien for as long as they can remember but also many don’t realize how famous/powerful he is. Yeah that’s just Ben Tennyson over there, sometimes he turns into funny creatures- wait what do you MEAN he’s the savior of the universe?? He cried over a spilled smoothie the other day.

- Does mostly online schooling by the time he’s 15. At first he tries to do half day things to maintain something of a normal life but it quickly becomes overwhelming and dangerous him/the school. Finishes his GED early but the Plumbers and Azmuth make him take additional college level and alien courses to prepare him for his future role. Ben gripes but really does love learning all these things, especially on his terms (ADHD and stress + the public school system do not always go hand in hand). He’s a quick learner when he deems the information important and is made accessible to his learning needs.

- Ben definitely has ADHD speaking of which, it was nearly uncontrollable as a child bc his free-spirited parents didn’t believe in medicating. Ben convinced them he needed it and after some trial and error, found meds that worked. As he became more involved in heroics/growing up he had to change his medicine regimen (resulting in him being a bit more off the rails in OV) and needed antidepressants and therapy to manage it better. As an adult he has a whole litany of coping mechanisms (good and bad yes) and regularly checks in with his therapist and doctors to keep things under control. 

- Has a complicated relationship with his necrofriggian children. Considers himself their mother and worries after them. They too feel a connection to their parent despite this being unusual for their species. A few visit (some more than others) while they grow while others maintain distance. Ben never breathes a word of them to the media for fear of them being targeted. Still he keeps an eye on them and ensures all 14 mature to adulthood (another rarity for the species). Checks in every now and again with the ones who don’t want to see him and those that do. Two join the Plumbers and Ben is both proud and worried. His youngest becomes partners with Rook Ben.

- Just in general loves kids, they’re his favorite fans and while he’ll grumble at pushy adult fans he always smiles and kneels down for the little ones. Not so secretly wanted to have children of his own but knew it was a risk overall and used a lot of that energy with mentoring and teaching. Eventually had Kenny later in life (late 30s-40s) and was over the moon, becoming such a loving and doing parent or as much as he could be with his hectic schedule. 

- Omnitrix can’t come off, never has at any point since it first latched onto Ben’s arm. Azmuth tried and failed to get the device off, doesn’t let Ben know for many years as he feared the consequences. The watch loves and protects Ben even beyond it’s programming making him much more durable to damage and releasing energy charges when he’s threatened. Not even removing Ben’s arm would separate them. They’re stuck for life.

- Ben does have Anodite heritage but the Omnitrix actively suppresses it and uses the built up energy to power the transformations which is why ben is mostly unaffected by what should cause a massive energy drain on him. Theoretically if Ben learned to harness and safely use his Mana at an early age like Gwen he would have been fine but letting it build up without safe outlet meant activation would have killed him. Omnitrix Ben, however, went his whole life not knowing of his latent abilities and how the watch saved his life.

- Ben’s eyes get more green and glowy as time passes from the Omnitrix. At first they think its a trick of the light but by the time he’s an adult his eyes are pretty much glow in the dark. His veins light up too after long stretches of using the Omnitrix. Its vaguely unsettling to people who aren’t used to Ben.

- Max and the Earth Plumbers work so, so hard to keep teen Ben on Earth when half the universe is blowing up their comm lines asking for The Ben 10 to help with whatever problem of the day. Ben himself doesn’t quite understand when he’s younger the prestige and expectations on his shoulders. Max throws up a million and one roadblocks so Ben can live as normal a life as possible while he still can. Still, while doing that he Still overloads Ben with expectations and responsibilities on earth and beyond. He becomes a soldier again with Ben as their greatest weapon. He never forgave himself of losing sight of his grandson underneath the hero esp after Ben’s breakdown. 

- Rook partnership with Ben ends not long after Omniverse with his promotion to Magister. Ben tries to play it cool but the thought of another loved one/teammate leaving his tears him apart. Max revealing that Ben most likely wouldn’t get a new Plumber assigned partner since he’s almost an adult and won’t need it and Rook accidentally missing their last smoothie run due to a scheduling mishap causes Ben to snap and have the nervous breakdown that had been building for almost a decade. He completely loses it for a little while and needs to take an extended leave of absence from school and heroics that lasts about a year. Spends time recovering both on Earth and Galvan Prime, does some diplomatic training, learns about aliens, actually confronts the stress and loneliness of his life. He comes out the other side stronger but still fragile and exhausted.

- Ben’s above mentioned breakdown brings him closer to all his friends who didn’t quite realize the extent of Ben’s burden. Rook had been under the impression Ben didn’t like him all that much so the knowledge that his departure was the final straw for friend/hero’s collapse was shocking. Ben and Azmuth also become closer, the Galvan becoming fiercely protective of the boy seeing as his Earth family didn’t do well to keep him safe. It takes years for him to get over his anger at Max for putting so much on his grandchild. Ben makes more friends, in and out of the hero business, finally gets a therapist and gets some of his burdens eased a bit. It’s not a sure fire fix and Ben has several smaller breakdowns the rest of his life but its something.

- Azmuth was straight up suicidal before he met Ben for the first time. Ben gave him back hope for the universe and his ability to create items for peace not weapons. The boy infuriates him, frightens him, frustrates him but Azmuth cannot deny in his heart of hearts that he loves Ben dearly. He’s very upset at Ben’s breakdown and doesn’t know how to handle the worst of the initail outbursts. Azmuth talks Ben down from a suicide attempt. He reaches out to Ben that he Too felt overwhelmed by pressure, thought himself only good for war. Ben’s arrival in his life saved him and now he will do the same for Ben. It’s the first positive step forward in Ben’s recovery.

- For no other reason than I like it, Azmuth primarily refers to Ben as Benjamin (mostly to annoy the kid but he likes the way it sounds too) and Ben in softer, more serious moments. 

- Professor Paradox continues to flit in and out of Ben’s life. He says its because Ben is the most equipped to handle universal peril (true) but he’s also just very fond of the boy. Ben, existing in so many forms and having such importance also exists a beat outside of normal reality which Paradox identifies with. Ben is naturally attuned to time related problems because of this (instantly IDing Spanner as from the future before being told later deducing him to be his unborn son). Plus Ben named him, way back when. He’s just drawn to Ben.

- Adult Ben, while being seen as an impressively skilled fighter and champion, really has his strength as a universal diplomat of sorts. Based out of Earth, he helps mediate and defuse conflicts, advocate against tyranny and overall preserve peace and balance. He’s not perfect, he makes mistakes and sometimes is forced to become violent (and yes kill) but overall is regarded as a peacekeeper, something younger ben simply couldn’t understand. 

- Gwen gets her degree and primarily does work with advocacy and teaching about magic/alien culture. While she and Ben are still close, there’s a bit of a frustrated divide in that she isn’t helping him share the burden of the universe. Gwen never wanted to be a hero and has enough worth to not shackle herself to a job that’ll burn her out. Ben loves heroing but gives too much of himself away trying to fix everything. They get into screaming arguments that it wouldn’t be so bad out there if she just helped him but she refuses to budge and says he shouldn’t make himself do so much. They always make up and thy still are each other’s closest relationships.

- Ben marries Kai in a political move, Kai is Asexual and Ben Aromantic. They didn’t love each other but they got on well enough and Ben was really feeling the stress of carrying the hero burden so Kai also being involved made him feel like he wasn’t alone. Both were also so tired of the universe constantly asking about their love life and said ‘fuck it we’re married leave us alone’. Gwen was always mad about it feeling Ben deserved better but the two of them were happy with it. They had separate rooms, mostly separate lives but they became strong friends and supports with their strictly platonic marriage. They had Ken via Invitro in an incubator and were loving if extremely busy parents. 

- Also from the moment he appeared, Ben knew that Spanner was his future son, Kenny. He played ignorant and then was kind of deliberately teasing him in future encounters. He knew the rules of time and didn’t want to disrupt things further even if he was angry and worried as heck about why Ken felt the need to time travel. When future Ben catches up in the timeline, Kenny gets SUCH a lecture. 

- Ben isn’t quite immortal but he’s also not entirely human anymore either. The Omnitrix not only keeps him safe from most harm but it lightens the effect of aging. Ben 10 is active many, many years when most humans would have been forced to retire. He’s not sure how long the watch will keep him alive and it terrifies him. Gwen too is functionally immortal however she ages like a normal human, then when her natural death came, shed her skin and became a fulltime Anodite. So in the end, it was her and Ben together wondering which of them will die first. Gwen has trouble retaining her humanity as pure energy and swears she’ll let herself fizzle out when Ben goes. When that’ll be however...

[jxthics]

howd you get started with commissions? i’m starting college soon and need the extra income but i don’t know how to start building a “presence” online

hi! this is a really good question but it requires a very, very long answer. i will do my best to split it up into sections and break it down to the best of my ability, but i am not a very articulate person. so if anyone reads this and has any further (specific) questions please feel free to ask!! thank you!!

to answer the question directly: i got into commissions in a really stupid way and no one should get started with commissions the way i did. i'm not going to go into detail, but i was in a really bad situation and i had to pick up work so that i would stop doing different things for money. i was underprepared, and i made a lot of mistakes, some of which i'm still trying to unlearn to this day. i didn't have any better options, but damn.

that's why i'm going to split up some things i wish i knew at the start of taking commissions For You! i've been taking them steadily for a little over 5 years now, a little over a year and a half fulltime if my math is right, and it's been a long series of trial and error. hopefully some of these tips will help you avoid those same mistakes and prepare you for starting commissions!

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SOME HARD QUESTIONS: so commissions are a really great way to make money off of your art but it is a job. especially in the current hustle culture model and the way that art is undervalued, i feel like this gets really overlooked. it's not a side gig, it's a full job with a ton of demands, and a really, really taxing one at times. i've seen a lot of people - myself included - underestimate the amount of work that comms take and end up eating the cost later. a lot of the "scams" you see online are genuine people who are just insanely overwhelmed and unable to fulfill the demands of the job, and end up just taking money and ghosting people. you don't want to be that person, i don't want to be that person. so don't be that person.

but like pretty much any job it has requirements. especially because you're self-managing, it has a lot of very unique ones. i am not listing these to discourage anyone from taking commissions; this list is to make sure you are actually ready for this job. note that art skill is not on this list - anyone at any level of ability can take commissions. these are soft skills you need for this job, how good you draw is not one of them.

some questions for you, before you start commissions. these are for you to think about and answer to yourself honestly: - can i make myself available to people? i consistently reply to messages? will i avoid messages, or hide from people when overwhelmed? am i able to make my work schedule and turnaround time known to people (i.e. a visible queue), and stick to that? can i send messages regularly enough for progress check-ins, wips? if people ask me unexpected questions, will i be willing to answer them? can i respond to messages in a sober and clear-headed way that will make sense to other people? will i resent people for contacting me, especially when i'm overwhelmed? if i have delays or unexpected hiccups, will i be able to communicate those without shame? - can i maintain a professional relationship with clients? what about if they're pushy, or verbally abusive? what if someone develops a parasocial relationship with me and will pay me for friendship via commissions? (this happens a lot.) if someone breaks my rules, can i tell people "no" without being aggressive to them? am i able to enforce boundaries to be respected, or am i a bit of a doormat? can i keep up boundaries when money is involved? what if i really, really need that money?* *i will admit this gets.... really hard, especially if you need to pay bills, but it's easier after you've taken commissions for a while. sometimes you don't know the answer to this question until you're in this situation. - can i manage a reasonable workload? you are setting your own hours. can i organize, and be aware of how much work i have? can i keep a slow and steady pace without eating into my other responsibilities? do i have enough time to set aside for this amount of work? if i do commissions, can i still find enough time for college/work/sleep/chores? can i consistently set aside that amount of time without overworking myself or burning out? are commissions going to be a strain on my body (i.e. wrist issues)? can i pace myself while still getting commissions done within a reasonable timeframe? again, what if i really, really need the money? - is my art consistent? if i'm having art block, will i still be able to fulfill commissions? am i comfortable at my skill level to produce art that may be somewhat out of my creative comfort zone, or is the type of work i can do severely limited? (note that i mean things that may be challenging to draw, not things that make you actually uncomfortable. do not take a commission that makes you uncomfortable.) does my style change a lot, or will people generally know what they're getting from me? can i make my work around the same quality almost every time? will things like frustration with clients, overworking, stress, etc make my work worse?

think of this as a list of challenges that you need to be able to overcome - if you take a good, honest look at this list and realize you can't do one or more of these things, try to figure out ways around it! for example, i have pretty severe ADHD and i didn't start getting medicated for that ADHD until this month, which means i struggled with meeting deadlines without burning out. when i started taking commissions seriously, i had to learn how to manage my workload through a shit ton of scheduling and planners so that i don't do too much. i would not take commissions if you can't meet the requirements for these questions - you're going to run into glaring problems fulfilling commissions if you can't do the things on that list, because that is what doing commissions requires of you, every time.

if you can't do these things yet, but you still want to do commissions, that's ok! that just means that's not for you right now. i'd heavily encourage you to save this ask for when you know you're ready. all of the things above are things that can be worked around - like i said, i jumped into this unprepared. i have failed in some way or another at almost all of these, or seen people i'm close to who are also artists fail at these. these are obstacles that can be accommodated or worked around. come back to this later!

if you're good to do commissions though, let's move onto actually getting commissions.

