#feel free to message me about comms even before that too

[fishsticxz-art]

im moving in a few days and gonna have to buy some stuff for the new house and also i have to get a new computer soon because my laptop battery has started failing (its 7 years old) and a new external hard drive because. i have one but its the only place i store my files and if it fails basically all my art is gone SO i'll make a new comm info post soonish after the move, posting this to make myself STOP PROCRASTINATING ON IT ive been meaning to make a proper comm info sheet for like a YEAR at least. also i encourage people to buy the splatoon emotes or other stuff or just drop me a few dollars on my ko-fi if you wanna be super nice to me thank you :teehee: (imagine that pink splatoon emote from my pack here)

[listentothelittlebird]

so I have been avidly following the lovely dbhc au that @shepscapades has made and I have made a little drabble fanfic of Doc and Xisuma because I feel very normal about them :)

setting: hermitcraft season 10, while Doc is in skyblock jail

word count: 1361

-

Doc is grumbling to himself, ramming his fist into the newly-sprouted tree with not an insignificant amount of prejudice, when he hears the distinct whistling of fireworks crescendoing towards him.

“Have you come to watch me punch wood like an imbecile?” Doc snarks, expecting to hear Scar’s fumbling denials, or Cleo’s cackling assent.

“That wasn’t the plan, no.” The quietly amused voice is far from his first prediction. An oversight on his part, really.

[Vocal Recognition: Xisumavoid.]

“Xisuma!” Doc’s next punch misses the trunk of the cherry blossom tree, glancing off the side and chipping off the bark instead. He blinks away the vocal recognition pop-up, glancing behind him just to check it really is him and not Tango with a goat horn. “Hey, man!”

“Hey! You’ve been busy.” Xisuma’s boots scuff against the cobblestone as he inspects the progress of his miserable sky island. A shulker box thunks onto the stone, freeing his hands up to brush against the cherry wood planks.

“Hardly anything else to do besides work.” Doc throws the words over his shoulder as he continues to gather his cherry wood, not one to leave a project half-done. 

His visitor is content to hum and haw at whatever he finds as Doc works away. It has only been a few days, but the one-sided commentary is surprisingly comforting. After all, no touching the ground means no redstone, which also means no time in the lab. The thought has Doc speaking up, slipping between Xisuma’s quips.

“It’s not been too busy, yeah?” Doc clambers onto the tree as he plucks off the highest branches. He pauses to flick open a calendar overlay, skimming the dates. “Nobody’s scheduled for maintenance checks until next month.” 

“It’s been alright.” The fuzzy wolf-shaped wool mask pops into view as Xisuma emerges from Doc’s pink abode. “Been a bit too quiet, even. It’s weird not having you around.”

Doc snorts to hide the way his thirium pump hiccups at the words. Logically, he knows the sound is far too soft for Xisuma to hear. Having emotions, Doc has found, is hardly ever logical.

“So you came over ‘cause you missed me?” The words are out before Doc can even try to edit the response. It instills in him the same kind of floundering exasperation he feels when trying to recall a comms message already seen by everyone.

“Well.” When Xisuma ducks his head, one ear of the knitted wolf flops to the side. “I mean. I suppose so.”

[Emotion Identified: Shyness.]

“But I did come with an agenda!” Xisuma reaches for the shulker behind him, pulling out a mobile scanner from the lab.

“You’re right about having no maintenance checks on the schedule,” Xisuma says, waving around the scanner. “With you out here roughing it out, though, I figured I should check on you.”

“Ah.” Doc chuckles, ignores his cooling vents spinning faster. “I see.”

“Well, don’t keep me waiting! You look about done with your tree.” 

“I am, I think.” Doc squints through the already-thinning leaves, nodding when he finds no branches left. “Alright, one moment.”

Dismantling the remains of the trunk takes only a few seconds. Doc gathers the wood and plonks them into the chest in his shabby house, with Xisuma trailing behind. 

With two people inside, it only reminds Doc how small the shelter is. Turning around after closing his chest puts him directly in Xisuma’s space.

“So, uh.” Doc shifts back, as much as he can. He ends up plopping down on the edge of his bed, which, well. “Go ahead, then.” 

A check-up does not require much space, really. Doc has done maintenance with the hermits in caves, in redstone farms, in underwater bases and nether bases. This is just the first time Doc himself has been examined outside of the yawning expanse of their labs. The change in routine leaves him uncertain, like recalibrating on angled terrain. 

The ease that Xisuma slips into the motions does well to settle Doc’s stress, however mild. The mobile scanner takes a while to gather results, so Doc answers Xisuma’s laundry list of questions. The list of questions is one curated by both Doc and Xisuma. Most of it is data, which Doc rattles off easily from the numbers that he pulls up in the corner of his vision.

The mobile scanner beeps cheerfully just as they reach the end of the lengthy questionnaire.

“Clean bill of health.” Xisuma shows Doc the display, which focuses less on internal processes and more on external damage or abnormalities. “Although, your average temperature is a bit lower than your usual.”

Doc shrugs. “It’s the altitude, man. Going from spending significant amounts of my time in the deserts and swamps to this is quite the change. Not to mention the wind chill.” 

As if to prove his point, a gust hits the shelter hard enough to make the planks rattle and creak. With no door, the icy breeze rushes in quickly. He tucks his metal arm into his lab coat with a sigh, the exposed components always prone to freezing the fastest.

“It’s not that bad,” Doc states flippantly, knowing without looking that Xisuma is taking in his every move. “I’m working most of the time, which keeps me warm. Plus I have my lava pool to sit beside when I need to warm up.”

“If you say so.” Xisuma shifts, leaning against his crafting bench. “The moment you start to experience temperature glitches, though, call this off. The rest will understand.”

“I know, I know.” This is all in good fun, when it comes down to it. He plays along for his own amusement. “I’ll be fine, Xisuma. I know how to take care of myself.”

“That you do.” Xisuma nods, then, with an “ah” of realisation, pulls his wolf mask off his helmet. 

“Here!” It only takes a step for Xisuma to be back in Doc’s space, pulling the wool over Doc’s head before he can react. 

“Uhm.” The mask is large enough that it goes over his horns easily, fitting loosely around his face. He has to lift and adjust it slightly to get his eyes back through the openings. “What?”

“To keep you warm!” Xisuma draws back again, settling against the crafting bench and tapping his heel against its side. “I mean, even over my helmet, it sure retains the heat. I know it doesn’t quite help with your metal arm, but it’ll at least warm up your horns and face.”

Doc does feel warmer, in fact. Though that is not necessarily correlated with the wool mask itself, and more the action of gifting it to him.

“But it’s your mask,” Doc replies, a flimsy rebuttal. “For your Woolves of Wool Street.”

“I have spares,” Xisuma chimes, eyes squinting happily through his helmet. “I’m sure the others won’t mind if you’re wearing it. Take it as a souvenir, of sorts.”