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TRACTION: i'm using this as a catchall term for getting people to see your work, getting people who will buy commissions from you, advertising. these are different things! sometimes really good advertising doesn't hit your target audience, sometimes people with tons of social media traction who get tons of attention on their art do not get many buyers, sometimes people with very few followers get a lot of buyers. ideally you'd have all of these things going really well for you, but especially if you're starting out with no online presence, you probably do not have any of these things. i'll try to break them into the three different things and what works for me.

social media traction (getting people to see your work): i'm gonna be honest, this part does not matter. don't worry about algorithms, don't worry about posting times, do not pander to an audience. DON'T WORRY ABOUT NUMBERS. if you're putting out work that is only for the sake of getting seen and getting money, other people will be able to tell. the only thing i'd say that matters is posting finished work consistently and frequently - if people can see that you can complete a lot of work, people will be more likely to commission you. but like... i make enough off of commissions to pay my bills, and i post whateverthefuck whenever i want, which is usually "shirtless guys that i find hot because i'm gay." most of what i do right now is OC art that i straight up refuse to explain, and i post as soon as i finish stuff, which is pretty often in the middle of the night. i also don't have a lot of followers - as i post this i'm hovering right around the 2,000 mark on tumblr, around 1,900 on instagram, and 2,500 on twitter. most of my recent art doesn't break 200 notes, and i can count on two hands how many times i've broken 1,000 notes on a post this year despite posting near daily. like... i am not someone you'd probably look at and think "damn this guy has enough of a following to pay his bills with his art" and that is because it means So little. when it comes to social media attention, fall in love with your art and then make a lot of it. do things that you're passionate about. be extremely self-indulgent. you WILL find your niche of people so long as you are doing it consistently and authentically. trust me.

advertising: this comes down to the advertising posts themselves. you need the posts to be clear and legible - avoid handwritten things, find a good font that is clear and stick to it. i heavily recommend fonts that video games use for their text because it's made to be readable while usually adhering to a certain aesthetic. you can have the prettiest post in the world but if it's hard to IMMEDIATELY read, you're going to lose people's attention - think about how long you actually spend looking at posts if they don't immediately draw you in, especially with current social media. you are trying to be a very loud voice in a lot of other loud voices and you need to make sure yours makes sense. inversely, you want your posts to reflect the type of work you do in a way that is nice to look at - this isn't a resume! make it look good, clean it up, make it clear that you are an artist. trying to strike this balance is really hard and it took me a while to hit a point where i was happy with it. contact friends to look at it who will give you honest feedback, especially if you know any graphic designers. if you have a specific style you tend towards in your art (like gritty or gloomy or soft), having the colors and text kind of reflect that also helps in my opinion and looks more like you have your shit together. i make my commission posts generally reflect my carrd info so that it feels cohesive. don't overload too much information in your post - make an extended page with do's and don'ts and any other important information, and link back to that. this is just a blurb to get people to Look at it.

client traction (getting people who will buy commissions from you): so i'm putting this one as a different bubble from advertising and social media traction because even though both of those things HELP, you need some other stuff. like i said earlier, having a lot of attention doesn't mean you're getting comms, and having your advertisements take off doesn't mean you're getting comms either! in my experience at least, something like 1/4-1/3 of your commissions are going to be from people who come back and repeatedly commission you, and the other 3/4-2/3 are people who haven't commissioned you before. sometimes these people don't even follow you and just thought your art was cool! these come up a lot especially if you're doing stuff like flash sales. so with this in mind, client traction is partially showing that you are a reliable and consistent person through social media, and partially showing that you can do good work through doing the work for them! good commission work is usually ones where you have clear communication, you're flexible to the client's needs, maintain a professional relationship, and the work you give them is good! when it comes to reliability and consistency through social media, having easy to find commission information is going to help. try to keep your social media usernames the same across all of your platforms - that way when youre on something like insta or tiktok where advertising is discouraged, they can find your twt/tumblr/whatever and look into your commission information there! also, keep your prices posted. my prices are readily available on my extended commission information -- its the same image i post when i'm advertising commissions! -- so that when i put up advertisements, people already know what they're getting. this is important especially if you want people to buy higher priced commissions from you, as people aren't going to drop $100+ on your work on a whim. posting times when you're going to open commissions also helps a ton! basically just being easy to find and easy to anticipate. s'professional.

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PRICING

i swear i'm almost done but a lot of people underprice their work. not only is this awful for your health and time, but it's also going to make it harder for you to sell comms. even if you don't have a large following, if your work is too underpriced, people will not buy it from you. it's a concept known as paradoxical value or the paradox of value - when it comes to things that are luxury items (fancy food, arts, crafts), if it doesn't cost a certain amount, MOST* people won't buy it. think of it like $2 gas station sushi -- even if you do buy and eat it, you're probably not going to be surprised if it's not quality, and you're probably going to at least buy it from the grocery store for $12+ if you're looking for something quality.

*i say most because you will get clients because you're underpriced but a lot of them aren't going to be good ones. people who are attracted to work just for it being low are most often really pushy or difficult people. this is where you end up with bad clients who are hard to work with. i used to get treated like shit by people who commed me whenever i posted cheap commissions and ever since i raised my prices people have been treating me better. bad self worth attracts people who will take advantage of it.

so like.... you need to be pricing for reasonable wage. look up what retail jobs are paying hourly in your area (because the minimum wage is usually less, we're ignoring min wage) and use that as your basis. for every type of commission you take (flat bust, flat half, flat full.... etc etc etc), draw about three of that one type by varying complexity, minimum, and time them. take the average time of all of those three and multiply it by your minimum wage. that's your minimum price.

formula is:

(minimum wage) x ([ {commission type one} + {commission type 2} + {commission type 3} ]/3) = your minimum price

that minimum price might seem like a lot, but it is the amount you would make at an hourly retail job. if you price under this you are making less than in a standard job for something that is a specialized luxury field. that's bad.

adjust your prices every 6 months based on your ability, your experience, your demand! i had to bump my prices recently because i have to work slower due to an arm injury, which means my average time is way longer.

-

i tried to keep this as short as possible and ended up writing for almost two hours i'm so sorry.

if y'all have any specific questions related to this, want solutions for better ways to manage commission problems, or just want to know something about the commission side of things, don't hesitate to ask! i'll get back to it as soon as i've got a minute. i actually need to go back to doing comms right now lmao.

stay safe, take care of yourself!

[hardlystrictlystarwars]

You should’ve been happy

Masterlist || Tag list || Requests/Prompt sheet || Requests

Captain Rex x F!Reader w/their young daughter

Your daughter’s check up doesn’t go how you plan

A/N: Okay so I finally wrote something!! This takes place a little before order 66(like a couple of months before). Anyways I do have a little bit more to add if people are interest(I’ve just been super busy with 2 jobs and figuring out school stuff). Anyways, hope you like it!!!

Warnings: Angst towards the beginning and end(I think that’s it) but some good fluff too

GIF is not mine, credit goes to original creator.

Reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated!

“Rex,” You murmured with a shaky voice as you felt your taxi speeder come to a stop, “Rex I really need you to kriffin’ pick up right now,”

You had been trying to call him the entire ride back to your apartment but the comm in your hand just continued to ring. You were losing hope that he would ever pick up. You knew Rex was on an important campaign somewhere in the outer-rim with the rest of his legion but you would argue the news you had just received was much more important. 

“Mama?” You heard your daughter’s soft voice pipe up. You looked down at your feet where she clung onto the fabric of your skirt, looking up with her big brown eyes that were just like her daddy’s. It was obvious she was a dead ringer of him.

“Yes my dearie?” You asked, before picking her up in your arms and climbing out of your taxi.

“When will this heal?” She asked, lifting up the sleeve of her shirt to show you her little bright pink bacta patch.

“Probably in a couple of days,” You said and put on a smile for her. 

“I wanna keep it on to show daddy,” She cheered, “I wanna tell him I didn’t cry when I went to the doctors. Then maybe he’ll take me to get jorgan fruitcake,”

Your smile turned into a genuine one. Of course she wanted her daddy to take her to get a slice of their favorite dessert. And of course she wanted to show her dad the bacta patch she had gotten from a simple blood test. 

In fact, she had two growing lists of things she wanted to show him and things she wanted to do with him when he returned home. Things that included showing him the hai-ka flowers you had grown together while he was away, her paper mache bantha that she had made and the doll you had bought her for her last birthday. She also wanted to see the new History of the Hyperdrive exhibit at the Galactic museum and go see a show at the CoCo District Theatre with him. 

“I’m sure you daddy will be impressed,” You said looking at your comm with a message from Rex:

Don’t have time to talk right now - long story but it involves Fives bringing a tooka with rabies on board. I will be home tomorrow. I promise. Tell squirt I love her

You read that message and could only think about what the doctor had told you. You should’ve been happy. Anyone else in the galaxy would have been ecstatic to hear the news that you did. But all you could do was hold your daughter tighter. 

It was already dark outside by the time Rex walked through your apartment doors. His hands were full of his gear, but your daughter was determined to hug him before he took another step.

“Daddy!” She screamed before running into his arms. 

Once he heard her voice his gear was forgotten and dropped on the  floor. 

“Hiya Squirt! I missed you so much! Have you been good to your mama?” He picked your daughter up and swung her around, 

“Of course daddy!” She giggled as he tossed her in the air a couple times. 

You found yourself looking at the two of them together, your daughter showing him her bacta patch like she had promised. You saw so much of the man you fell in love with in the daughter you had together, everything from her brown eyes to her sense of loyalty. Even if Rex’s name wasn’t on her birth certificate, no one in the galaxy would doubt he was her father. 

“Rex,” You sighed, relieved to see him standing in front of you, home safely.

“Hi, I missed you mesh’la,” He greeted you, taking a couple steps and closing the gap between the two of you with your daughter on his hip.

“I missed you too,” You replied, “We both did, right?” You looked at your daughter who nodded wildly.

“How was her doctor’s appointment yesterday?” He asked.

“It was good,” You answered, your shaky voice returning, “The doctor said everything about her is off the charts,”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing cyare,” He lifted his free hand to cup your cheek. Rex could sense something was off by the way you looked back at him. He wasn’t a blind man by any means. 

“We need to talk about something,” You said, still looking at your daughter.

He nodded before putting her down, “Hey Squirt, go pick out a holobook for us to read later, okay?”

“Yes daddy,” She smiled before skipping down to her room, oblivious to the glances from you and Rex.

You waited a few moments, making sure she was all the way down the hall and in her room before you grabbed his hand, “Her midi-chlorians count Rex,” You murmured, “It’s over ten thousands”

[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

hello ma'am id like to request a captain rex x f! or gn! reader,, maybe he's promised to take reader out on a date after he returns from a mission and when he does he asks you out and stuff bksbegksgjsn hope that provides inspiration

Ooooh I love this idea and it really did spark something in my brain so thanks for that!! :D. So happy to be writing again. See below for some happiness and fluff!

Date Night With The Captain

AO3 Link

Pairing: Rex x gn!Reader

Summary: You and Rex have been pining over each other for a while now, thankfully your good friends in the Elite Guard intervene to help speed things up.

Warnings: General Audience. Don't think there is any. One bit of swearing.

Word Count: 1.5k

It was another warm, smoggy day on Coruscant. The hatch door to the landing bay of the Republic Military HQ was open, allowing whatever small breeze the planet had to offer through. The top of your Republic issued jumpsuit was tied around your waist, letting the trousers hang loosely around your lower half, in attempt to keep yourself cool. You had the radio on as you worked beneath a red A-Wing, your mind on autopilot as you rewired, cut and welded through the repairs. Casually rolling back and forth on your dolly, humming along to the newest song the radio had to offer.

Given your work as a mechanic for the Republic since the start of the war, you’d gotten to know a lot of the clones from various battalions. You always had fun working on the ships for the Wolfpack as they were natural pilots who took a real appreciation in your work. In return, you made sure to always touch up the artwork of the two buckets and General Plo’s face for them on each ship, as you knew how much it meant to the men. Other battalions, while lovely, really did love to make your job difficult. Aka, the 501st. The clones weren’t too bad when it came to flying, it was more the involvement of General Skywalker which usually meant most of your ships didn’t even make it back, and the few that did were in a questionable state. Captain Rex always had the job of checking the ships back in to you due to Skywalker’s fear of facing your wrath for another ship mishap.

Captain Rex... you felt your mind drift to think of the clone you’d been getting close with over the past few years. He was easy company. A strong, friendly presence that was always welcome in your repair bay. He’d usually stick around for longer then he should, relaying their latest mission as he nursed a cup of caff while you worked away. You’d developed quite a crush on the Captain as time went on, how could you not? His buzz cut blonde hair, his caring nature, and that handsome face which despite being a clone, had something unique about it that made you smile every time he looked at you.

Yep, you were crushing bad on the Captain. But it wasn’t entirely one-sided. Just before he departed for his last mission, you think he was attempting to ask you out on a date before his comm went off and pulled him away and back to the war. You’d been running that interaction through your brain ever since he left, trying to guess how he would’ve liked to finish his sentence.

You let out a sigh at the thought. A person could dream right. You were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts when someone yanked your dolly from out under the ship, taking you with it. You were presented with a helmet-less, Commander Fox who’s curly hair was hanging just above his eyebrows. He didn’t say anything as he shoved a cup of caff in your direction.

You got yourself up from laying on your back and gratefully accepted the caffeine “Cheers, Fox”

“You need to take a break every so often” he stated while sipping at his own beverage.

“Rich coming from you” you winked at him, “Let me guess, Stone forced you to take a break by sending you to bring me a drink and make me take a break”

“Pretty much”

“Classic” you enjoyed the comfortable silence which fell between you both. Despite his overly stressed exterior, Fox was one of your closest friends. He and the other Elite Guard Commanders always made sure to check in and look after you and you did the same for them.

After a few minutes, he spoke again “Oh, Thorn needs your advice on something. He asked you to meet him in the mess hall”

“Dating drama again?” You questioned with a chuckle.

“Most likely” Fox replied with a roll of his eyes.

You bid Fox a farewell and set off to find Thorn. The military base very much stuck to a black and grey colour scheme so it was near impossible to distinguish one hallway from another if you didn’t know you way around by memory. Your jumpsuit made some swooshing noises as your legs skimmed past one another while you walked. Tools and bolts rattled in your pocket as you went. A contrast to the quiet you found in the hallways this evening.

Eventually you spotted Thorn standing outside the mess hall where he waved you inside and disappeared into the room.

You eventually caught up and walked in and the sight you were met with took your breath away. The lights in the hall were dimmed and there was a single table set up. A few candles lit up the centre and there were two portions of standard mess food waiting on either side in their signature metal trays. Standing next to the table was an awkward looking Captain Rex, his armour still dirty from battle. He had his helmet off, letting you see the flush of pink on his cheeks as he rubbed a hand down the back of his neck.

Thorn was practically bouncing with excitement as he pushed you forward into the room. “Well you kids have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t dooo!” He shouted as he ran out the door, closing it behind him.

You and Rex stood there for a moment, taking each other in. He looked quite vulnerable in that moment, waiting to see your reaction.

“Hey Captain, glad to see you’re back safe and sound” you said with a smile as you walked towards him. “What’s all this?”

“Well, I uh, I’ve been meaning to take you out for a while now, but things kept getting in the way. I know it’s not Coruscant’s finest dining experience-“

“It’s perfect” you cut him off, smile beaming on your face as you realised everything you’d been dreaming about these past months was true. “How’d you manage to pull this one off?”

“It was Thorn’s idea to be fair, he managed to get Fox on board to give us access to the mess hall after hours.” You chuckled at his words, of course they were meddling. Not that you minded of course, you knew exactly what you signed up for when it came to being friends with the Coruscant Elite Guard.

“You hungry?” Rex asked, much more relaxed now he had your approval on his surprise.

“Absolutely starving” you replied as you took your seat opposite the handsome Captain.

The pair of you chatted away as you ate the standard food that the base pumped out on the regular. Rex filled you in on his latest battles and 501st drama. He mentioned that it was only him from his battalion who had returned, and he was only back for a couple of days with the General to give a briefing to the Council before heading back out again. Which explained why Fives, Kix and Jesse hadn’t come storming into the repair bay to say hello to you.

You relayed what you and the guard had been up to, the pranks that Stone and Thorn had been playing on poor Fox, any fun stories about Palpatine that Fox had bitched about to you all.

Everything came so naturally with Rex; you spoke for what neither of your realised was hours. The candles burning slowly down until they were nearly running out of wax. You didn’t realise how much you’d missed his presence until right now.

Seeing an opportunity, you took his hand in yours on the table. Running your thumb over the hardened skin on his knuckles. “This has been probably the best evening I’ve had in a long time” you admitted, blushing.