“Right.” Doc reaches a hand up to the wool. The material is soft, slightly worn from use. It smells a bit like Xisuma’s armour, the polish that he uses to clean it at the end of the day. “Thanks.”

“No problem, Doc.” 

Xisuma’s communicator chimes. A quick look has Xisuma turning back to Doc with an apologetic sigh. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. I’ll come back soon, though, if you don’t mind?”

“Come back anytime,” Doc replies. He tries to reel it towards comedy with a gesture to his surroundings, his meager belongings. “You won’t be interrupting anything.”

The dry quip draws out a laugh from Xisuma, even as he gathers his shulker and activates his elytra.

“See you, Doc!” Xisuma waves from the edge of the cobblestone, then nosedives away, a rocket propelling him rapidly out of sight. 

Doc takes a moment to watch the clouds, then laughs at himself. Did he not poke fun at Tango last season, when he stared longingly at the portal Jimmy left the server with? Now look at him.  

He draws a hand up to the wolf mask, rubbing the soft knitting between his fingers, and decides that Tango absolutely cannot see him wearing this.

He can keep it on for now, though.

[tinynerdz360]

Future Ghost chapter 6

Danny, in short, was screwed. He stared down at his communicator message. His hack job into his medical files didn’t fool the CMO. Dr. Mccoy was demanding he report immediately to sickbay.

Danny felt almost sick to his stomach…. he couldn’t do this. Maybe if he pretended, he never saw the message, he could avoid this until he had some sort of plan. On one hand, he could just try to overshadow the doctor and make up his medical data that way.

But the idea of overshadowing ----basically possessing anyone on the ship, didn’t sit right with Danny. A huge part of him felt like that would blow up in his face if he were discovered. Nobody liked the idea of something being able to take away one’s free will.

Danny knew that it was probably just a matter of time before something happened where the truth would have to come to light, but he couldn’t bring himself to face it. He felt too scared. How could he ever begin to explain? He never had to explain it to someone before.

Danny wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. To distract himself from his anxiety and fear, he ignored the message and headed to engineering. Maybe getting some work done would help calm his nerves.

*****

"Ensign Fenton!" Scotty's voice rang out across the engineering deck as Danny tried to slip quietly to his station. "A word in my office, lad."

Danny's heart sank. He reluctantly followed Scotty into his office, the door hissing shut behind them. Scotty gestured for Danny to take a seat and leaned back against his desk, arms crossed.

"I just got off the comm with Dr. McCoy," Scotty began, a hint of amusement in his voice. "He sounded mad as a hornet. What did ye do to get under the good doctor's skin?"

Danny shifted uncomfortably. "I... I might have missed a medical appointment."

"Aye, that'll do it." Scotty chuckled. "Listen, lad, I don't know what transpired between you two, but the doc's just lookin' out for your well-being. He's got the crew's best interests at heart, even when he's spittin' fire."

Danny nodded; his gaze fixed on the floor. *I can't let them find out. They'll kick me off the ship for sure. *

Scotty's expression softened as he noticed Danny's nervousness. "I know nobody likes gettin' poked and prodded, but these check-ups are necessary. It's part of keepin' a healthy crew, and it's regulation."

"I understand, sir." Danny's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Medical needs to keep proper records on everyone, Ensign. It's for your own safety and the safety of the crew. We can't have you workin' if you're not fit for duty."

Danny's mind raced. *I have to come up with an excuse. Something believable. * "I... I'm just not comfortable with doctors, sir. Bad experiences in the past."

Scotty nodded sympathetically, his eyes drawn to Danny’s electrical scares and Lichtenberg figures that adorned his wrist all the way up his arm; Scotty always wondered why the lad didn’t get dermal treatment for those. "Aye, I can understand that. But Dr. McCoy's a professional. He'll take good care of you."

*If only it were that simple. * Danny thought, his stomach twisting into knots.

"I'm afraid I can't let you back on shift until you've gotten a clean bill of health from sickbay," Scotty continued. "Them's the rules, lad. I'm sure whatever's got you worried, Dr. McCoy will handle it with discretion."

Danny forced a smile, knowing he had no choice. "Yes, sir. I'll head to sickbay right away."

Scotty clapped him on the shoulder as he stood. "That's the spirit, laddie. Remember, Dr. McCoy's bark is worse than his bite. He's just lookin' out for you."

As Danny left Scotty's office, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in his chest. *I’m not ready…... I don’t know if I can do this.*

Danny walked through the corridors of the Enterprise, his mind consumed with worry. *What if they find out I'm half-ghost? What if they realize I've been lying about my age? * The thought made his palms sweat.

Lost in thought, he nearly collided with a crewman carrying a stack of PADDs. "Sorry," Danny mumbled, sidestepping the officer.

*I need to calm down, * he told himself, taking a deep breath. *Panicking won't help. *

Danny's heart raced as he approached the doors to the sickbay. He hesitated, just out of the door scanner to grant entry. *I can't do this, * he thought, panic rising in his chest. *They'll never accept me. *

He stepped back, running a hand through his messy black hair. *Scotty said I can't return to duty until I get cleared by Dr. McCoy, but...* Danny glanced around, making sure he was alone. *Maybe I can just hide out for a while, pretend I went to the checkup. *

Danny turned on his heel and hurried away from sickbay, his mind racing. He couldn't risk exposure and couldn't bear the thought of being sent away, hunted, or experimented on.

As he walked, he tried to come up with a plan. *I just need some time…...I need somewhere to clear my head. *

An idea slowly formed in Danny’s mind. *That will help…...* With a new purpose in his step. Danny set forth to his new destination.

**** Danny's breath misted the visor of the space suit as he fiddled with the tether, securing it to his belt. The vastness of space beckoned him, an ocean of darkness speckled with distant suns. His heart raced with the thought of what he was about to do—no one had ever tried to swim in the void as a ghost. But his core sang with happiness, and he felt his space obsession delight in what he was doing. He felt his worry and fear melt away. He felt happy and full.

"Okay, Fenton," he muttered to himself, checking the seals on his suit one last time. "Time to see what you're really made of."  Danny allowed his ghost side to wash over his human form. Triggering his transformation into Phantom. Before doing this, he had made sure to mess with the security footage in this room.

He hesitated at the airlock door, but with a deep breath he didn’t need, he turned his body intangible and phased through the door. No need to alert anyone to his presence by triggering an alarm with the opening of the airlock door.

"Here goes nothing." With those words, he floated out. His legs merge into this ghostly tail. He felt the light as a feather. His ghost side gave a sigh of relief. It felt like he could finally stretch his legs after being cramped for so long. Before really getting into his space swim. He made sure to latch his tether to the handle on the ship's side. The last thing he wanted was to get stranded out in space. For the starship to leave him behind. Danny did not want to imagine getting lost in space. He was unsure how long he would last or if it would lead to a second death for him.

He pushed off into the nothingness, the tether his only lifeline to reality.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed as he floated away from the ship, his ghostly form shimmering like a mirage. Danny looked down at his hands, now translucent and glowing with an eerie light, and then up at the stars. They seemed so close he could almost touch them.