“You and me both. But it’s not quite over yet” you cocked your head at the trooper in front of you as he hit something on his comm link and suddenly some slow jazz song started playing through the room’s speakers. Rex stood up and offered you a hand to join him. You nearly swooned at the entire thing. You’d never experienced romance like this. How did you get so lucky that he’d chosen you for all of this?

You took his outstretched hand as he led you to a slightly more open portion of the hall. You wrapped your arms around his neck, he was about to put his on your hips but paused and quickly asked for permission with a quiet “May I?” before he did so. It surely was not possible for a living being to be this adorable, handsome, perfect. Right?

The pair of you began to sway casually to the song that was playing. “So how did I do?” He asked with a small smirk on his lips.

“Honestly Captain, you couldn’t have done anything better. This is perfect” you smiled up at him. Your eyes met his fiery amber ones, filled with such warmth and content. You couldn’t wait any longer, you leaned up and placed your lips on his in a soft, first kiss. Both your movements were slow against one another, enjoying the languid pace set by the dancing and music, letting it guide your kiss.

You pulled away and met his eyes again. Yep you were falling for this man. Badly. But from the looks of it, he wasn’t too far behind you.

The pair of you danced the night away, the war forgotten for that one evening.

Back to Masterlist

[katnip225]

SBI alien au

Read a lot of alien SBI stories so here is my take. Only an outline and doubt I will ever fully write it out.

So in this au, Wilbur is the human and the rest of sbi (including Tubbo and Ranboo) are the aliens

The interspace committee does state that Earth is off limits but as you know, crime exists everywhere.

Wilbur has been in space for about a year before meeting SBI

Wilbur met Eret first, an alien who looks pretty close to a human except for their eyes. Eret helped Wilbur escape the ones who abducted Wilbur. Wilbur was locked up for about 2 months before Eret rescued him.

Eret and Wilbur stuck together for about a month before the two were forcibly separated. Eret did teach Wilbur a lot about space and left with him contacts to fool other aliens about his species. As long as a body scan was not done then no one will know.

Wilbur was able to get a ship and started to do some not legal jobs to survive. He was able to get a ship with a really advanced computer (at least to him. In reality it was a really old ship but to Wilbur it was really advanced) that was able to help give him knowledge that Eret was unable to in the short time they had

Wilbur was looking for a way to get to Earth but sneaking in would be tricky. There are guards watching Earth and Will does not want to risk getting caught.

Wilbur stayed under the radar for 7 months alone. The only way aliens know of him was by the nickname Siren.

One day, he was hired to do a mission that would pay him good and let him get some parts to update his ship. The catch being he has to work with SBI (another group that does a lot of not legal jobs) .

Wilbur agrees, figuring that it would be a one time thing and the reward was too big to pass. (Little did he know that getting involved with the SBI just means getting adopted)

So this would be where the fic would start (if I was writing a fic but really don’t have the energy to do anything but something like this)

It would start with the SBI getting noticed that they will be working with Siren. Tommy and Tubbo are really excited to meet this mysterious alien.

So SBI is given the comms number to contact Siren.

So the group talk about the mission and agree to land their ships next to each other.

SBI is surprised to see that Siren is a Fulzul (that is the name of Eret’s species). While they can do some cool things, from the little information they have of Siren the things they can do is nothing that a Fulzul can do.

Siren goes straight into what they think would be a good plan for this mission. Phil and Techno add in some suggestion from knowledge they know about the planet they are on and soon a plan is formed

The group makes some small talk and does some banter as they head to the mission site. Ranboo’s species can sense emotions so he can sense that Siren is really nervous and scared.

During the mission, SBI see Siren in action. They notice he does not use the abilities that Fulzul can do. Siren uses mostly stealth and persuasion. Siren sees how SBI work together and their abilities

Things go well until the very end. Something happens that causes the group splitting off in groups of twos and running off. Tommy and Tubbo, Techno and Ranboo, Phil and Siren

So everyone has to stay low for awhile and it is here that Phil gets to learn some more about Siren.

Phil starts to figure out that Siren really has no one to help him. During the mission there were some signs but Phil chalks that up to a person doing solo missions a lot. But as he sees more of how Siren acts and a few comments from Siren, Phil sees that Siren is alone. So Phil starts to ask some questions

Siren does answer most of the questions honestly. (Wilbur only lies when something can be used to reveal that he is human. It is easier to keep track of the lies that way)

So Phil learns that Siren lost his family at a young age and has been surviving by himself for most of his life. SIren did have a few friends but they are unable to communicate now (mostly because Wilbur’s phone got damaged plus no phone would work in space. )

Phil feels bad for Siren since no one should be alone. And since Phil is a serial adopter he decides that Siren will be his newest chick.

Meanwhile the others are placing bets on how long it will take Phil to adopt Siren. Ranboo is the one who wins

So Phil tries to get Siren to agree to stay with the SBI but Siren is like no. And Phil is please “Please” repeat cycle for the next 5 mins

Phil does relent since as much as he wants the new chick, he can’t force Siren

So everyone is able to return to the ships and they go their separate ways.

Well they try to go their separate ways since soon they are being chased by some space pirates

Cue spaceship fight

Fight ends when Siren notices that the space pirates have really done some damage to SBI’s ship. He has quickly grown attached to the group and does not want to see them hurt so Siren quickly gets the attention of the pirates and gets them to leave the SBI alone

The others get worried and as soon as the ship is stable they chase after Siren. How do they know where Siren is, Tubbo put a tracking device on Siren’s ship

They soon find Siren a few planets over from the one they did the missions. Siren’s ship is pretty badly damaged. Luckily he was able to hide from the space pirates.

When Siren sees SBI he is like “WTF are you doing here. I got their attention so you guys didn’t have to get hurt”

SBI is like “Like hell we wouldn’t make sure you are okay”

Siren is like “I am fine. Ship is a no go through. “

Phil is like “Well if you want, we know someone who can fix your ship but it is a way’s travel”

Siren agrees but states as soon as his ship is fixed then he will leave

SBI is like “Got it. So bets anyone on how long until Siren says he wants to stay with us”

SBI’s ship is much bigger than Siren’s ship and also has a place for ship’s to dock. So Siren’s ship is placed there.

Things are a little awkward at first since Siren is not used to others and mostly stays to himself.

Tommy is the one who gets Siren to leave his room.

Cue some nice fluffy moments with the group

Siren is now very conflicted since he wants to stay with them but is scared if they find out he is human.

They get to the ship repair person who is Nikki. (yes in this au she can both bake and repair a ship. Plus I need to have the syndicate)

So Siren’s ship is almost repaired when the space pirates show up again.

So the space pirates are led by Sally. Big fight happens which ends up with Siren getting seriously hurt and being knocked out. Soon Techno tackles Sally to the ground and gets her crew to stand down.

Once things calm down, the group finds out why the space pirates are attacking them. Turns out a few missions ago, Tommy and Tubbo from Sally. That itemed turned out to be one of the first devices her son (Fundy was adopted by Sally) made. They chased after Siren since they sensed the object on his ship. Turns out the tracking device was the device or at least a replica of it.

Phil scolds the boys for doing that. Tommy and Tubbo apologize and return the device.

Sally offers to help heal Siren since she does feel bad for hurting someone who had nothing to do with what happened.

So they put Siren in the medbay and find out he is human since they did a body scan.

So now they are panicking since they have no idea how to heal a human. Also, how did a human last this long without anyone knowing.

Nikki remembers that while fixing Siren’s ship there were many features that she had no idea what the purpose was. They might be related to Siren being human.

So they bring Siren into his ship and luckily it seems the ship’s computer can talk them through what to do.

Cut to Siren waking up in his ship confused as hell. Also with the thought ‘need to get my contacts out now and get some eye drops’

Unfortunately the others are there so he can’t really do that without revealing his secret

Well the group explains what happened and slowly Siren remembers what happened. And dread slowly grips him as he realizes that his secret is out.

Finally the group tells them that they know he is human. Siren quickly pulls out a laser gun and points it at them while quickly backing up. The others are shocked but they can easily tell he is doing this out of fear.

They try to explain that they are still friends and they won’t tell anyone but Siren is too much in a panic state to really listen. All he knows is that he could end up like he did when he was abducted.

Tommy asks the ship if it knows anything that can help Siren which it does.

So the group calms Siren down enough so he can listen to what they are saying.

Siren does have some doubt but figures they could have just done something while he was panicked so he relaxes a bit.

The others ask him what he needs. Siren asks for them to get his contact case on the sink in the bathroom and some eye drops. Siren then takes out the contacts and puts some eye drops in

Phil is like “So that is how you fooled everyone though still surprised you survived this long. How did you know about the Fulzul?”

Cue backstory time of Siren’s time with Eret

Siren does reveal that his real name is Wilbur.

He answers some questions about earth including what a siren is.

Techno gets really interested since he is a big mythology guy and wants to hear more about this greek mythology

Wilbur agrees to stay with SBI since they know his secret now. He does say he does want to return to earth since he has some friends that most likely think he is dead.

SBI agrees to help Wilbur out but do say they will figure out a way for him to talk SBI while on earth.

The group does keep in touch with Sally.

Do have more ideas but they really don’t have endings. They are more start of ideas so will leave things off here.

The others idea are SBI learning about humans, a story involving las nevadas, meeting Eret again, Sally and Wilbur getting together, and Wilbur giving a tour of Earth to SBI and any others that wanted to come

[championofsanghelios]

Watch Dogs Legion - "M"

This was written by me, remember. So expect the usual errors, typos and word bugs (bzz.) --- [11.11.2029] [THE EARLS FORTUNE] [2044 HOURS] --- "...that's not my point!" Jackson says as he pushes the door open, his waterproof dripping wet from the rain that was lashing down outside. "You need to stop being so reckless, and actually consider the risks to yourself...as well as others."

"There's no fun in being careful!" Wrench replies, following him in. He was absolutely soaked through, but didn't seem to care. "It takes away the unpredictability...which is what I love about those Ops. Just showing up with my Lady Smash and some home made explosives...it's great!"

"That's another thing I need to talk to you about." Jackson pulls off his waterproof, draping it over one of the radiators near the wall. "There's breaking things, then there's vaporizing them..."

Connie comes out of the back room, letting out a laugh when she sees them both. "Well Well, you two took your time getting back."

"Only because this one here decided an Albion Comms Tower needed to be demolished." Jackson says, moving past her into the backroom where he locates a towel to dry his hair. "I'm yet to figure out how he wasn't caught or killed."

"You're making a name for yourself, Reggie." Connie says, moving around to the other side of the bar. "Not entirely sure if it's a good one, but...a name nonetheless."

"Yeah well, I'm just prepared to do whatever is necessary to take this city back." Wrench shrugs, gladly accepting the beer she places on the bar for him. "If that involves blowing up Albion property or smashing up Blume server stacks with my hammer, so fucking be it."

"It's dangerous." Jackson appears from the backroom, tossing the towel at him. "You better change that sweater by the way. You'll catch a chill."

"What are you my mother!?" Wrench let's out a modulated grunt, pulling up his mask slightly and downing about half of the beer he'd been handed. "Give me a break, we made it back okay!"

"And what happens if you end up getting arrested, or seriously wounded?" Jackson asks, opting for a bottle of water instead of anything alcoholic.

"Oh no." Wrench shakes his head placing his bottle down on the bars surface, his exposed mouth smirking. "There's no injuries with me. Either I get the job done, or die trying."

"You genuinely don't care if you live or die?" Jackson asks, giving him a look. "Seriously?"

"I don't have this for nothing." Wrench points at the anarchy symbol on his neck. "I don't live by rules, that includes the ones to do with life and death."

Jackson is about to say something when the door pushes open and Aiden comes in, feeling about as miserable as he looked. He was wet, but not in the same way the two of them were, something else had happened to him. "Wow! What happened to you!"

"I fell in the Thames." Aiden grumbles, shaking the water from the sleeves of his overcoat. "...actually I dove in there after some thugs caught me stalking them."

"Oh that reminds me!" Connie suddenly pipes up, her hand tapping Wrench's right forearm. "There was a bloke in here earlier on. He was asking for you."

"A bloke?" Wrench replies, questions marks lighting up his askew mask. He downs more of his beer. "Who was it?"

"No idea." Connie shakes her head, smiling. She reaches under the bar, taking out a small piece of white card paper. "But he was lovely, all charms...asked me to pass this onto you."

Wrench eyes the card for a second, opting to pull off his mask entirely. He takes a hold of it, turning it around. Someone had written a note in red-ink.

YOU NEED TO ANSWER YOUR PHONE, MAN ALSO THE WEATHER HERE IS NUTS!!! SEND ME A MESSAGE WHEN YOU GET THIS oh...and thank Connie for the free cookies. - M

He suddenly let's out a cough as he chokes on the beer he's drinking. Lifting the card up. "...motherfucker!"

"What?" Jackson stops trying to wrestle his Uncle out of his coat. "What is it?"

"I'll be right back." Wrench says, leaving his beer and his mask at the bar. He heads out into the rain, ignorant to the fact that it was making him wetter than he already was.

Taking his out his phone, he swipes up the contacts tab, scrolling down until he finds the right number. He thumbs it, his Optik lighting up and dialling.

After a tone or two, he hears a click.

"You took your time." Marcus' voice was something that he would never ever tire of hearing, especially now, especially after all of the shit he'd been through the last year or two. "I was wondering if Connie would get that to you."

"You're here." is all Wrench can say, unsure of what he should do now. Part of him wanted to jump for joy, another wanted to cry. "...you're actually here. In London."

"Yeah, I guess I couldn't just sit there in SF and let you have all the fun." Marcus chuckles. "...that little job we did together a few months back reminded me of how much I enjoyed having you around."

"Where are you right now?" Wrench asks, reaching up this face, rubbing at it. "Are you nearby?"

"Why?" Marcus asks, a smile evident in his voice. "You that desperate to see me?"

"Yes." Wrench admits it there and then. In truth there hadn't been anything he wanted to do more than see him again. "...It was the same for me. I didn't realise how much fun I used to have with you until you found me through, Jordi."

He moves over to one of the benches, sitting down on it. All around him, London was going about it's business, people were walking past, umbrellas in hand, hoods covering their heads. Looking out across Parliament Green, he sighs.

"I hear you've been having some fun outwith our little shared Op." Marcus says. "Something about killing Nigel Cass?"

"He had it coming." Wrench snorts bitterly, shaking his head. "Fuckin' maniac thought he could subvert justice and launch a coup...which reminds me, I've got to introduce you to the Dick."

"The Dick?" he hears the Hipster's confusion. "Who's that? Dusan's cousin?"

"Might as well be." the Anarchist nods, smiling to himself. "His name is Richard Malik...and he's a massive prick...but he's been useful to us."

"Wait...is that the same Richard Malik who was appointed Director of SIRS, only to be exposed literally 2 days later?" Marcus asks.

"That's the one." Wrench nods, sitting forwards. Staring at the concrete between his shoes. "I should send you the vids from when Bagley used his own FILAMENT against him."

"FILAMENT?"

"...what were his exact words?" Wrench's eyes narrow. "It's like...Nudle, but with instant access to all information about every person in the UK...basically George Orwell's wet dream."

The laugh that Marcus let's out is cathartic, such a delightfully bright noise, and one he could never get enough of. One he hoped he would hear more of soon.

It's short lived though, as a whole load of other feelings come to the surface in the pause that follows. He deflates a little. "I've missed having you around, M."

"I know." Marcus replies.

"So where are you?" Wrench asks. "Are you coming back this way? Or am I going to have to find you?"

He gets no response to those questions. His eyes narrow slightly. "M?"

Suddenly there's a movement in his peripherals, at which point a hand appears, holding his mask. He looks at it for a second, almost stunned.

"You're making a habit of leaving that thing lying around..." Marcus says, having just sat down next to him. "...am I gonna have to retrieve it for you every time you misplace it?"

Wrench doesn't move, he just sits there, frozen in place. Marcus had aged, much like himself, but not in the way he was expecting. He still looked pretty much the same as he always had, spare the scruff around his face and neck, which had turned into a full beard...and a little tinge of silver hair on his fringe.

Something shifts inside him at that moment, a tightness in his core that he wasn't even aware of unravels. A laughs bubbles out of him, one that turns to a sob half-way, and without so much as a word he puts an arm around him and pulls him into a hug, hiding his face in his shoulder.

"Huh." Marcus says, placing the mask onto his lap and closing the hug. "Of all the reactions I was ready for...this wasn't one of them."

"Shut up." Wrench says, his voice muffled by his shoulder. "Just-...Just shut up."

Marcus laughs out loud again.

. . .

[tsarisfanfiction]

Explosive

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Teen Genre: Hurt/Comfort Characters: Gordon, Scott

The erupting volcano was almost sedate compared to the fraying tempers in the danger zone.

For @whumptober-archive’s day 5 “I’ve got red in my ledger” using the prompt broken nose.  Today was tough - I actually started poking at alt. prompts for a while, but they didn’t want to flow, either.  Still, we got somewhere in the end!

The sound of a breaking nose was distinctive.  Cartilage crumpled, bone shattered, and it all combined into a unique symphony that once heard once, was never forgotten again.

Gordon had known that Scott was having trouble with some rescuees; it was hard not to, when their loud and explosive protests had been broadcasting clearly through Scott’s open comm. That was the whole reason he’d left the other part of the danger zone – a small town directly in the path of a leisurely yet unrelenting volcanic eruption – to Virgil and Alan in order to back their big brother up.  Sure, Virgil probably could corral their reluctant rescuees with a combination of his seemingly-eternal patience and sheer bulk, but if Scott’s Commander persona wasn’t getting through, then Gordon wasn’t a fan of throwing Virgil into the mix. Alan wasn’t even a consideration.

He’d recommended himself, John had agreed, and Scott hadn’t even given any indication that he’d heard him over the increasingly-aggressive sounding rescuee, so he went.

Unfortunately, it sounded very much like he hadn’t got there in time.  There was, of course, a chance that Scott had snapped and been the first to lash out, but Gordon was doubtful that that was the case, even if he’d personally prefer it over Scott being the victim.  Scott was good at keeping his temper under control on rescues, provided none of his family were threatened – and as he was alone in his sector of the danger zone, there was no way they were successfully threatening the rest of them. Ergo, the one with the freshly broken nose was Scott, and Gordon was incredibly displeased at that.

They were still shouting, none of their voices tinged with the tell-tale thickness of a broken nose, and the sound of more contact echoed across the comm.

Gordon accelerated a little more, breaking into a risky jog as he closed in on Scott’s location. Ungrateful and difficult rescuees were the worst, especially when they got violent towards his brothers.  Scott could, in theory, handle it – although it was sounding rather like this time he couldn’t – but Kayo was the only other one of his siblings whose self-defence skills were greater than simply passable so Gordon often ended up as some form of defence.

That didn’t mean he liked doing it.  They were there to help people, not fight them.

He slowed his pace again on the final approach, wanting to get a visual on the situation before actually getting involved.  Blue and yellow wasn’t the best for stealth, but if no-one was actively looking for someone else nearby, he could disguise his presence reasonably well.

There were three of them, all yelling loudly.  Smart businessmen in suits, but one was built a lot like Virgil and his face was a similar colour to Thunderbird Three as he roared at Scott.  Gordon’s brother was backed up against a crumbling building that looked like it had been victimised by the warning quakes – another concern to keep an eye on – with one hand cupping his face in a way that made it perfectly clear that he was the one with the broken nose and the other balled into a fist of frustration.

His restraint was admirable; Gordon could tell that his temper was seething, and that the temptation was there to lash out in retaliation, but so far he hadn’t stooped to their level.

Gordon’s job was to make sure he didn’t.

“What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?” he inquired, stepping over some other quake-caused rubble as he made his presence known – still far enough away that they couldn’t just take a swing at him.  “You know, this area is in the path of a whole load of lava and leaving would be a really good idea.”

“We’re not leaving!” the red-faced hulk snarled.  To Gordon’s relief, he turned away from Scott to face him instead.  “Get your fancy machines over here and protect my property.”

One of those, was he? Gordon wished he was surprised, but the arrogant, sharply dressed businessmen almost always cared more for their property than their lives.  It made them incredibly tiring to deal with.

“Sir, that’s a wall of lava bearing down on us,” he pointed out, taking another step closer.  “We can’t stop it, just get everyone out of its path before they end up like the residents of Pompeii.”

And Herculaneum, John’s voice snarked in the back of his head, although John himself was too busy directing Virgil and Alan while keeping an eye on the volcano itself to contribute to the conversation.

Red turned to a rather impressive shade of purple instead.  “I demand that you protect my property,” the man exploded, rather like the erupting volcano itself.  “It’s worth more than you could possibly imagine.”

Considering the Tracys ranked somewhere particularly impressive in the list of richest families in the world, Gordon probably could.  The attending Thunderbirds alone were likely worth more than whatever it was he was trying to protect.  He knew better than to mention that, though.

“That volcano really doesn’t care,” he said instead, which probably wasn’t much better.  Movement behind the men facing him indicated that Scott was doing the smart thing and getting out of his cornered situation, although Gordon wasn’t naïve enough to think that he was being smart enough to leave the confrontation entirely.

“I don’t care what the volcano thinks,” purple-face yelled, lunging forwards.  Gordon had been wondering when he’d snap again.

Already on guard, and not hemmed in against a building with nowhere to go, it was a piece of cake to duck down beneath the flailing arm, watch him overbalance, then grab his wrist and yank him into a submission hold.

“Hey!”  The other men reacted, but Gordon glared at them and they halted in their tracks.

“Look,” he told the struggling man.  “Our job is people, not properties, and we’re not leaving you to die so either you come with us peacefully, or I’ll force you.”  He tightened his grip.  “And we do not appreciate being attacked for trying to save your sorry asses.”

“Gordon!” Scott scolded, although his name came out all mangled thanks to the broken nose. Gordon elected to ignore him.

“There’s nothing International Rescue can do to stop the volcano destroying whatever it wants to destroy,” he continued.  Purple-face gaped breathlessly, while the other two watched.  “So are you going to go to the evac zone willingly, or do I have to force you?”

Scott’s hand clamped down on his own shoulder, but Gordon continued to ignore him in favour of waiting for the answer.

It didn’t take long.

“I’ll go, I’ll go! Let me go and I’ll go right now!”

Like many of their more aggressive encounters, it was all bravado shielding a delicate ego.  Gordon released him and quickly stepped backwards, out of range of any other potential attacks – pushing Scott out of the way as he did – but it seemed that this one actually knew when he was beaten.

A dark look, an under-the-breath grumble that was probably some version of the cliché I’ll get you for this, and the man scarpered.  The other two, who were almost certainly just lackeys, followed hot on his heels, and Gordon watched them go with narrowed eyes.

“Gordon,” Scott repeated again, all nasally and disapproving.  He rolled his eyes – it wasn’t like Scott wouldn’t have done the same or worse had their situations been reversed – before turning to face his big brother.

“How did you let that guy get a hit on you?” he asked, mostly as a distraction and not because he was interested in the answer.  Scott huffed, then winced.

Gordon closed the gap between them and reached for his cheek, carefully prying the concealing hand out of the way so he could see the damage properly.

“Gordon-”

“There’s no-one else left in this sector, Virgil and Alan have the rest of it under control, and that lava’s taking its sweet time approaching,” he reminded him coolly.  “There is plenty of time for me to check you over."  He lay his hand gently on Scott’s cheek, pushing himself up on tip-toe to be closer to eye level.

His nose was going to need re-setting; Gordon could do it right there, but it’d be without painkillers, whereas if they waited until they were back to Thunderbird Two they’d have the full medical compliment, including Virgil.  Blood dripped sluggishly down, crossing Scott’s upper lip and dripping periodically onto his lower, and the classic twin black eyes were already beginning to blossom.

Scott suffered the inspection impatiently, switching his weight from foot to foot and glancing around the danger zone with an angsty air.  Gordon was too used to his big brother’s quirks to be bothered by any of that.

“You’re getting some beautiful shiners,” he declared, swiping away the next dribble of blood with his thumb before releasing Scott’s head.  The look Scott gave him could only be interpreted as thank you, Captain Obvious.  “No light-headedness, double-vision, or any other signs of concussion?”

“I’m fine,” came the muffled, irritated, response.  Gordon suspected he was at least partially annoyed with himself for being jumped in the first place.  “We have an evacuation to finish.”  It came out more like we hab an ebacuadun do binid.

Gordon eyed him critically, well aware that Scott wouldn’t admit to anything if he thought he could just push through it, but concurred.

He changed his mind approximately four seconds later, when Scott stumbled and swayed slightly.

“No light-headedness?” he repeated pointedly, fingers firmly wrapped around his brother’s bicep and holding him upright.

Scott didn’t acknowledge that with a verbal response, but the way he tugged to keep walking was enough for Gordon.

“Change of plan,” he chirped, taking the lead and guiding a somewhat reluctant Scott straight towards Thunderbird Two.  “Virgil and Alan finish off the evac while I give that head of yours a proper scan and we’ll see what’s wrong.  Well, more wrong than usual, I mean.”  He ducked a half-hearted swipe and tightened his grip when Scott threatened to overbalance again.  “John, you get that?”

“F.A.B.,” their perpetually eavesdropping brother agreed, appearing above his wrist.  “Virgil and Alan have been updated and the local authorities informed about the dangerous rescuees.”

“Perfect,” Gordon said. “Hear that, Scott?  You’ve got nothing to do except let me check you over, and I’ve got nothing to do except check you over, so let’s go do that and make sure you didn’t get a concussion.”

“I’m not concussed,” Scott protested thickly.

“Which is exactly what a concussed Scott Tracy would say,” Gordon pointed out.  Scott stumbled again and he graduated from holding his bicep to wrapping his arm around his waist.  “It’s just one measly little scan, Scott.  It won’t bite.”

The glare he got in response to that was almost enough to convince him that Scott was probably fine. Almost.

Gordon chuckled as they approached the large green Thunderbird.  Her module was open, with rescuees milling around concernedly, so he made a beeline straight for the cockpit, Scott in tow.  His brother stumbled again, and Gordon firmly pushed him to sit in one of the passenger seats before retrieving a medscanner.

No concussion, but there was a minor head injury – not including the obvious.  Gordon supressed a growl that would’ve been aimed at people out of earshot regardless, and dabbed lightly at the blood still sluggishly trickling down with a clean gauze.  His brother attempted to take over, or at the least bat him away, but Gordon caught his hand in his and guided it firmly to rest on his lap.

“Let me do it,” he scolded lightly.  “I can actually see where it is.”

It was a pretty feeble reason, admittedly – mirrors existed – but Gordon didn’t particularly care because he had no intentions of passing over the ministrations to anyone else anyway. If he did, he might just cave to the roaring instincts to teach the man – men – responsible a detailed lesson on why no-one hurt Gordon’s brothers.

It was much better for everyone involved if he kept himself busy.

[justkending]

A Little Party Never Killed Nobody...

                              1700 Follower Drabble!

A/N: Oh goodness gracious!! I’ve hit 1700 beautiful and loving followers. Everyone of you bringing more and more light into my world:’) In honor of you all helping me fulfill my dream as a writer and supporting me along the way, here is a little drabble for all you sweet humans. I can’t thank you enough, and I can’t express my love for each of you enough as well... 

-So, I stole from my prompt list on an old challenge I did and created a drabble of my own with them! Hope you enjoy my lovelies<3

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 5000+

Prompts:

“I actually did my hair for the first time in 3 months. I think I deserve a medal for this. “

“Dude, it’s 3 in the morning.”

____________

The banging was loud and profusely consistent as Y/N sat up from sleep with a groan. She sent a death glare to the door as if it was the culprit to waking her, but she knew it was one of her teammates that would soon be dead...

“What?!” she said bitterly, quickly tearing open the door. 

Bucky was on the other side with a slick grin showing his amusement to the situation. Her hair disheveled from sleep and eyes filled with hatred, but the sports bra and tight sleep shorts were doing something for her in her annoyed state.

“Mission. Be in the helicarrier in bay 3 in 20 minutes,” he said with a smirk before turning in his step to walk away.

“Dude, it’s 3 in the morning!” she shouted after him.

“Evil doesn’t sleep,” he responded without looking back.

All he heard from behind him was a strangled groan mixed with a muffled scream as she went back in her room and slammed the door. 

____________

The last to board the helicarrier, Y/N walked in throwing her things to the side, and sat in a seat immediately falling to her side to fall asleep again.

“Wake up, Y/N. We have to do a briefing,” Bucky said, slapping her boot. 

“I swear to God. Do you have a deathwish?” she growled, begrudgingly sitting up and rubbing her eyes. 

“Really not a morning person this one,” Nat laughed coming around the corner. Y/N sending her a glare as well, but not nearly as deadly as the one she saved specifically for Bucky. “Come on. We’ll make it quick, and then we have a 4 hour flight. You can sleep then,” she nodded toward the briefing area of the giant plane. 

Taking a deep breath she stood up following the rest of the team with Bucky behind her. 

“Cicely Rosmarie DeLuca. Daughter of Ramone DeLuca who is a well known crime boss in Italy. Seems to run in the family as Cicely has taken over the control of her family's business within the last 2 years,” Steve explained pulling up pictures on the screen as everyone sat with informational packets on the group in front of them.

“Since when did we start handling crime bosses?” Sam spoke up.

Everyone who had been on this particular mission included; Nat, Sam, Bucky, Steve, Y/N, and Wanda. So if this many Avengers were needed, clearly something much bigger than just crime bosses were involved. 

“Because the DeLuca’s are working with a division group of Hydra. We think they aren’t really in it for what Hydra wants, but more so gaining the alli and making some money on the side,” Steve sighed. “It looks like they have a means to steal plans that could wreak havoc on confidential equipment that we have in the works. Stuff that could easily be modified to become world wide dangers.”

“I have an idea,” Y/N spoke up. The whole crew turned to her. “Let’s just stop creating things that can destroy planet Earth. I feel like that’s a healthy start to creating the safe environment we’ve been fighting so hard to preserve over all these years.” The grin on her face was big and sarcastic and quickly dropped to a bitch face. 