The silence of space was profound, but Danny's excitement filled the void. He twirled and dove, the tether spiraling out behind him. For a moment, he forgot about sick bay, McCoy's relentless pursuit, and the hunger that gnawed at him endlessly. Danny had found that he was also struggling to have a proper diet. It was so hard to balance his ghostly and human needs. It felt like his ghostly side was slowly starving. Danny felt like it was the lack of ectoplasm to eat. Which meant he had to work harder to feed his obsessions and eat more in his human form. But it was harder to get approved for more in his meal plan. And it would set off red flags with the amount he would need to eat.

*I’ll be fine; I’ve survived worse……. * Danny reassured himself.

He spun around, taking in the panoramic view of the universe that sprawled before him, a frontier vaster than any sea. The stars twinkled each one a secret, each one a story waiting to be told. Danny let himself relax and his thoughts quiet down.

With a contented sigh, he reeled himself in, the tether guiding him back to the ship. Once inside, Danny phased back into his human form.

As relaxing as that was, it did help calm his nerves. Danny still couldn’t make himself go to sickbay. *I need more time……I guess I better find another distraction. *

*****

"Dammit, where is that boy?" Dr. McCoy grumbled under his breath as he navigated the labyrinthine corridors of the ship. The Ensign had managed to avoid him for three days now. Scotty offered to enact disciplinary action if this continued but also shared with Mccoy how nervous the boy seemed. Mccoy had declined, saying they could chew the ensign out once he dragged him to sickbay.

At this point, McCoy took this whole thing as a challenge. He would drag that boy into sick bay by the scruff of his neck if he had to. This also confirmed to Mccoy that the ensign was hiding something. And likely violated multiple Starfleet regulations. The only reason McCoy didn’t just wash his hands of it and bring this to Jim and court Marshall the kid was because something in his gut told him to handle this personally first, and the kid hadn’t done anything maliciously.

Mccoy mumbled to himself, "That kid's dodging me like I'm a rogue comet."

Currently, Mccoy is heading to the mess hall. The last location the computer listed the ensign to be. It was driving Mccoy up the wall that the computer kept malfunctioning as well when asked about the ensign. It also puzzled Mccoy how Fenton’s been able to slip out without him noticing, especially in places with only one exit. Mccoy tried really hard not to be impressed by that. He would not be outdone. Also, Jim would never let him live it down that he let an ensign pull one over him.

***

"Checkmate in four moves, Danny," Tina declared with a triumphant smirk, sliding her knight across the chessboard.

"Are you sure?" Danny quipped, hovering his hand over a bishop as he scrutinized the board. "Because I think you missed—"

"Missed nothing," Tina interjected with confidence. "I've seen Chekov play; trust me, I've learned from the best."

He chuckled and leaned back in his chair, exaggerating his bow as he conceded the game. "Alright, alright, Yeoman Lawton, I yield to your superior strategy."

"Better luck next time," she said, beginning to reset the pieces for another round.

"Actually, Danny," Ensign Kas Th'qaakress interrupted, her antennae twitching with concern, "I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Sure, what's up?" Danny asked, turning towards the Andorian ensign, hoping to steer away from any serious topics.

"It's about sick bay," Kas began hesitantly. "Dr. McCoy is really worried about you. You've been dodging him for days now.”

"Is he?" Danny feigned surprise, knowing full well the cat-and-mouse game he'd been playing with the doctor. "I'm just not a fan of sick bays, that's all."

"Look, I get it," Kas reassured him with a gentle smile. "But he's only trying to help. And between us, you're driving him a little insane, which, as my boss, makes my life harder."

"Me? Drive someone insane?" He tried to keep his tone light, but a flicker of guilt was behind his eyes.

"Ha, yes, you," Kas replied with a soft laugh. "He really cares, you know. Despite the gruff exterior, Dr. McCoy is one of the kindest souls on this ship. And, well, if you're scared, I can go with you. Moral support and all that."

"Actually, I've always had this... phobia of sick bays," Danny stammered, watching Kas's antennae twitch ever so slightly—a sign, he'd learned, of her concern or curiosity. "Sterile rooms, weird smells, it just freaks me out."

"Phobia?" Kas tilted her head, her blue skin catching the light from the overhead lamps. "You know, phobias can be treated in sickbay—"

"Which is ironic, isn't it?" Danny cut in with a nervous chuckle.

"Listen," Kas leaned in, her voice low and earnest. “You could get into a lot of trouble if you keep doing this…... I don’t want to see you get in that kind of trouble. You’re really pushing McCoy’s buttons here, and he’s giving you a lot of chances here. Can you at least think about going in today? Like I said, I’ll go with you.”

"Thanks, Kas," Danny said, a genuine smile touching his lips. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"Promise?" she pressed, her black eyes locking onto his.

"I’ll try," he replied, but he couldn’t see himself walking into sickbay by himself.

Before Kas could reply, Daryl Mcdonnell approached their table with a half-eaten plate of food. "Mind if I join you guys for a bit?" He asked, already sitting down.

"Of course, Don," Danny replied, scooting over to make room.

Kas greeted Darlyn with a bright smile, and they quickly fell into conversation about the latest scientific readings from the ship's scanners. Danny joined where he could, but his gaze drifted to the untouched portion of Daryl's meal. He felt the gnawing hunger inside him intensify—his ghost half was hungrier than he'd anticipated today.

"Hey, kid," Daryl suddenly said, pushing his plate toward Danny. "I'm not going to finish this. Why don't you help yourself?"

Danny hesitated, knowing full well that eating too much would raise questions he wasn't ready to answer. But the instinctual pull was too strong, and he found himself nodding gratefully. "Thanks. I'm actually really hungry today."

Daryl hummed in response and then said, "I missed you in Engineering these past couple of days. Have you settled that issue with sickbay yet?"

As Danny ate, the relief of satiating his hunger was overshadowed by the sharp spike of anxiety at Daryl’s question.

“What? How do you know about that? OMG, how many people know about that?” Danny stared in dawning horror, thinking the whole ship might be aware of his avoidance of sickbay.

“Well, I don’t know how many people know, per se; engineering knows, probably all of medical…. I will say this is really feeding the rumor mill.” Daryl remarked.

“WHAT!? Rumor mill……what do you mean?” Danny stuttered with clear panic in his voice.

“Hey easy there, it’s nothing bad…...Look kid, we’re all stuck on this ship in the middle of nowhere, there are rumors for everyone and…...gossip and news travels fast.”

Before Danny could give a snarky remark or demand answers in a calm, totally not panicked way. He stiffened. He felt the familiar presence of the ship's CMO. Over the past few days, Danny has been honing his ghost senses to pick up on Dr. Mccoy’s essence and emotional output. This had given him the time to run away.