“You can’t help but be a smartass all hours of the day, can you sweetheart?” Bucky groaned a few seats ahead of her. The pet name only there because he knew how much it annoyed her.

“And you can’t help but be a nuisance to my life all hours of the day, can you jackass?” she retorted. 

“You guys. Focus,” Steve interrupted, sending the two his Captain look. “You’re going to have to get along for this mission because we’re going undercover, and we only have one night to get this right.”

“Undercover how?” Wanda asked. 

“There’s a gala in Venice. From what we’ve gathered, the information will be swapped there. We need to hunt it down discreetly and capture the agents working with Hydra. From there, we’ll bring them in for questioning and figure out where exactly they are getting their information from. We believe we have a spy within our facility that’s leaking all the confidential knowledge.”

“And if these Hydra agents happen to do what Hydra does best and kill themselves before we can get anything out of them, then what?” Y/N asked. 

“Ever the optimist,” Bucky mumbled. No one else paid mind to it, but Y/N kicked the back of his chair making him turn and send yet another glare at her.

“We’ve prepared for that,” Steve said, nodding to Nat to go to the next slide. “We have devices, drugs, and antidotes in case cyanide becomes involved. The capsules of drug and equipment being used incapacitates them long enough to get them back to our base and keep in holding. From there, we will take other precautions to keep them from doing anything stupid that involves cyanide. Again, we don’t know if that will be the case, but with our history with Hydra, they have yet to prove us wrong.”

“So basically, you’re bringing us to go to a party to roofie Hydra agents. I gotta say, not what I was expecting from our high tech division,” Y/N nodded with a small laugh.

“It’s the best way to keep discrete and not cause a scene or hopefully any fatalities at the gala. They are using a charity for cover, and I rather not actual good people get hurt in the end,” Steve sighed. “Now, we land in 3 and a half hours. Once landed get your gear ready, look over your profiles, and get prepared for the gala. Like I said we are going undercover, so look your best.”

“This doesn’t happen to be a black tie gala, does it?” Bucky asked. 

“What gala isn’t?” Sam retorted. 

“Suits are already ready to go in the other room. Ladies, our dresses are in section 11 of the ship,” Nat explained, standing and gathering her things. “Y/N, that means you're going to figure out how to walk in heels,” she smirked. 

“I think we’ll need more time than you’re giving us for that to ever be convincing,” Bucky snickered. Sam laughed too. 

“Oh, shut the fuck up. I’ve done missions like this before. Just because I don’t wear an evening gown everyday, doesn’t mean I can’t pull one off,” she stood, walking by and flicking the back of Bucky’s head. 

Her, Nat, and Wanda leaving the room while Bucky held the crown of his head in vexation. 

“Son of a-” he started going to stand and retaliate. 

“Buck, I’m going to need you to pull it together for one night,” Steve said, cutting him off from his path to harass Y/N. “You and Y/N are teammates. So either put on a face or suck it up for the night.”

“I’m not the one you need to be telling that too. The she-witch in there is going to be the one to mess it up if any of us,” Bucky argued.

“Y/N is a well trained spy and the best marksman on the team as of right now. She will do her job and you’ll do yours. You have to let the petty fighting go for one night, ok?”

“Come on Cap. You know it’s more than just petty arguments. Bucks gotta crush,” Sam said singing the last words.

With wide eyes, Bucky turned to Sam. “I do not! She’s nothing but an annoying headache added to my life... Scratch that. Migraine.”

“That’s what someone with a crush would say,” Sam said with a grin and squinted eyes. 

“I don’t have a-” Bucky started.

“Hey Cap. Nat needs you real quick,” Y/N said poking her head back in. Everyone turned to her as if they just got caught doing an illegal act and stayed silent. “Did I walk in on something?”

“No,” Steve shook his head. “I’ll be there in a second.” 

She nodded before giving everyone a furrowed eyebrow in confusion as she left. “Weirdos,” she mumbled walking away.

Steve let out a deep sigh. “Just behave yourself tonight. If you do, Y/N will too.” He walked to leave the room. 

“Yeah, right,” Bucky scoffed. 

“Yeah, your 100% smitten,” Sam laughed walking past him out of the room.

“No, I’m not!”

__________________

The time had come. Everyone was prepared. Lookouts were in their designated spots, any tech that was being used was up and live, and everyone was about to meet at the Gala. 

“Ok, Nat, you’re with me tonight. Sam and Wanda you two will be with each other. And Bucky and Y/N, you two will be partners as well,” Steve explained over the coms. 

All the women had arrived just a few minutes later and the men were already scoping out the place.

“Wait, what?” Bucky responded back. Sam standing next to him.

“Oh, he definitely did that on purpose,” Sam chuckled. 

“Why the hell would he? We don’t work well together,” Bucky groaned, looking around for her. 

“Well, you better figure it out. At least for tonight,” Sam patted his back, taking a champagne glass from the passing waiter and moving to find his chosen partner. 

Bucky rolled his eyes into another dimension thinking about the all annoying arguments that he was sure would be apart of the night.

“Fine, Y/N what are you wearing?” Bucky asked in the comms.

“James, I’m flattered, but I don’t really like you in that way,” her sass came back through the ear piece. 

“Steve,” Bucky groaned. 

“Guy’s stop it. Y/N tell Bucky what you're wearing so we can start this mission. We don’t have all night,” Steve instructed with irritation. 

“A black dress,” she sighed. 

“Wow, real descriptive. Let me just search through all 500 of them I see,” Bucky said sarcastically. 

“I’m by the rip off Vincent van Gogh painting on the east side. Next to the waterfall,” she explained. 

Bucky took a deep breath walking over in her direction. It was a really crowded place, so maneuvering through people to find her became difficult. That was until he reached the fountain she was talking about, and the people had thinned out some. 

Glancing all around, he couldn’t pick her out from all the black dresses he’d seen. 

“Y/N, where the hell are you?” he whisper shouted in the comms. No answer. “Of fucking course no answer,” he said to himself. 

But upon sharper inspection, he noticed her face in the distance. 

And holy shit. 

That did not look like the Y/N he was used to. I mean it did, but she was usually a natural beauty. Not that she wasn’t right now, but done up the way she was was a whole different kind of beauty. 

Her dress was a black off the shoulder evening gown. The middle section of it was a see through mesh, and the top part of it looked as if it she had a bra on full display. Only bringing more attention to her perfectly modeled torso. Her hair was done in an elegant, but messy, kind of braid. The whole ensemble flowing together and creating an refined and formal Y/N that Bucky had never got the chance before tonight to see. 

Having looking that stunning, Bucky wasn’t surprised to see the men around her glance her way. However, the man that was only a few feet into her space and talking up a storm looked to be making Y/N uncomfortable. She had on a fake smile trying not to bring attention to herself, but disgust to the older and space invading man, was showing in her eyes.

Quickly, Bucky maneuvered to her.

“There you are, doll,” he smiled widely at her, putting his arm out and wrapping it around her waist as he pulled her side into him. “I must have gone to the wrong fountain looking for you,” he winked. 

As if in instinct, she leaned into his side and brought her hand to his chest lightly patting it. 

“Oh dear, you and your directionally challenged self. I can’t take you anywhere,” she laughed in a surprisingly domestic way. 

“Oh, is this your-?” the older, and now looking at him closer, creepy man started looking Bucky up and down. 

“My date, yes,” she answered. “If you’ll excuse us, we have some other friends that we were supposed to be meeting with,” she patted Bucky’s chest. “Right, honey?”

Lost while staring down at Y/N, he didn’t answer right away, but when he looked back at the old man who had a suspicious look on his face, he snapped out of it. 

“Uh, yes. If you’ll excuse us,” he said offering his arm, which she took and intertwined herself into him. 

They walked away quickly before the man could say anything else and once a good distance away, Y/N let out a deep sigh. 

“Take it you weren’t the one that approached him?” Bucky chuckled. 

“99% of the time it’s not the woman doing the approaching. It’s the sexually frustrated, overcompensating, and egotistic assholes that do,” she shook her head. 

Ok that made him chuckle a little.

“Well, glad I could be of service,” Bucky nodded looking around them. If he was going to stay focused on the mission, he couldn’t be looking at her. She had proven herself to be a distraction for the night while looking like that. 

“Yes, thank you. I would have done something about it, but I don’t think throat punching someone in the middle of a gala would have been normal entertainment for these people,” she said almost in disgust at the crowd around them. All prissy and rich, donating only a 164th of their wealth to try and not come off as greedy. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that right. Did you just say… Thank you?” Bucky teased. 

“Don’t push your luck, Barnes,” she countered, but when she looked up at him there was a small smile on her dark maroon lips. A look Bucky had never really been on the receiving end of. 

He returned it in surprise and noticed just how devastatingly gorgeous she looked up close. Had she always been this stunning and Bucky never noticed. Ok, well he had noticed, but with the constant fighting and bickering they did, it was hard to focus on it. 

Without thinking, his thoughts spilled out. “You look very nice tonight,” he said to her. Instantly blushing and looking away.

“A compliment? I didn’t know you knew how to use those,” she gasped teasingly. 

“Don’t push your luck, Y/L/N,” he retorted back. The smile still stuck on his face. 

“Time out. Are we being civil right now?” she asked, halting her steps. Bucky stopped and looked back at her. 

“It’s possible if you just learn how to be less aggravating,” he smirked. 

“There it is. Whew, I was worried we were getting along for a second,” she laughed, continuing their walk.

Bucky hadn’t heard that laugh ever. At least not directed to something he had said. And damn, he liked it. Why the hell did he have to like it?

 “You know? I actually did my hair for the first time in 3 months. I think I deserve a medal for this,” she added. 

“I don’t think they give out medals for that,” Bucky couldn’t help himself, but laugh with her. 

“Well, they should. It took quite a bit of effort. Doing hair could be an olympic spot in itself,” she shrugged. 

“Ok, everyone in their sections?” Steve’s voice came through the comms.

“Good here,” Sam spoke up. 

“We’re set here,” Y/N checked in.

“Great. Keep an eye out for the individuals we’re here for. Y/N, Bucky, you guys keep an eye on the DeLuca’s. If they venture off from the party, it could be the meeting we’re here for. So follow and keep us updated,” Steve instructed. 

“Got it, Cap,” Bucky voiced in. “Alright, shall we mingle?” he asked, looking down at Y/N.

“I mean, if we must,” she deflated some on his arm, but quickly put on a mask straightening and acting as if she went to an event like this every weekend. 

______________

They conversed, they faked life stories with the rich, they drank, and they easily convinced everyone around them they were just another pair of investors. The mission was doing fine other than the fact, nothing suspicious had happened yet. 

The was until, Y/N was getting her 4th drink and Bucky noticed Cicely DeLuca was conversing with someone they had kept an eye on all night. And now, was headed off to another room with them. 

“Y/N,” Bucky said coming up behind her. “They're moving.”

Y/N took a long sip of the wine in her hand. She squinted toward the group and nodded. 

“Ok, let’s get to business,” she nodded, walking straight to them.

“Y/N!” Bucky shouted quickly, grabbing her arm before she got to far, and she fell into him some. 

“Oops,” she giggled, stumbling on her feet. 

“Wait a second. Are you drunk?” he asked in a concerned voice. 

“No, no,” she brushed off. Clearing her throat. “No… Ok, a little tipsy, but not drunk,” she waved off. “I lost count of the champagne, and I’m pretty sure they have a high proof brand.”

“Dear God. We're on a mission, Y/N. What were you thinking?!” 

“I was thinking, free alcohol,” she smirked before standing straighter. “No time to talk about it. We need to go.”

She turned and quietly marched to follow. Bucky close behind caught up to her and wrapped a hand her arm.

“You’re a mess. Just let me lead,” he groaned pulling her arm through his and keeping her close.

“You smell good,” she noted. 

He looked down at her and saw she was giving him a soft sincere smile. Really? Out of all times, this is when she decided to make Bucky’s head all fuzzy. 

“Come on,” he sighed, pulling her gently to the corridor the suspicious group disappeared into. 

Discreetly they stayed around the corner and watched the DeLuca’s and guests go into a secluded room. No one else was in the halls but them and a few guards posted at the doors. 

“Shit,” Bucky whispered. 

“What?” Y/N asked peeking her head around to see what Bucky saw, but she peeked out a little too much and the guard heard them. He quickly pulled her back from view.

“Damn it, Y/N,” Bucky whispered to her in a frustrated way. 

He was going to pull her away down another hallway to try and keep from being fully caught, but he wasn’t fast enough, and the guard started to come around the corner. 

Without getting a second to prepare, Y/N crashed her lips into Bucky’s and wrapped her arms around his shoulders behind his neck. A little stunned at first, Bucky froze, but it didn’t take him long to fall into the action with her. He slowly brought his hands around her waist and pulled her flush to him. The kiss hard and frenzied.

“Hey, you two aren’t supposed to be here!” The guard shouted. 

Y/N pulled away and faked shock. 

“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry,” she blushed, adding a fake british accent and pushing herself into Bucky in embarrassment. “We were just trying to find a quiet place to… Well, I won’t get too graphic,” she giggled. 

The man who at first had a hard glare on his face eased up and sighed. 

“It’s fine. I’m just going to need you two go back to the party. This section is closed off,” he instructed coming closer. 

“Of course, of course. You’re only doing your job. I get it,” she smiled a captivating and warm smile untangling herself from Bucky who had yet to be able to form a coherent thought since her surprise make out session. “Let me just grab my clutch real fast- Oop!” She dropped the purse that had opened and the contents of it spilling out. “Oh God. I’m such a clutz,” she laughed. The alcohol created a tint of red in her cheeks only making her little act more convincing. 

“Here, let me help,” the large guard offered, bending to help her grap the loose items. 

“Ever the gentleman,” she beamed up at him. Before he knew it though, the tiny bottle of perfume she had in the clutch let out a spritz in his face. 

He coughed at first, but in seconds fell over asleep. Before he could hit the floor with a thud, Bucky moved to ease him down. 

“What the fuck?” Bucky said with wide eyes as he looked back at her. 

“What? I’m doing my job,” she answered, calmly and collectively putting her things back in her clutch and smoothing out her dress. Her behavior was completely different from 2 seconds ago. “Tipsy doesn’t mean I’m completely incompetent.”

The footsteps of the second guard coming around the corner were getting closer. 

“Move him,” Y/N directed before walking toward the other threat. 

By the time Bucky had placed the other man in a closet nearby and turned the corner where Y/N had gone, he saw her dragging the second guard back his way.

“A little help, muscles?” she groaned at the heavy set guy in her hands. 

Bucky quickly did the same with the second guard placing them in closets and blocking the door with a heavy decorative table. 

“Cap, we’re at the meeting room. Both guards taken care of and about to put the listening device on. You ready?”

“Nat?” Steve asked.

“On it”, Nat replied. “Y/N, if you can’t get into the room, stick it to the door. I can get feedback that way too,” she instructed. 

Bucky looked at Y/N. “Where’s the device?” he asked.

“One second,” she exhaled. She placed her hand on his shoulder for support as she lifted her foot and dug out a small mechanism from her heel. “For once, heels are useful in my life,” she sighed, putting her foot back down and activating it. “Keep watch.” She moved to the double doors the suspects were in and placed it on the outside as Bucky kept an eye down the hallway. 

“Why do I feel like a sidekick in this and not an actual agent?” Bucky mumbled. 

“Because you're Robin and I’m the Batman in this scenario, didn’t you know?” she said with a wink and her sarcasm coming back. 

He rolled his eyes before looking back down the hall. 

“Ok, we’re in,” Nat explained. “Sam and Wanda head to their location for stand by in case they need backup.”

“Copy that,” Wanda spoke up. 

They all listened in on the conversation but so far it had just been exchanging casualties and nothing having to do with evil plans. 

“God, talk about a boring party,” Y/N sighed next to Bucky as they waited for something to happen. 

“Wasn’t boring 5 minutes ago,” Bucky thought to himself. 

He couldn’t help but look over to her and study her again. She was focused on the view from the balcony off to the side. You could see the party happening down there, but it was a private spot where the people below couldn’t really see them up where they were.

She fidgeted with the small mesh strap that wrapped around her arms creating the off the shoulder look. Her eyes darting around as if some form of danger was down there and not behind her.

“What are you seeing?” he asked. 

“Don’t know. But something about this seems off,” she said softly. 

“Off how?” he went on. 

“It’s been 5 minutes of small talk and nothing about what we came here for. It’s usually straight to dirty business with these things.” She looked back at him, but the look in his eye wasn’t showing interest in the mission. He looked like he was thinking about something else. Turning back to the balcony she spoke up. “What’s going on in that head of yours Barnes? You catching something I’m not?”

“Why’d you kiss me?” he said bluntly. 

She stiffened and turned back to him. “What?”

“You could of easily just acted drunk and done something with that to throw him off, but you kissed me. And not just a fake, ‘I’m trying to act kiss’ That was a full on kiss,” he said taking a step to her. 

“We’re on a job Bucky. I have to make it as convincing as possible,” she said, but there was a weird hesitancy in her voice. “That or we would have been caught and dealing with two highly trained security guards, possibly causing a ruckus that would have brought attention to us.”

He paused. He was looking too far into it, wasn’t he? He just made an awkward situation out of nothing. 

“Though, I can’t not say you in that suit had something to do with it,” she mumbled to herself, but the super soldier hearing beat out her quiet confession.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Bucky grinned shocked and stood behind her. 

“You look good in a suit, ok? It made it a little easier kissing you,” she huffed not making eye contact with him. “Don’t get too big an ego there, bud.”

Though he could come up with about 30 different things to say and push her buttons with that confession, that’s not where his mind went. 

When she turned, not hearing a witty response for the co-worker, she didn’t expect to see him right behind her and almost chest to chest at the movement. 

“What are you-” she started, but looking up into his eyes, she didn’t see irritation this time. No, she saw lust. His eyes dilated to where the blues of his eyes just covered the rims. “Bucky,” she said in a hushed whisper not being able to break her gaze from his lips.

But before she could question him, he lowered himself to her level and connected their lips once again that evening. His hand going from her cheek to behind her neck pulling her in. Her hands at first on his chest nervous at the closeness, but now grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him closer. 

Frantic and starved was the best way to describe that kiss. As if it had been a long time coming, and tasted oh so much sweeter after marinating all this time. 

They eventually pulled away from the intoxicating and dizzying action. Both of their eyes practically black looking at the other. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” Bucky confessed. 

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said, still trying to catch her breath. 

Breaking the moment up, they heard a crash come from the other side of the doors they were monitoring. 

“Shit,” Y/N said, quickly making haste to the room. Bucky two steps behind her. 

Bucky kicked open the doors and saw Hydra agents pointing their gun at the DeLuca’s. Though their job wasn’t to take care of the crime boss family, no one needed to get hurt. 

The gun quickly turned on Bucky, but before the shot could be made, a knife flew into the man's shoulder causing him to grasp it and fall to the ground in agony.

“Nice shot,” Bucky smirked. 

“Thanks, now focus!” She smiled back before the two went in and a whole fight scene evolved. 

Sam and Wanda were there seconds later, and as if the easiest task in the world, all the bad guys were in the hands of the Avengers.

No one died, and everyone that was needed for questioning was put to sleep somehow and brought back to the helicarrier. 

________________

“Nice work, Y/L/N,” Steve patted her shoulder that hadn’t been injured. 

At some point in the fight, the sleeves she had been fiddling with on her shoulders had restricted her to defend herself from a knife. In the act of cutting her though, it also cut the sash off and Y/N used it to her advantage. She had used the fabric as a way to tie up the man who assaulted her and render him defenseless after some light manipulation with the sash made his weaponless. Crazy the things you can make dangerous when your a trained spy. 

“Thanks Cap,” she smiled, hissing as the nurse on board put a disinfectant on the wounds. 

“Hey, coming out with just one injury is a win when you use a ribbon as your weapon,” Bucky chuckled walking over. Hands in his pockets and a smile taking over his features. 

“You’re not wrong,” she laughed before hissing again at another round of alcohol to the open cut.

“I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but we are going to wrap this up to keep from infection. Let me go grab the gauze,” the nurse informed her, heading to the medical bay. 

“Nice work tonight,” Bucky said, sitting next to her. “I guess working side by side isn’t as horrible as I suspected.”

“Eh, it wasn’t horrible, but it wasn’t great,” she said shrugging. Bucky sent her a blank stare and slowly blinked, not amused. “Oh, lighten up. I’m just pulling your leg,” she laughed, shoving his shoulder lightly. “You’re not that bad of a partner.”

He eased up and a soft smile formed on his lips before he looked back down. 

“Listen,” he started. 

“How do you feel about getting coffee when we get back?” she cut him off. 

“What?” Bucky said sitting straighter. 

“Coffee. You know that drink that gives people energy. It’s usually served around breakfast time, but in Europe they actually-”

“I know what coffee is,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “I’m just a little shocked.”

The nurse came back around the corner and motioned for Y/N to come with her. She got up and turned back to Bucky before she followed. 

“You shouldn’t be, considering what happened on that balcony,” she winked, making him blush as she disappeared around the corner. 

“Damn,” Bucky eventually said to himself when he could form a thought. “She’s going to be the death of me…”

Marvel Tags:

@thejourneyneverendsx @death-unbecomes-you @heyiamthatbitch @lizzymacy555 @iheartsebastianstan @srrymydood @xa-dia @redhairedfeistynerd @morganclaire4 @connie326 @captain-asguard @mollygetssherlockcoffee

Bucky Barnes Tags:

@morganclaire4

My Lovelies forever:

@natura1phenomenon @lauravicente @traceyaudette @kakakatey @notyourtypicalrose @laneygthememequeen @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @sandlee44 @thorne93 @snffbeebee @thefaithfulwriter @marvelfansworld @essie1876 @greyeyedsmile14 @capsiclehan  @xostephanie @averyrogers83 @awesomenursingstudent @gh0stgurl @cs-please @carls1022 @jjlevin @rainbowkisses31 @carls1022 @anise-d-castle6 @deannotmoose @their-bibliophile @kitkatd7 @willowbleedsonpaper @mariaenchanted​

[jgvfhl]

THE NUMBER LADS ARE STILL HERE!!

Some of these chapters might be uh... less than consistent with the actual chronology of TCW but that's what they get when they don't air the episodes in order! (Read Part 1 and Part 2!)

CT-2222 = Do-si-do = Double Trouble

CT-3333 = Trees = Leafs

ARC-5555 = Fives (duh) = high fives

ARC-1409 = Echo (honorary number lad) = BetterDomino

CC-6666 = Sixes/Death = DEATH

ARC-7777 = Sevenset = RedBoiiiii

CT-8888 = Loops = Loopy

Trees had almost forgotten about the Numbers meeting. Honestly, the only thing reminding him of the day of the week was his own internal clock. A lot had happened, okay? Geonosis was never “fun” for anyone, and he was just glad it was over. His general and commander had both nearly died there--which was only a first for Commander Offee, because that had been the second campaign to Geonosis, and that wasn’t even including the damn brain worms--kriffing sithspit he needed a nap.

But a nap would wait until he could tell the others he was okay. Fortunately, he’d set a reminder for it, so at least he wouldn’t be getting half a dozen comms from Sevenset or Do-si-do about being late. The rest of his squadron was sound asleep by the time the meeting was supposed to start, so out of courtesy, Trees walked to the mess hall, which, at this time, was all but empty. One or two others milled about, looking just as exhausted as Trees felt. He took a seat in one corner, setting the holoprojector on the table and waiting for the transmission to start.

And trying not to fall asleep.

Sevenset started the meeting, Fives and Echo standing beside him like they had last month. They were approaching graduation by now, weren’t they?

“Hey, Trees,” Sevenset smiled.

“Hi.”

“How was bug world?” Fives asked.

Trees gave them a deadpan stare. “How do you think? I’m sure your friends in Torrent have plenty of stories.” The 501st had also been on Geonosis--their Commander Tano had been with Commander Offee onboard the medical transport infested with kriffing brain worms.

Echo smirked. “Yeah, we heard General Skywalker and Commander Tano threw Captain Rex off a building.”

“They did what?” Loops had appeared just as Echo had started speaking.

“Yeah, they’ve done it a lot, apparently,” Fives nodded.

“Kinda sad I missed it,” his batcher said.

“Devastated.”

Trees blinked slowly. “You aren’t. Believe me.”

Sevenset chuckled. “Yeah, you look like you’re falling asleep over there.”

Trees rubbed his face. “Yeah well,” he sighed, resting his chin on his hand, “when your general and commander nearly die twice on the same campaign, and somehow it involves mind controlling parasites, you’d be a little tired.”

The other four all raised their eyebrows at him. Before they had time to ask questions, however, a third hologram appeared. Trees recognized Do-si-do instantly, sitting at a table instead of in his cockpit like normal. But next to him was a new face--as it were. Judging from the glasses on the table and the shifting lighting, they were at 79s on Coruscant. Lucky bastards.

“I found zero!” Do-si-do announced happily. The man next to him gave a little two-finger salute.

Right after that, two more holograms appeared, which made Trees blink and sit up a bit straighter. He was used to Commander Sixes by now--honestly, he was--but after years of training to recognize COs and react accordingly, it was hard to shake the urge to go to attention. But the commander wasn’t the only one joining. Judging by the dull fuschia color of his armor, this was number four, from the Nova Corps.

He looked like he would rather crawl under a rock. Trees had felt similarly upon being press-ganged by Sevenset and Do-si-do to join them.

Sevenset’s face lit up at the two new holograms. “Commander!”

“Stow it, ARC,” came the immediate gruff reply.

“We’ve got two ARCs now,” Do-si-do was quick to point out, tapping the pauldrons of the man next to him.

The commander looked at the newcomer, then looked back at Sevenset. “He knows who I mean.”

“Indeed I do,” the ARC in question answered. “But hey! Two whole new numbers!” Trees couldn’t help the small smile forming on his face. Sevenset’s joy was contagious. “What do we call you guys?”

“I’m Zero,” the man next to Do-si-do replied. He had dark green paint over his armor, --maybe now Trees could convince Sevenset to change his name in the group chat to something other than Green Bean. His pauldrons were both green, and there was an inverted chevron visible over his grey chestpiece. Zero’s head was shaved on both sides, leaving a wide strip of curls down the center, and a tattoo on one side that Trees couldn’t quite make out from the hologram. He also caught sight of wide loops set into his earlobes. This guy almost had Sevenset beat for aesthetic.

They all turned their attention to the marine, who shrank back minisculely from his holoprojector. “Uhm…” He looked like he’d bolt at the next opportunity.

“It’s just your name, marine,” the commander prompted.

Instantly, the man answered, “Fours. I’m Fours.” Fours looked almost regulation from where Trees was sitting. It was hard to tell over hologram, but there might have been the remnants of a dye-job in his short hair, but it was too overgrown to be recognizable. The Nova Corps really didn’t get much time off. The armor they could see on him had vertical stripes painted over each shoulder, ending mid-way down his chestplate, as well as one down the center of his chest, and stripes down each shoulder bell.

Sevenset beamed at them both. “Well, welcome to the party. I’m Sevenset. I see Fours has already met the charming Commander Sixes.” The rest of them introduced themselves one by one, with Sevenset mentioning Echo’s “honorary number status” briefly.

“So… what do you guys actually do in these meetings?” Zero asked afterwards.

Several of the older members shrugged. Sevenset answered, “Eh, just chat. Or… I dunno, spread gossip.”

“They’re largely useless,” the commander said plainly.

Trees smirked at Sevenset’s eyeroll. “Yet, you keep coming to them, Commander,” the red ARC reminded him.

Do-si-do added, “He’s actually never missed one since you dragged him into it.”

Trees could confirm that--he often kept tabs on attendance just so he knew when to be worried if someone missed out. But he also wanted to keep watching Sevenset and Do-si-do taunt Death.

Zero and Fours both looked surprised, although Fours’ expression was a bit harder to read. He was still pretty on-edge. “How did you get Commander Death to join, anyway?” Zero asked, swirling the contents of his glass.

“Sheer willpower,” Sevenset answered smugly.

The commander crossed his arms. “I’m actually waiting for your last functioning brain cell to die from lack of stimulation. It’ll be funnier on camera.”

Fives and Do-si-do both burst out laughing--a problem for the latter, who had just taken a mouthful from his drink and consequently sprayed half of it across the table. Echo and Loops simply had huge grins on their faces, an expression Trees found mirrored on his own face. Sevenset had a sort of strained smile as he waited for Fives and Do-si-do to recover.

“I’m touched you have so much concern for me, Commander.”

“Oh, I’m concerned, alright.” The remark made Fives and Do-si-do break up again.

The commander was definitely warming up to the group, even Trees could see it. He would probably never admit it, but since his first meeting, he’d thawed a bit. Trees almost wished he could have seen their first meeting on Kamino, just to know how close the commander had been to wringing Sevenset’s neck. For old time’s sake.

Once the laughter had died down into smiles, Zero looked to the two batchers standing with Sevenset. “When are you two graduating, anyway?”

“Next week!” Fives announced, beaming with pride.

“Yeah, we get our new gear tomorrow,” Echo smiled.

“Which means this guy,” Fives added, putting an arm around his brother’s shoulders, “is going to stay up all night reading about it, right Echo?”

Echo shrugged his arm off with a well-worn scowl. Trees frowned a little. “Hey, reading up on the kit isn’t a bad idea. I did it. I’ll probably do it again when Phase Two comes out, whenever that’s gonna be.”

Vindicated, Echo folded his arms and lifted his chin at his brother, who rolled his eyes. Zero tipped his glass towards them. “Well, you survived this long. Have fun next week.” He drained what was left of the drink, then slid the glass to the center of the table. Trees really couldn’t wait for leave… he needed a drink after Geonosis. And not just the stuff the boys managed to sneak onboard.

“Hey, Zero,” Loops spoke up, leaning forward a little. “Why haven’t I heard much about the one-eigteenth?”