“I…...never mind…...I’ll be right back.” With that, Danny hastily got up and moved quickly to the replicators. He couldn’t go to the exit, the doctor felt close, and there wouldn’t be enough time to turn invisible without being spotted. In panic, Danny crawled under the nearest table. He couldn’t afford to worry about how many people may have witnessed him hide under a mass hall table like a weirdo.

Kas shifted uneasily. She'd glimpsed Danny diving under a table across the room seconds before Dr. McCoy strode in, brow furrowed and mouth a grim line.

McCoy halted at their table. "Any of you seen Ensign Fenton?" His glare could melt hull plating.

Tina and Daryl exchanged glances. Kas bit her lip. She couldn't lie to McCoy. But Danny was avoiding sickbay for a reason...

McCoy's eyes narrowed. "Well?"

Kas's antennae twitched. She had to say something. Slowly, she pointed to the table. McCoy raised an eyebrow.

"He's under there," Kas mouthed.

Daryl shot her a look. Tina scowled.

Kas's stomach knotted with guilt and worry. *What was Danny hiding? He needed help, even if he refused to admit it. *

Danny held his breath under the table, invisible. His heart hammered against his ribs. McCoy knew.

McCoy stomped over to the table, his face like a thundercloud. "Ensign Fenton!" he barked. "If you think hiding under there will work, you've got another thing coming!"

Danny flinched at the fury in McCoy's voice. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"If I have to bend down and drag you out myself, there will be hell to pay!" McCoy growled. "I'll make sure your physical is extra unpleasant!"

Danny hugged his knees tighter to his chest. Maybe if he stayed perfectly still...

McCoy's foot tapped an impatient rhythm. "I'm counting to three, Ensign. One..."

Danny squeezed his eyes shut.

"Two..."

His muscles tensed, ready to bolt.

"Three!" McCoy dropped to his knees and ducked his head under the table. "All right, you little--"

He froze. Blinked. Staring at the empty space.

Danny held his breath, invisible, hardly daring to move.

Slowly, McCoy straightened up. He whirled to face Kas, eyes blazing. "Well?" he demanded.

Kas's antennae quivered. "I swear, Doctor, he went under there! I saw him!"

"It's true," Daryl chimed in. "Impressive, really. Kid gave us the slip."

McCoy's jaw clenched. He clearly didn't believe them.

Whipping out his communicator, McCoy snapped, "Computer, locate Ensign Fenton."

"Ensign Fenton is in the Mess Hall," the computer replied.

McCoy threw up his hands. "Blasted useless technology! Been on the fritz all week." He looked back at Daryl and Kas; Mccoy took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. He did a quick count to ten, calming his temper. “If you see him, please tell him to go to sickbay.”

As McCoy stormed out, Danny let out a shaky breath. That was close. Too close.

He couldn't keep this up forever. Sooner or later, his secret would come out.

He just needed a little more time.

Hours ticked by. The Mess Hall gradually emptied out as crewmembers finished their meals and headed off to their duties or leisure activities.

Danny remained hidden, invisible, under the table. His legs were starting to cramp, but he didn't dare move.

Where could he go? His quarters weren't safe. McCoy might come looking for him there.

And then there was Weston. Danny's roommate had been suspicious from the start, always watching him, asking probing questions Danny couldn't answer.

"You're not human," Weston had accused last night, eyes narrowed. "I don't know what you are, but I will find out. And when I do..."

He'd left the threat hanging, but the message was clear: If Weston discovered the truth, it wouldn't end well for Danny.

Danny shivered, hugging himself tighter.

****

"I'm tellin' ya, the lad's been avoidin' me like the plague," Dr. McCoy grumbled, pacing in Scotty's office. "It's been days now, and he still hasn't shown up for his medical clearance. Can't let him back on duty 'til I give the okay."

Scotty leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Aye, the wee ensign hasn't been any trouble in Engineering though. He seems to look up to me as his commanding officer. Tell ya what, Doctor—I'll comm the lad and have him report to my office. You can be waitin' here for him."

McCoy stopped pacing and fixed Scotty with a shrewd look. "And if he still refuses the exam after that?"

"Then we take it to the Captain," Scotty said firmly. "The boy has to follow orders or face disciplinary action, maybe even court-martial, for violatin' Starfleet regs. But let's give him one more chance to come 'round on his own first, eh?"

McCoy nodded slowly. "Alright, one more chance. But I've got a funny feeling about this one, Scotty. Kid's hidin' something; I can feel it in my bones. And I aim to find out what..."

Meanwhile, Danny hurried down the corridor toward Engineering, his heart thudding in his chest. The message from Mr. Scott had sounded urgent—his boss wanted to see him in his office right away. Danny knew it had to be about him avoiding his medical exam...

Danny froze, heart leaping into his throat as he sensed a familiar presence inside Engineering. Dr. McCoy was in there waiting for him. This whole thing had been a trap!

His hands shook as he stared at the closed doors, mind racing for an escape.

Danny nearly jumped out of his skin when a large hand landed on his shoulder. He spun around to find Lt. McDonnell looking down at him, brows knitted with concern.

"Easy there, lad. You alright?" the older man asked. "Looking a mite peaky, if you ask me."

"I-I'm fine," Danny stammered, trying for a smile that felt more like a grimace. "Just heading to see Mr. Scott about...about a project."

Daryl's eyes narrowed. "This wouldn't have anything to do with you dodging your physical, now, would it? Because the CMO is madder than a wet hen over in there."

Danny blanched, mouth opening and closing like a landed fish. "W-what? No! I mean, maybe? I was gonna go, I swear, but I... I got busy?"

The engineer sighed, shaking his head. "Look, I can go in there with you if you need moral support. But you gotta stop running from this, Danny. It's not gonna end well."

Danny looked away, feeling his face heat.

"Is it 'cause you lied about your age, son?" Daryl asked quietly.

Danny's head snapped up, eyes wide with shock and fear. He stared at the lieutenant; mouth suddenly bone dry. After a long moment, he managed a shaky nod.

Daryl huffed, muttering something that sounded like "I knew it" under his breath. He fixed Danny with a sympathetic look.

"I get it, lad. You're scared. But this stuff...it can't stay secret forever. And trust me, the brass? They're a decent bunch. They won't just kick you to the curb the first chance they get."

The older man gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We take care of our own here, Danny. No matter what. You hear me?"

Danny swallowed hard, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. He wasn't used to people actually giving a damn about him. Maybe...maybe it would be okay? If Daryl said, he could trust them...

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Danny squared his shoulders and hit the door control.

Here goes nothing...

Danny barely had time to process Scotty's disappointed frown before Dr. McCoy descended on him like an avenging angel.

"And just where the hell have you been, Ensign?" the doctor growled, already waving his tricorder over Danny's tense form. "I've been trying to track you down for days! You can't just skip out on mandatory physicals, kid. It's against reg-"

McCoy trailed off abruptly, his scowl deepening as he glared at the tricorder readings. He gave it a sharp smack as if that would change the impossible data scrolling across the screen.