A good question. Trees knew rather little about Zero’s legion, aside from knowing it was in the Seventh Sky Corps along with the 501st and the 212th. He didn’t even know which Jedi led it.

“Probably--” The green ARC started to answer, then something out of frame caught his attention, and he held up a finger. He stood up and they heard him shout, “Incident! Off the ceiling! Troll, stop helping!” He leaned down. “Hang on.” Then he disappeared out of frame.

“Is someone actually on the ceiling?” Fives asked, looking to Do-si-do for answers.

The pilot nodded, his attention directed upward. “I don’t know how he did it. But he did.”

“Okay, so Torrent should never meet them,” Echo said. “I think we’d watch as the captain went grey from stress before our eyes.”

Fives grinned. “I dunno, it could be fun.”

“No, it would be fun,” his brother agreed, “right until you blow something up and get yourself and others hurt. Then Kix would have your balls.”

“Worth it.” Echo looked between Sevenset and Fives, who had both spoken, then rubbed his face with both hands.

Commander Sixes shook his head. “Never have these problems with my boys.”

Zero returned a minute or two later, another drink in his hand. “Okay. Sorry about that, someone got a balloon stuck in the rafters, and Incident thought it was a good idea to retrieve it.”

“Did he get it?” Loops asked.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Why unfortunately?”

“Because he got a reward for climbing to the ceiling to get it, and he’ll probably try it again later.” He took a drink. “Anyway. One-eighteenth. We’re pretty small for a legion, which is probably why you haven’t heard of us. One company of the two-twelfth is probably most of our troops.”

“Who’s your General?” Echo asked.

“General Veekah Bala.” He got mostly blank stares and couple heads shaking. “Yeah, well. She’s pretty awesome. Togruta, double-bladed lightsaber. Kinda young, like Skywalker, but…” He paused, like he was looking for the right words.

“More sane?” Fives offered. Trees smirked. Skywalker had quite the reputation.

Zero shrugged. “I guess? Dunno, maybe she’s just crazy in a different way.”

“What do you guys do when you’re that small?” Loops prompted further.

“Special stuff--kind of like Rancor, actually. The demo jobs, the stealth missions, that kind of stuff. Each company has a specialty.”

Do-si-do bumped their elbows together lightly. “What’s yours?”

“I’m in Whisper Company. We do stealth and recon and stuff like that. Firebolt is our demo team--that’s… where Troll and Incident are.” He cast a glance towards the ceiling.

Motion drew Trees’ eye to Fives, who had leaned over to whisper something to Echo. Echo thought for a second, then shook his head, a small smile on his face. With Torrent’s reputation, they might like Firebolt, from the sounds of it.

“The other two are Blitz, who hate clankers and bugs more than anyone I’ve ever met, and Enigma, who have made it their sworn mission to hack General Grievous,” Zero finished.

“Hack him?” Sevenset repeated, voicing the confusion on the others’ faces. Except for the commander, because his helmet was still on.

Zero sighed, scratching his head. “Yeah, I dunno. They figure because he’s a cyborg, they can hack his cybernetic parts, right? They’re obsessed. The general totally enables them, too. The Enigma hazing ritual is to hack into a B1 as fast as you can.”

Trees’ face scrunched up slightly. They just kept battle droids around for initiation? That… didn’t seem safe. He and Fours seemed to have similar skeptical reactions to it, but Fives and Echo were nodding along like it made perfect sense. Trees was so glad to be in the 41st.

“What about Whisper?” Loops wanted to know.

Zero just smiled slyly and held up something so they could see. Trees recognized it. Most pilots he’d met had a lucky charm of some kind, either painted on their armor, or their ship, or it was an object they kept with them at all times. Do-si-do had the latter kind: his charm was a dark brown rock with a hole through the center, always in his utility belt. But suddenly it wasn’t.

Do-si-do’s eyes went comically wide for a second, then his hand was flying to the empty pouch on his belt. “What--hey!”

Zero put the stone on the table and slid it to him. “That’s what we do.”

“Steal stuff?” the pilot shot back, snatching the stone up and clutching it to his chest.

“We always give it back.”

Do-si-do was still frowning darkly as he carefully replaced his charm in his belt.

“Huh,” Sevenset nodded. “You guys sound pretty cool. Shame I only learned about you now, honestly.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, we’re usually out of the way, anyway. You know what that’s like, right, Fours?”

The marine stiffened at the sudden attention, and at the subsequent attention from everyone else. Poor guy. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Oh, hey, how’s that mission with Death going?” Sevenset asked him, looking between the marine and the commander. “That’s how he found you right?”

Fours nodded. “Yeah. It’s… good, I guess?”

“They needed the help, that’s for sure,” the commander added. “Although, Bacara’s doing a pretty good job without the general around.”

Trees nodded, remembering General Mundi had assisted on Geonosis, and likely hadn’t been cleared to return to the Nova Corps yet after the assault. Some of the others looked a little lost, though. He reminded them.

“How long do you think he’ll be out?” Fours asked quietly. Trees couldn’t tell if it was genuine concern behind the question or curiosity.

He shrugged. “No idea. I never actually saw him, he was with the two-twelfth most of the time.”

The commander made some nonverbal reply to that before adding, “Well, at least he’ll be coming back. Geonosis has done worse before.”

He would know. Trees had looked him up after his first appearance, just like he had done for them. Commander Sixes had taken part in the first assault on Geonosis over three years ago. As Trees had dug a little deeper, he’d discovered almost nothing but casualty reports in connection. The commander had lost all but three of his original unit that day. Of the three left, two had died in combat, and the third just had a lot of “unknowns” in the report. That might explain the prickly shell of a personality.

Yeah, well, there weren’t brain worms the first time, Trees thought, rubbing his face tiredly. He then realized he’d spoken out loud when the guys who hadn’t been there first balked at him. Whoops.

“Brain worms?” Loops repeated, recoiling, his nose scrunched in disgust. Fours had a similar, though silent, reaction.

“Should’ve had Blitz Co there,” Zero remarked, barely fazed by the revelation.

The commander was oddly silent.

Trees shook his head. “Yeah, well, I’m tired, so I’m gonna turn in. Make sure you add Fours and Zero to the comm link.”

Sevenset nodded. “Will do, Green Bean.”

Trees leveled a deadpan stare at him. “Zero’s green too, get creative. And you’re not the only ARC now, ‘ARCBoi with five i’s,’” he told him, then clicked off the holoprojector.

-------

RedBoiiiii: [image file]

RedBoiiiii: LOOK AT THE NEW ARCS LOOK AT THEM!!!!!

Double Trouble: Yes!! Congrats, guys!

d0nut man: yay! nice paint

high fives: hey how’d you get that so fast??

RedBoiiiii: i know a guy :)

Fives+1: thanks do si do

high fives: echo what is your name

Fives+1: *long sigh*

RedBoiiiii: lol you can change it if you want. i’m the only one with the power to change other people’s names bc i created the chat

BetterDomino: got it

high fives: hey

Double Trouble: oof

d0nut man: hey my buddy Pixel has a handprint too

d0nut man: but he sprays paint around his hand instead of putting the paint on it to make the shape

high fives: oh neat

d0nut man: what’s yours for echo?

BetterDomino: captain rex put a handprint on my original kit on our first mission

high fives: in blood

RedBoiiiii: BLOOD???

BetterDomino: not human blood to be clear

Leafs: and that makes it better???

Leafs: oh maker’s sake, sevenset, really? Leafs?

RedBoiiiii: >:3

BetterDomino: it was rishi eel blood

d0nut man: oh okay

Double Trouble: that tracks

Double Trouble: oh does this mean you’re heading back to the 501st?

RedBoiiiii: yes :’((((

high fives: yeah we got back a couple hours ago

RedBoiiiii: i cri

DEATH: sack up sevens, kamino has enough water without you adding to it

RedBoiiiii: why do you only come into these chats to roast me?

DEATH: you keep standing in firepits

Double Trouble: ouch

high fives: commander sixes sir

BetterDomino: oh no i saw his face

high fives: that was amazing

BetterDomino: aaaaaaand fives has a new idol

high fives: hey echo you wanna come down off your bunk and say that?

BetterDomino: nope im all comfy

Leafs: kick his ass fives

high fives: >:)

Loopy: okay well you guys have been busy

Loopy: oh! Congrats domino the kits look awesome

RedBoiiiii: LOOPS!

BetterDomino: thanks loops!

Loopy: hi sevenset, how are those burns treating you?

RedBoiiiii: what burns

DEATH: you know

Loopy: yeah those :)

RedBoiiiii: ah

WELL IT'S BEEN A SIZZLIN' SECOND SINCE I POSTED PART 2 but that's okay :) Life has been a bit hectic, and also I forgot. Also!! Zero belongs to my dear friend @23-bears and the 118th lads and General Bala have their own blog: @118th-special-forces. Go say hi! And yes, I have part 4 written, so hopefully it won't be another EON between chapters 😬

@blsmjoon @nintendolover13 @darth-void @glubtheflyingfish @peacefulwizardfox @theultimatesandwich @alamogirl80

[blitzturtles]

Title: Freezing

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: DCU / DC Comics

Pairing(s): JayTim w/ Batfam

Summary: “He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“I know what it is,” Jason says a little too quickly, but he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his head around what it means in this particular situation. “He has a pump. You got him a pump.”

Notes: For my 100th fic on Ao3, I thought I'd go back to the beginning. What got me back into writing: DC Comics and the Batfam.

Also, full credit to my wife (@sexyvanillatiger) for not only beta reading this thing, but also helping me with the information on DKA and rewriting several bits of the story to make it work.

For the record, this is an extremely unlikely scenario that most people with an insulin pump won't have to worry about. It has more to do with Tim's particular style of pump originally being one with an external catheter, as well as his being a) underdressed for the weather and b) out for far too long in said weather.

I will say that, though it is unlikely, pump failure due to freezing temperatures has happened, so please be mindful when you're out and about!

-

It’s three in the morning and freezing, and the last thing Jason expects is to hear Dick’s voice ring through the comm in his ear while he’s midair, between the end of one building and the beginning of the next. He’s busy, very nearly disconnects on the spot given the mood he’s in, but Dick seems to sense the impending end of the conversation.

“Wait!”

“What do you want, Nightwing?” He grinds the name out with far too much disdain. It’s not Dick’s fault that he’s in a bad mood.

“It’s Tim. He’s-”

Truth be told, Jason hears nothing after that. After ‘Tim’. Not Red Robin, not Red, not even Babybird. No, just Tim.

“Shit!” He very nearly goes careening off the side of the next building with the abrupt shift in his momentum and the loss of focus. There’s ice clinging to every other surface, which wouldn’t be a problem if he weren’t distracted. He can hear Dick’s frantic voice on the other end of the comm, but he can’t bring himself to care enough to explain.

“Where is he?” Jason demands once he’s regained his footing and has a moment to school his tone into something near neutral.

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. He-”

“What do you mean, ‘We don’t know’? What the fuc-”

“He missed his last check-in,” Dick finishes, unphased by the interruption.

“How long?” Jason asks, barely noticing how his voice shakes.

“Only twenty minutes, but-”

“But he’s working on a goddamn human trafficking ring, and it’s fucking freezing,” Jason finishes. He doesn’t need Dick to explain to him why twenty minutes is suddenly a big deal and not Tim losing track of time. “What about his tracker?”

“He turned it off after his last contact. We’re not sure why, but Oracle is working on pinning down possible locations based on his last. Look, B’s- Anyway, he doesn’t know I’m getting you involved, but you know that side of Gotham better than any of us,” at least on practical experience. Jason has spent months blending into the crowds in the past, as much as he hated every second of it.

“That’s just great, Dickie,” to hell with codenames. And to hell with his helmet. He tugs it off his head and tosses it at the nearest surface. The damn thing doesn’t so much as crack from the impact, but he can breathe again.

For a moment, he forgets that he has a secondary comm in his ear, which is why he flinches when Dick speaks again, “You also know Babybird better than any of us. I was just- hoping, I guess, that you would have a better idea once Oracle came up with her list.”

“Yeah, yeah, send it my way, will you? And his last location. Whatever files the computer has. I want all of it.”

“Done.”

Jason scoops his helmet off the ground and secures it in place again. No time to waste now. He starts shifting through the information the moment Dick sends it over. There are names that he recognizes. Places that he’s been too. Clubs that he’s spent the wee hours of the morning pretending to get plastered in, while flirting with the sort of men he’d happily put a bullet in any other time (for several of them, he had). But none of it tells him where Tim might be now, or why he thought going AWOL was some brilliant idea.

And here’s the thing, Jason’s in the mood he’s in because of this whole human trafficking bullshit. He knows Tim’s been working on it for the last few weeks, though Jason only found out about it in the last couple of days. Probably because Tim’s smart enough to know that Jason doesn’t want any of them so directly involved in that shit, least of all Tim. But there’s no stopping his-- he still doesn’t know when Tim went from ‘the’ to ‘his’-- Replacement when he gets an idea in his head.

It brings Jason no comfort to know that the temperature outside is frigid. He can feel it sink into his bones, despite the warmth of his suit. Technology can only get them so far without impacting agility, and Tim is a lot like Dick in that he likes to fly through the air, unhindered.

Dick passes Oracle’s findings over a few minutes later, when Jason’s already halfway to Tim’s last location. He’s on his bike. Going on foot would take too long, and they’ve already lost-- fuck-shit, thirty-two minutes now.

He tears through all the clubs in the area. Takes out more kneecaps than he has in months, but it doesn’t get him anywhere. The rooftops don’t help either. The advantage is lost when tracking a fellow Bat. Tim moves with purpose, and he does it without leaving a trace.

At least until Jason stumbles into an alley by sheer luck. One that could be in disarray for any reason, but he catches sight of a Batarang. It’s surface glints off the streetlight behind him. There’s no blood. No fibers stuck to it. It looks like it’s been dropped more than thrown, and he doesn’t know what to make of that, but his stomach is turning painfully.

Something is definitely wrong; he just doesn’t know what.

Dick chirps updates in his ear. Brief lines of information; none of it useful. The rest of them are having as much (or less) luck as he is, though he doesn’t immediately report his findings. It could be something; then again, it could be nothing, and they don’t need to all bunge together just to step on each others’ toes with no chance of finding Tim before someone or something gets to him.

The next three alleys look similar to the first in that they could all but in the state that they are because they’re part of the seedier night scene of Gotham, but something about them rings wrong in Jason’s head. There’s a garbage bag that’s strewn across the asphalt, like someone knocked it over rather than it having been pushed or thrown, and eerie signs of a scuffle that don’t look right either. There’s no blood and no sign of reciprocation. Only the snowy remains of a chaotic waltz littered throughout.

And that’s when he all but stumbles into a body. Curled and small with lips that are too close to blue and a face that’s ashen white.

Jason’s on his knees in an instant, calling Tim’s name-- Red? Robin? Drake, he hisses the last one in barely a whisper, but none of them yield results. Tim stays there, unmoving. His chest barely moves, but the bizarre part is how there doesn’t seem to be any injuries besides a trickle of blood that might be coming from Tim’s temple. His suit is otherwise intact, and who would leave a Bat incapacitated without finishing the job? Around here, not a single bastard.

He’s lifting Tim up before he can think to call for help. He carries him back to his bike and manages to maneuver them both onto the seat. He keeps Tim in front of him, awkward as it is, with one arm hooked around the limp body. The only saving grace in the moment is how goddamn small Tim is.

“Nightwing,” he calls as he starts the bike. “Cave, now.” He severs the connection before Dick has a chance to respond.

By the time he gets to the Cave, his heart is pounding away in his chest. Tim still hasn’t woken up. Still hasn’t so much as shifted in his unconscious state, and Jason is getting frantic. More and more terrified with each passing second, and it’s all he can do to keep one foot in front of the other when he pulls to a stop and gets Tim in his arms once again.

The face that greets him isn’t Dick’s, but Bruce’s, and Jason’s too afraid to give a shit. Too out of his depth. He can stitch wounds and even remove bullets, but he doesn’t know what’s wrong with Tim or how to fix it. He’s completely at Bruce’s mercy, and that would ordinarily piss him off, but, right now? He can feel wetness build in his eyes and his voice shakes as he looks at Bruce with desperation.

“Please,” he begs, knowing that he doesn’t have to, but unable to stop himself anyways.

Bruce doesn’t miss a beat. He’s already reaching for Tim, and it feels like someone pulling the rug from underneath Jason’s feet the moment his arms are empty again. There’s nothing keeping him steady, keeping him moving forward. At least not until Bruce glances back over his shoulder and calls,

“Jason.”

Jason scrambles forward, falling in after Bruce, and he feels all of about twelve years old again, following behind the Bat’s massive silhouette without question.

Alfred meets him in the infirmary, and the two make quick work of stripping Tim out of his suit. It would be impressive, considering the security measures, if Jason were able to take the time to appreciate anything, but he’s too wrapped up in his ever growing anxiety. The more skin that becomes visible, the more alarmed they all become. There’s no bruising, no blood. No explanation.

They start him on fluids for lack of anything else to do, and there is a minor contusion on the side of Tim’s head that indicates that he must have hit it at some point, but it's apparent to Jason-- the way it is to Bruce and Alfred-- that the trauma happened as Tim hit the ground and not as the result of someone getting the better of him.

“Oh,” Alfred breathes, and two pairs of blue eyes snap in his direction. He’s holding a strip of paper-- the results of his blood test-- with a frown etched into his features.

Bruce reaches out, and Alfred passes them over wordlessly. He moves around the infirmary in a flurry, gathering supplies with renewed purpose. For some reason, it only makes Jason’s heart beat that much harder in his chest.

“What is it?”

“He’s in DKA.”

“He’s what?”

“Diabetic ketoacidosis. It’s-”

“I know what it is,” Jason says a little too quickly, but he doesn’t understand. Can’t wrap his head around what it means in this particular situation. “He has a pump. You got him a pump.”

“He does, and I did,” Bruce agrees with a grunt. It’s clear that he’s just as lost as Jason, but he doesn’t have the chance to say anything else before Alfred is calling him over, leaving Jason to stew on the information and watch from the sidelines because diabetic complications are definitely outside of his scope of practice.

He feels useless. Beyond, even, and he can’t stop looping back to the pump. That’s the whole reason Tim has it. So he can patrol without complications. He remembers the excitement when Tim first got it. All the information he had to absorb as part of being approved in the first place. He’s been stable on the damn thing for months. So why is his blood sugar through the roof?

It feels like hours until Alfred lets them know that Tim’s responding to treatment-- which includes a complicated setup of three different bags of fluids that Jason couldn’t identify for the life of him-- and beginning to improve. Jason doesn’t know how much time has actually passed, but he’s been in his head the whole of it, replaying the same questions and spiralling down the same, horrific scenarios. His cheeks itch with the feeling of dried tears, though he doesn’t know when he started crying (or when he stopped, for that matter).

He sits beside Tim diligently, despite his exhaustion, and holds his smaller hand in both of his own. It’s the only thing keeping him grounded, especially as everyone else comes and goes. Alfred never goes far, though Bruce disappears entirely to do god knows what. Dick hugs him, but he’s smart enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Damian’s about as comforting as he never is, but the worry is apparent in his eyes, even as he insists that Tim’s situation is more of a nuisance than anything else.

Cass stops by before Stephanie. A quiet presence that actually soothes Jason’s nerves, only to be followed by a quiet that sets them alight. Stephanie is rarely so subdued, but she disappears quickly, evidently unable to handle just standing there. She mutters something about finishing the job. It would concern Jason more if he weren’t already certain that none of them were going to be able to fly under Bruce’s radar for a bit.

Speaking of, Bruce announces his return by not-so-gently placing something on the little metal cart by Tim’s bed. It takes Jason a moment to recognize it as Tim’s pump, though it’s been pulled apart and now sits in multiple pieces.

“What-”

“It froze,” Bruce says before Jason can continue.

“What?” Jason repeats.

They can freeze? Is that something they knew? Why the hell hadn’t Tim taken precautions going out into sub-zero temperatures?

“Not the whole pump. This,” Bruce traces the remains of the clear tubing that typically goes from the pump to the injection point that sits under Tim’s skin. The line, itself, usually sits on Tim’s hip. “The catheter. The vial has enough insulin in it that it would have been fine, if not for this and the weather.”

“Why-?” Jason can’t finish the question. Doesn’t know what he means to ask in the first place, but Bruce doesn’t hesitate to answer,

“He didn’t know. Neither did I, for that matter. It never occurred to any of us.”

Oh.

Jesus.

Tim could have died, and not one of them would have realized why until it was too late.

“From what I can find, it’s not typically a concern,” Bruce goes on, though Jason’s only half listening. He supposes that makes sense, though, considering most people aren’t spending hours in the cold. He wonders how long Tim had been struggling. Alone and dazed and stumbling over his feet. That explains the condition of the alley. There really hadn’t been any fights. Just Tim, grabbing at anything and everything.

“If I had to guess,” and Bruce doesn’t look happy with the idea of not knowing, “He turned his tracker off in confusion.” Possibly while trying to call for help, he doesn’t say, and it makes Jason sick to think about.

“That shouldn’t fucking happen,” Jason snaps, less at Bruce and more at the universe.

“I know,” Bruce answers when the universe remains as silent as ever, “Lucius is working on it now. We’ve already discussed the possibility of adding a second, remotely activated tracker.” All of their trackers can be remotely activated, unless they’re turned off. Having a second just means that they would have a backup should anything happen to the original.

“Good,” Jason says, for lack of anything else to say. He finds some comfort in the idea, but it doesn’t exactly make him feel better now. Particularly not when Tim is without a pump entirely, which means they’re back to constant checks and needle drawn injections, both of which he knows Tim hates. Both of which interfere with Tim’s ability to patrol for any extended period of time.

“Tim will be alright,” Bruce tells him in a tone that’s entirely too gentle to be coming out of his mouth, “Alfred says his numbers are looking better.”

“Yeah,” Jason’s mouth feels dry, and he feels his eyes burning. He works his jaw a few times to try to regain control. He doesn’t need to cry a second time, not when everything’s fine now. Tim will wake up in a bit, probably feeling like shit, but he’ll be alive.

“He’s alright,” Bruce reiterates as he crouches in front of Jason and tugs him forward. Jason doesn’t resist, allows himself to be maneuvered until his head is pressed into Bruce’s shoulder.

Neither move for what seems like an eternity, but Jason finally breaks the contact and wipes as subtly as he can at his eyes while looking Tim over. “He’s going to hate using needles again.”

“He should have a new pump before the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Jason breathes, “He’ll- thanks.”

It doesn’t fix the current problem with the cold, but there are measures they can take against that. Measures that Tim won’t like, but it will be better for him to have his pump so that he doesn’t have to draw up his insulin, which, from what Jason understands, is less accurate than the pump anyways.

Bruce hums his response before opening his mouth to add, “You should go get washed up. Or changed, at least.”

Says the man still wearing his giant Bat suit, but Jason doesn’t feel like starting an argument for no reason when he’s still on edge. “You gonna stay here?”

“Of course. I’ll be here until you get back.”

“Okay,” thank you.

“Take your time,” you’re welcome.

______

By the time Jason showers, changes into some of the clothes kept in the dresser of his old room, and makes it back down to the Cave, Tim is still out, though there’s finally some color in his cheeks. A nice little dusting of pink that makes him look alive, and his lips are slowly beginning to regain some color, too.

“Alfred just came by,” Bruce says when he sees Jason, “He says that Tim should wake up soon.”

“Good,” Jason says, voicing the most subdued version of what’s going on in his head.

After too long, or maybe too short of a pause, Bruce says, “I need to get to work on a few things. Will you be alright?”

Jason has to brush away his immediate irritation (of course Bruce needs to do shit while another one of his kids is recovering from a near death experience; what else would he be doing?) and remind himself that Bruce has spent the better part of the last forty minutes sitting with Tim. That might as well be a lifetime in Bat years. Jason rarely sees Bruce sit still that long without a computer screen reflecting in his eyes.

“Yeah, fine.”

“Call me if you need me.”

“Will do, B,” he probably wouldn’t, but word would get to Bruce eventually.

______

The first time Tim opens his eyes, Jason’s excitement and relief are crushed almost immediately. Tim’s far from his usual self. He’s more out of it than Jason’s ever seen him, with his head lolling back and eyes flickering. What comes out of his mouth is mostly babbled nonsense in between groans.

Jason calls for Alfred immediately, and he’s just this side of his anxiety getting the better of him when Alfred reassures him that the state that Tim is in is to be expected after what his body went through. Besides, his carbon dioxide levels are still low and his blood sugar hasn’t come down very far yet. It’s going to take time for Tim to fully recover, but it’s a lot for Jason to take in all at once.

“Turn ‘ff the lights,” Tim grumbles, startling Jason from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Fuckin’ lights, turn ‘em off.”

Under any other circumstances, the uncharacteristically grumpy demand would have Jason laughing. Right now, it just makes his chest ache.

Alfred dims the lights before speaking, “He may be a bit grouchy.”

Jason lets out a small snort, “Thanks, Alf.”

Alfred offers him a small smile. Evidently pleased that he’s managed to lighten Jason’s mood, even if only a little bit.

“Stop,” Tim groans, causing the two to turn back toward him.

“Sorry,” Jason mutters at the same time that Alfred says, “Apologies, Master Tim.”

Tim huffs at both of them before seemingly drifting off once more.

______

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll call you next time,” Jason grumbles at Bruce’s retreating back. The man is being even more stoic over not being told about Tim’s wake-up, which, to be fair, hadn’t been that remarkable, beyond the amount of stress that it had caused Jason. Besides, if Bruce weren’t so damned busy with whatever it is he’s doing, he might have known that Tim had woken up briefly.

Bruce says nothing as the door closes behind him, apparently aware that Jason is more irritable than usual and unwilling to get into a fight over it.

Jason huffs and sits back in his seat. Part of him wishes Bruce would start something. He’s getting antsy sitting in the Cave this long. Hell, he’s just tired of sitting, but there’s only so much pacing he can do.

“You should be nice,” Tim croaks from his spot in bed, effectively startling the shit out of Jason in the process.

“That was nice, and fuck you,” Jason answers easily, but his heart is bounding away in his chest.

“For which part?”

“All of it, Replacement,” the part where Tim scared the shit out of him and the part where he has the audacity to comment on Jason’s shitty people skills first upon waking up after nearly dying.

“Ouch, I’m back to the Replacement, huh?”

Jason snorts, “You’re damn right. Only a Replacement would pull something like that.”

Tim winces, “Sorry.”

Oh. That’s not fair. The sad look in Tim’s eyes and the pained expression. That’s just plain cheating. “It’s okay,” Jason sighs, “I’m just glad we found you in time.” He doesn’t mention the part where he had been the one to find Tim. Unresponsive and blue in the face. Looking more dead than alive.

“Who?”

“Dickiebird, obviously.” Blue enough.

Tim huffs a small, would-be laugh. It quickly turns into a cough and a groan. “Feels like I got hit by a train.”

“You kinda look like it, too, but I hear that’s just your face.”

Tim blinks at him, slow and owlish, but the joke seems to register after a moment and he shoots Jason a nasty look. “You can leave whenever you want.”

“You’d like that.”

“I really would.”

“Too bad.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“Something fucking stellar: me.”

Tim snorts, but his expression sobers after a moment, “I’m sorry. Really. I- I didn’t know what was happening. I still- did my blood sugar drop?”

“No, the opposite actually.”

“Wait, what?” Tim’s frown deepens and his brows come together, “But-”

“The insulin in the outside part of your pump froze.”

Tim’s hand suddenly reaches for where the pump typically sits. A frantic effort in a tangle of IV tubing that comes up empty. “Where-?”

“Bruce took it. He says you’ll have another one by tomorrow, but I think that one’s pretty shot. He took it apart.”

“Oh,” Tim deflates slightly.

“It almost killed you, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim breathes out. “I know, it’s stupid. Just… Sucks, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Jason answers, for lack of anything else to say. He reaches for one of Tim’s hands and squeezes scarred fingers with his own, calloused pads. “No more patrolling when it’s this cold, I guess.”

“I guess,” Tim echoes, a sign that he doesn’t actually want to agree, but knows that Jason’s right.

Jason squeezes his hand again. This time he gets a gentle squeeze back, which is something of a reassurance. “At least not alone,” he offers after a moment of hesitation. He’s not sure he should give Tim that hope, but he wouldn’t mind company every so often, and the human trafficking shit is something Jason works with on the regular. He can always put aside his more… lethal habits for a bit. There’s nothing stopping him from hunting down names in the future and taking care of business when Tim’s not looking. It’s not as if Tim doesn’t already know what Jason gets up to in his spare time.

“You- really?”

“Really. I’ve worked with a team before.”

“Doesn’t mean that you’d want to now,” Tim points out with a frown.

“It’s you,” it’s different. Maybe Jason will learn how to say half the things he means aloud, but he finds he doesn’t usually have to. Not with Tim, the little deductive prodigy that he is.

“Okay,” Tim smiles at him. A weak, shaky thing, but it’s there, and Jason smiles back.

______

Bruce steps into the infirmary with that usual, severe expression on his face that doesn’t give much away. He’s holding a small box with absolutely no markings on it, and he passes it to Tim wordlessly.

“What’s this?” Tim asks with his brows knitted together, but he doesn’t actually expect an answer. Instead, he opens the box up carefully and finds a new pump sitting inside.

“Freezing won’t be an issue,” Bruce explains before Tim can ask about the lack of a visible catheter. “It’s a single unit. No external catheter, and there’s a warming component that automatically runs under certain conditions to keep the insulin at the ideal temperature.”

“Oh,” Tim breathes, eyes widening as he processes the words. “You-”

“Lucius helped,” Bruce answers with a half shrug and eyes that stay focused on the thing in Tim’s hands rather than the wonder in his son’s eyes.

“Thank you.”

The corners of Bruce’s mouth tug upward before he can stop them, “We just want you safe.”

“Still, thank you.”

Bruce is quiet for a moment, before he says, “Anytime, Tim.”