Danny's heart hammered against his ribs. Oh god, this was it. McCoy knew. Any second now, he would start demanding answers Danny couldn't give. He'd be kicked out of Starfleet, shipped back to…...who knows where…. what if they just tossed him on a random planet…. deeming him a danger to the crew?

Danny sucked in a shuddery breath; his traitorous eyes kept darting to the door. If he could make a run for it...

Strong fingers wrapped around his upper arm in an unbreakable grip. Danny flinched, head jerking up to meet McCoy's piercing gaze.

"Oh no, you don't," the doctor said, his voice low and intense. "I know that look, Ensign. You even think about rabbiting on me, and I'll have you in restraints before you can blink."

Danny blanched, knees going weak. McCoy must have felt him wobble because his other hand came up to steady him, and his hand on his arm was gentle, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into Danny's bicep.

"Aw hell, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you," he sighed, the fire bleeding out of his tone. "I just want to help. But I can't do that if you keep running from me."

Danny bit his lip, blinking hard against the sudden sting of tears. He was so tired of running, of hiding. Maybe...maybe it was time to stop. But how would he explain any of this?

"I’m sorry," he whispered, his voice small and shaky. "I... I’ll go with you. To sickbay. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble….”

McCoy's face softened, relief etched into the lines around his eyes. "That's all I ask, son. Come on, then. Let's get you checked out properly."

As McCoy led him out of Scotty's office, one strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, Danny was lost in his own mind. He felt weak and scared. What if they hated him, or what if he was too much of a freak? Where would he even start? Would they even believe him? Lost in thought, Danny didn’t notice that he was leaning into Mccoy and the support his hold provided.

Chapter 7

[chaoticcutiewhirl]

New Intro 3.0

We have been putting this off for a long while now but now its time to do this, and simply to say, we are a plural system that uses the collective name of "The Whirl Production House", Ava, or Whirl, and if you know us you know there is a tendency for us to be quite nerdy or atleast a collection of dorks obessed with more artistic endeavors. If you want to find us elsewhere here is our linktree:

Also before you look, to note is that we do have commissions, and before the link tree here is the comms sheet and feel free to message me if you want to possible support a disabled Transwoman

And beyond this it should be noted we are mostly a grouping of differing levels of otherkin sort of deals ranging between those of us who are fictives to those who are kins with very little shifting beyond that if at all. Mentioning that we should probably shift into introductions of individual members of our collective. I will say individual members because we are more so at the multiple end of the plural spectrum of things where its kinda easy to tell there are several of us up here, without bleed-through unless we are feeling blendy/foggy on who is fronting.

Also something to note, we gernally do not fall into Plural related labels and are still early in the processes of System stuff even though its been a few months since syscovery. Part of the reason is because the only ones of us that care about assigning labels feel we do not know enough to label everything, only using labels we do have an idea of working as apart of our system. Will those labels be disclosed? Not in this post atleast.

A Quick Rundown

We are the Whirl Production House system or Whirlproductions, a system to which is still figuring shit out who has an open mind to things so to get syscourse out of the way we are Pro Endo. I will say I am not afraid of blocking people as we generally do not care what you think but if you are annoying there is a way to make you shut up on our feed or notifs. Beyond that we generally face things with caution and are still learning about many things, we have a few ideas on who is what kind of roles but I will not share them and for origins I will say its either unknown or a mixture of several probably, with stress being a detriment at times and is part of the reason why we are not out publically about the Trans stuff alone IRL. We stress easily and have chronic illness (Some form of lung related thing as well as Fatigue) so if we are slow on the uptick please keep that in mind.

Headmates

Sylvia

Art by @/BunBunTushie on Twitter

Name: Sylvia S. / Sylvia Drake

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Demisexual-Lesbian

Kins: Mojave Sidewinder Rattlesnake, Sylvia Drake [Mice Tea]

Noting about Kins for Sylvia is that both are practically just who she is, as there are very few shifts out and when there is, it usually during hours of blurriness or questioning that leads to her questioning more of who she is, but being Sylvia Drake is basically the summary of her being

Age: Early to Mid-20s (Bodily we are 20 tho)

Likes: Writing, Looking at pretty art, doing research, music, Science Fiction (There is a lot), Westerns, TTRPGs, and Entertaining others

Dislikes: All Medical situations, Stress, People our body is related too by blood for the most part, Getting Yelled at, How the US Schooling system is set up

Tag: 🐍 Sylvia

Lucinda

Art by @observerkaine (Found you >:3)

Name: Lucinda

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Kins: Desert Hare, maybe Burnice White (ZZZ)

Age: Early 20s (Most coincides with the body's Age)

Likes: Art, Talking, Silly demeanors, Comedy, and Color theory

Dislikes: Loud noises, too many things to do, Time, and those who domineer a situation without consideration for others whether its through emotional or physical means, Awkward silence

Tag: 🌵Lucinda

Rowan

Art by @guacheenim (Oh Hey you are on here, hiya again.)

Name: Rowan

Pronouns: She/They/Xe

Sexuality: Asexual

Kins: Spider (Unspecified), Drider/Rachnae-like creatures

Age: Range of around the 30s

Likes: Quietness, Reading, Baking, Solitude, Safety and relaxation for all of us

Dislikes: Percieved threats, Stressors, People getting hurt, feeling useless

Tag: 🕸️Rowan

Kade

Art by @/D3monicY33n on Twitter

Name: Kade

Pronouns: He/She/They (Genderfluid)

Sexuality: Likes men and sometimes butch women

Kins: Carpet Shark

Age: Early 20s (Unconfirmed but lines up most with Lucinda in matching the Body

Likes: Being flamboyant, Piercings, Punk Subculture related music, 18+ stuff is especially tied to them

Dislikes: Feeling restricted, Fronting (Could be related to the first part),

Tag: 🦈Kade

Avarstia

Art by us... (May be replaced by digital art at some point tho lol)

Name: Avarstia Furhenbrook

Pronouns: She/Her

Sexuality: Lesbian

Kins*: Not actually a kin, she is a fictive of an OC we have of the same name and is legitimately said character and has helped greatly write the books she is involved with. In other words she is a Half-Demon, Goddess of Death, Winter, and Time who just somehow ended up here

Age: Given what is said above would it be surprising to say she is somewhere in her 700s on the mental side

Likes: Reading, Talking, Philosophy, Thought Expirementation, Writing, Observing, Storytelling

Dislikes: TTRPGs (She finds them boring), Menial tasks, Repetition, Staying in a single place for too long, Ideas of immortality or preventing decay,

Tag: 💀Avarstia

Fionn / Yang Xiao Long

Official Render from the Volume 8 episode of RWBY, "Refuge" (Will say there is divergence from canon in how she looks however)

Name: Yang Xiao Long

Aliases: Fionn

Pronouns: She/They

Sexuality: Lesbian

Kins*: Again as the shift with Avarstia shows, she is again falls under the aspect of being a Fictive in our system, she diverges from canon in the aspect that she is atleast blind in one eye in headspace as well as having a couple of Faunus features being her ears and tail, being a sort of draconic Faunus. Also Dragon Kin

Age: Early to mid 20s (Notably younger than Sylvia when we feel numbers are accurate)

Likes: Engineering, mechanics, learning about weapons and historical combat, comedy, Energetic music (Mostly rock and punk), helping others in any sense really

Dislikes: Feeling powerless, being Frontstuck (Its been almost 800 days by the time of drafting this), Biological family, others feeling bad, being objectified.

Tag: 🐲 Yang / Fionn

�� is also sometimes used as apart of her tag

Dendro

Art by Miranda Mundt, within the webtoon "Muted" (Again may update this when we have art on hand that is more to our preference)

Name: Dendrobrium, Dendro

Alias: Delphi

Pronouns: She/It

Sexuality: Demisexual-Lesbian

Kins*: She is again a Fictive of the character of Dendro from the webtoon Muted, with the main change between her appearance there and what is in our headspace being that she is more of a combination of Desert flora

Age: 300s, again like Avarstia she is a bit older but Dendro did mention it is an estimate given the time difference between Trea and Earth, but will say in source that is not a detail stated.

Likes: Plants, Gardening, Staying Healthy, existing beyond the confines of the place we live, being around people, learning

Dislikes: The body's Chronic Illness, the Desert Heat, and generally the urban areas of Arizona being the way they are.

Tag: 🌸 Dendro

Ceroba Ketsukane

Art by us but will note you can find Ceroba when she uses Tumblr on @kitsunetragedy

Name: Ceroba Ketsukane

Pronouns: She/her

Sexuality: Bi with a femme lean

Kins*: Again she is basically just a fictive of Ceroba from Undertale Yellow, with the only difference being that she has two tails

Age: Older than Rowan, younger by far than Dendro, Monsters age slower than humans just an exact age is not really set mentally but she is older.

Likes: Thrillers and Romance, Art of her source, Cuddlable things, Older music (50s-70s), Calm and quiet situations

Dislikes: Abrasive clothing, People who are quite rude, Failure

Tag: 🦊Ceroba

Note: Ceroba does not front much and is at moment of writing the newest member of our system so this will likely be updated at some point

Members who will not be given great detail

This section is mainly here because of system members who have either been identified or appeared once and haven't been active at really all and we do not know if they are apart of our system still or if their existence is confirmed outside of small blips:

Duana - Moth monstergirl who kinda was the main one angry at everything and was the host for a bit before Sylvia and Lucinda took the reigns, was noted as a member pre-syscovery by those who knew the system was a thing sort of passively back then and she hasn't reappeared in a long time.

Aria - Robot girl who appeared once for like half a day before disappearing into the ether of our brain, do not know if she was a fragment with more of a sense of self or if she is a headmate but she is logged on our SimplyPlural

Clémente Dearworth - Yaelokre Fictive, who appeared in our system very recently and is a middle

Nicole Demara - ZZZ Fictive, who also appeared in our system very recently. And is active, this may get updated again to add her to the main list of things. 🩷

??? - A third pressence of recent editions is known but is unknown.

Questioning on if they are Kins or Members of our System

Mentzelia Laev (OC), its less so feeling like we get too into the mindset of the character, its generally an aspect closer to Clemmie where I feel there is a potential Kin but its more further back, or maybe being someone who is currently not active in the system. Either way Bug Lady had a specific sense of self that has not changed much and would explain the like autumn we were obsessed with blacksmithing and medieval weapons.

Lethica Nightborne (Legends of Avantris, Edge of Midnight), This one is more of a situation where I do not know but suspect she could potentially be like one my brain has picked up upon in a similar sense to Avarstia, Ceroba, and Dendro, a character who is more of a comforting pressence than similar tracks of trauma.

Vash the Stampede (Trigun), this one I think is or will be a kin, I do not see the aspect of them as a headmate being likely given the difference in thoughts but I feel atleast someone in our system will be a kin of Vash... Just has those vibes.

Falin or Marcille (Dungeon Meshi), Again I feel its more of a kin but its somewhere as it was a moment months ago admist the whole identity crisis of syscovery, that I ended up going on a spree and you can check my Tumblr back in April to see it, we were still figuring things out so I have no clue who it would have been. Either way, I feel it may come back again when Dungeon Meshi season 2 drops given the more laxed nature of it all atm.

Burnice White (Zenless Zone Zero), a new one and is the first documented adition. There has been a back and forth between her being a kin or the budding of a headmate, but either way, one tie to Lucinda.

In other words do not be surprised if we update this post to mention them beyond this section, whether as a offhanded mention of a Kin or as apart of our system full on. This section may be updated or maybe not I will say though.

Other Information

Honestly I do not really know what else to add for y'all to know but if you wish to ask anything I may add tags or whatnot down here to give you all an idea of what we do such as possibly using the same tag we use on Bluesky and Twitter for art being:

#AvarstiaArt - Art posts by us

Beyond factors such as that feel free to send in asks and one of us may respond with an answer or whatnot.

[buggybuggs]

Fresh New Commission Sheet!

As I've been drawing more, I've decided to make some updates to what I offer commission wise!

i use PayPal and Ko-Fi for payment :) all prices are in USD!

Click below for more information!

Hey! Glad you clicked!!

The main difference between this comm sheet and my previous one is updating the prices, simplifying my finishing process, and to showcase more of what I can do with my art!!

Got the norm base prices - 20$ headshot, 25$ halfbody, 30$fullbody

Finishing is my term for shading, as I have two shading methods, and a wiggly-line style of art!

Examples below of Style 1 (smooth) 2 (pixel) and 3 (wiggle)

And I do offer discounts for symmetrical works! I didn't write it on my sheet but its usually 5 bucks, whatever makes the number look good.

Now for the 4 featured things -

Yes, I do have an 18 + account, i'm not linking it here but it shouldn't be too hard to search for my 2nd account on this blog

I'm also happy doing taur designs! I can even make them of usual non-taur creatures!

Nonfurry designs are cool too as you can see by my monster girls, here's a human though for good measure (her name is Sam)

And animations!!! I can do smooth Live2d Animations and also frame by frame animations!! Double the price of the usual commission for what it'll cost, so 40 for headshots, 50 for halfbodies, and 60 for full!

And not listed on the sheet.. Ref Sheets!

The base is 50 bucks for the fullbody and your choice of focus shots, and for 5 dollars each you can get a symmetrical outfit doodle added in!

Other than all that, if you see anything I post and want something like that with your characters, feel free to send it over to me!! Whether its a big OC lineup or some specific pose i did before, just let me know!

That's about it though! Here's my TOS below, and feel free to DM me if you have any questions!

I usually give updates for 1-2 sketch phases, a color phase, and then the finished piece. Once I send you one update, I'll wait for your approval before moving onto the next phase. During these updates, any requested changes should coincide with the stage of the artwork (Posing during sketching, color changes during colors, etc.). Please don't have any fear however if you do need to make a last minute change, just keep it reasonable please. I usually add filters onto my art, I'll be more than happy to send unfiltered alternate versions upon request. Feel free to also personally request different filtered looks (Making the piece pastel, adding a static filter, giving the piece a pride flag overlay, etc.) I'm always happy to experiment. When commissioning an animation, please let me know whether you'd like a smoothly made animation using Live2D or a frame-swap animation. Feel free to ask for examples, but just note that these you'll need to pick one or the other Feel free to message me here or on Discord (Mel#4367) for any questions, or if there's something you'd like that isn't listed here [By commissioning me, you agree that your commissioned piece will not be used for AI art, any cryptocurrency related means, or reused/resold for more than you paid.]

[kipaia]

Post-Blitz One-Shot

Elysium, Petra Nebula, September 2nd, 2176

AO3

"Machines are talking to each other all of the time. Calculations, trajectories, comms, even every bit of information in the extranet is all compiled and understood from the ways machines talk to one another. That's what I do; I look at what the machines are saying, and I figure out the best ways of interpreting it so that we can understand it. I'm basically a robot interpreter!"

Athena Shepard swallows thickly around the knot of grief that has been wedged in her throat for the last two weeks since her husband's death. Hearing his voice again, particularly from one of his early messages to Kora, is like dragging a knife slowly through her chest but she won't show it; she can't afford to appear weak right now. Not with the Blitz still so raw and half the Batarian Hegemony outright calling for her head for the losses she had single-handedly been responsible for. Her brief this morning had made it clear that the publicity surrounding her frankly absurd hold of Elysium's perimeter was a double edged sword; for all that humanity as a whole was lauding her as the hero of the decade, she'd painted a target in blood on her back for the batarians.

A small sniff from her elbow brings her back to the present and she gently squeezes her daughter's hand, still so careful with the child. "Kora?"

Kora's free hand quickly comes up to wipe her face that is blotchy from trying to hold in the emotions that Athena was hard pressed to hold back for herself; the fact that she's managed so far is a testament to her inner strength, far beyond what any nine year old child should have.

"Sorry, momma," Kora whispers. "I'm t-trying not to, but I k-keep leaking."

The last comes out of her with such vehement frustration that Athena has to stifle a laugh, determined to not make her daughter think she doesn't take her seriously. Especially not today.

She lowers herself to one knee beside her daughter, ignoring the impersonal droning speech honoring her husband coming from the stage beside them as she takes both of her daughter's hands in her own. Her small hands are still swollen, dry and cracked from her chemo treatments, but Athena takes comfort that the treatments are over with and Kora won't have to deal with her painful hands for much longer. "Kora, no one is going to be upset with you for crying, especially not today."

Her daughter's brown eyes feel like they're boring into her soul as she shuffles a bit. "But this is supposed to be serious."

"Who said serious can't be sad?" Athena says sharply, too sharply; Kora winces, and Athena has to force herself to take a slow, deep breath before continuing. "Kora, aroha, this is a funeral. It is normal to be sad. You're saying goodbye to your dad; crying is part of saying goodbye."

"You always tell me not to cry when you say goodbye, though."

"Right, because I'll see you again." The knot in her throat seems to grow three sizes. "We're not going to see your dad again, so this time it's okay to cry."

Kora still doesn't seem sure, but they're interrupted by one of the Admiral's aids. "Excuse me, Lt. Shepard? They're about to call you up." The staffer at least has the decency to appear distinctly apologetic for interrupting the moment.

"All right." Rising back to her feet, Athena takes one more look at her daughter, taking in the red eyes (she's started 'leaking' again, as she put it) and trembling grip and sighs again. "Do you want to go up with me, or would you rather stay here with this nice young man?" 

The girl's eyes go wide. "But I haven't said goodbye yet!" 

"That's okay!" Athena assures her. "This isn't the goodbye part. They're just going to give us your dad's medals. The goodbye part comes after."

"His medals?" To Athena's surprise, Kora takes a moment to wipe her face with her coat sleeves and visibly braces herself, the exact same way she'd seen Mikhail brace himself a thousand times before doing something unpleasant, and firmly takes her mother's hand once more. "Okay. I'll go with you."

Athena nods and leads the way as the aid gestures them onto the stage. Kora's small hand squeezes tight as they walk under the lights, and though Athena focuses her eyes on Admiral Evans, her attention remains on her daughter's trembling grip. 

The medals are given to her and Kora both, a Purple Heart and a Palladium Star, one for each of them to take. Kora holds the star so carefully in both hands, Athena's hand resting on her shoulder as Mikhail's honors are finished. Before she can usher her daughter away, however, another aide approaches them with yet another small box, this one for Athena herself. By the time she is able to guide Kora back offstage she has risen in rank and received the highest honor of the Systems Alliance, the Star of Terra.

Mikhail Olegovitch Petrovsky is laid to rest an hour later, the burial attended by his wife and daughter and their close family and friends. All of Elysium is eager to honor the those dead from the Blitz, but for now the graveyard belongs to them and the families of the others who are being buried today. All in all Athena spies some three hundred people scattered throughout the area, most of them family of the civilians that had died in the attack; Alliance soldiers lost in the attack, though honored today, were mostly from off-world and would be escorted home from the memorial with full honors. Mikhail was one of only four soldiers who were being buried here in Illyria, right beside his grandmother.

Athena tries (and fails) to ignore the empty space next to him for her as she holds her daughter in her arms, rubbing her back in what she hopes is a soothing way as she sobs.

.

.

.

Hera Shepard regards her sister carefully, searching for any sign of injury or foul mood before sighing heavily and pulling the datapad across the table, reading through it quickly and pushing it back. "Everything is in order. I don't know what you're expecting from me, Athena. It's perfectly clear that this is the right choice for her."

Athena flushes, elbows on her knees and hands fidgeting between them. "What if she needs me?"

"That's what email is for." Hera sighs. She loved her sister, truly, but sometimes she is just too much of an overthinker. "Has there ever been a situation where you were the only person capable of giving her what she needs?"

". . . No."

"What makes this situation any different?" Her sister's eyes grow distant, her face pinching slightly. Damn. A step in the wrong direction; Hera knows what she is about to say and mentally kicks herself for her blunder. 

"Mikhail was always with her." Athena's gaze sank to her toes, her hands going still but for a slight tremble. Hera might not even have noticed it if she hadn't known to be looking for it. 

Hera stands and rounds the table to drop into the free cushion beside Athena, gently reaching out to clasp her hands. Athena is a soldier to her bones, just like their mother, and had gone through hell and high water for the Alliance before she'd even turned twenty. A tactician, a leader, the shining example of what a human biotic is capable of, it is so easy to forget that she is still only twenty-six years old and constantly weighing the demands of the Alliance against the needs of her own daughter. "Athena. Sending Kora to Grissom doesn't mean you're abandoning her," she assures her. "She's a brilliant child; Grissom is the best place for her to learn, somewhere where she can grow at her own pace and where she'll be supported by other students and teachers who can understand her. Did you resent ma for how much she was gone?"

Athena shakes her head. "That was different," she protests, but her heart isn't in it. "We had mom around."

One of Hera's eyebrows shoot up, the old familiar anger bristling down her spine. "Did we? Between the drinking and her job, how often was she really around?" 

She forces herself to stop and shakes her head, pushing the frustration back down. "This isn't what we're talking about now. Kora will have plenty of teachers and classmates to meet her social needs. Her medical team is right here on Elysium in case something happens, and I have it on good authority that Kahlee Sanders has high enough comm priority to get word to you, our mothers, or Anderson immediately in the event that something happens."

"She does?" Athena meets her sister's gaze with relief and hesitates a brief moment before plopping her head on Hera's shoulder, just like she used to when she was a kid. "I feel like I'm abandoning her."

Hera wraps an arm around her shoulders and presses a soft kiss into her sister's hair even as she hides the way her eyes roll at Athena's dramatics. Anyone who has just buried their spouse deserves to be dramatic, even if it's, well . . . dramatic. "You're not. I promise. We're all here for the both of you, just like we always have been. If it helps at all, Dion is going to be enrolling at Grissom in the next few weeks as well."

"He is? Why?"

"To join the new Ascension Project; little bastard's a biotic. Kept it secret for weeks apparently, ma only found out when he sneezed his dinner across the apartment."

Athena snorts a laugh before sighing heavily. "That does make me feel better, actually. He's always kept a good eye on her."

"A good eye? That boy is almost as protective of her as you are," Hera accuses, but the fond smile softened her words. "He'll watch out for her. If anything happens and you absolutely can't take care of it, then either myself, David, or our moms will take care of it." She hesitates, for a moment uncertain if what she wants to say will be an assurance to Athena or a source of anxiety. "Iana is also willing to step in, if you're okay with that."

"Of course!" Athena doesn't even question it, to Hera's immense relief. Their family is usually great about her wife, but so many people aren't that it is often hard to put aside the wariness of how other humans react to their marriage. "Kora adores her and Lanaya; I'll make sure Kahlee knows they're both on the family list." 

She rubs her face wearily. "I hate to say it, but at least she's done with chemo. I can't even imagine having to deal with this and her appointments."

Hera stiffens for a moment and then relaxes, giving Athena's shoulder another squeeze as her thoughts jump to Artemis and the last time a little girl in their family had gone through leukemia treatment and never made it to the bell. Thank the Goddess that they still have Kora, that Athena still has Kora.

From across the apartment comes a series of thuds followed by a string of expletives from Dion and the sound of shattering pottery. The sisters exchange a knowing look as Hera stands, giving Athena's shoulder one last squeeze before heading for the door. "I'll go make sure they didn't break anything important. You okay here for a bit? I can run interference if you need me to."

Athena shakes her head. "I'm okay. Hera?" 

She pauses at the door, her expression as she glances back over her shoulder filled with compassion. "Thanks. You . . . This helped."

Hera flashes her a sad smile. "Anything you need, Athena," she says as she leaves the room wishing that there was more she could do to help her sister find her own smile again.

[blackwldcw]

Sighing, Blackarachnia turned off the transmission screen. The episodes prompted a few laughs, but the narrator's voice was painfully reminiscent of their former mate's, and that just made them feel worse. They couldn't stomach any solid food, but they were somehow on their fourth or fifth strawberry daquiri of the evening. Their head felt filled with cotton, their languid limbs warm and a bit tingly.

They raked a hand down their exposed face. Lilura wasn't an option. They caved about an hour ago and left a message on her comm, as she didn't pick up. They weren't in contact with any of their other sisters, and their mother... well, Lilura told them that she died the moment Chela fell. Laughable, given Venatrix's prophecy that Amate wouldn't succeed her as elder until the titan was dealt with. The old broad knew what she was doing. She was grey and brittle, but still strong and cunning. She wasn't giving up her seat of power easily.

They poured themself another drink, and an idea came to them. They were alone. Billions of light-years away from the caves of Eukaris and the revelries occurring there. They weren't in a particularly amorous mood, but... there was a desire in them for something else.

They delicately stepped towards a free corner of the living space, the jewels they wore softly tinkling in the silence. They closed their eyes and drew in a breath. They shot up a web and scaled it like a ladder. They flipped, one leg wrapping around the gossamer strands while another was held aloft. Their secondary legs moved in synchrony to music only they could hear.

They were dancing.

And as their body swayed and twirled, they felt their mind open, and unlike their nightmares, this time, they could control it. This time, they could welcome it like an old friend.

A web appeared before their mind's eye. One strand in particular glowed violet. They reached towards it.

They gasped, head thrown back, unseeing eyes flying open.

They saw a Cybertron renewed. They saw all their loved ones standing beside them as the sun climbed over the high rises of Iacon, and once the sun reached the earth, new life glimmered there like jewels. New sparks.

But how? They asked the void.

Let me show you, a kind voice answered.

They fell from their strand onto their hands and knees. The vision was gone, but the aftermath still echoed in their brain. Tears ran from their scarlet eyes in rivulets. They tried to get up, but they found that they couldn't move. The shock was too great.

Onyx Prime, Primus, whoever the hell had reached out to them, showed them the missing link in their formula. Once they implemented it, their prototype for energising Rivets Field will be complete within days. And after that, it was only a matter of weeks or months until they replicated the device and transported them to other city-states.

Cybertron would be alive again.

Happy festival of the new sparks.

[saltyladynightmare]

Jiliu AU 9.1

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

Ori'Ana : mando'a/basic, a mix of Ori'vod, and Anakin, basically naming him Older Brother Anakin, just as the suffix -'ika makes 'younger Brother' from Vod'ika

/italics/ : thoughts, emphasis

bold : talking though the Force, because why not

Chapter 9 is not completely finished, but chapter 10 is an idea. If anyone has any ideas for scenes in which the Vod'e are learning how to use the Force, please feel free to contact me or leave a comment. So far, all of my ideas involve various troopers launching themselves into walls when they jump/run/do something too fast. It gets monotonous after a while.

Warnings:

Anakin is a lonely string bean. He also has no trust in the Jedi, because I was salty when i started writing this, and must stick to my guns

~~~~~~

A little under an hour after his Command Staff had left when visiting hours ended, Anakin had dry eyes, a crick in his upper back, and three different To Do lists.

One, he would be sharing with Rex and his—their?—lieutenants. It mostly consisted of a few lists of the things they should focus on getting, what they hoped to get, and what would be nice to get.

Anakin had asked them to leave the datapads behind when they left so he could add more details as he thought of them. They had covered a lot, but he knew he would think of more.

The second was for himself, preferably before their next mission. This one mostly had notes on what datawork he'd need to go over for Torrent. Tying any loose ends that might reach out and strangle them down the line because they dared to look for resources outside of official channels. It also had reminders to finish finding the answers to the questions the men wanted, and maybe answer some of his own. He also wanted to arrange a supplies drop for the Guard, because while Anakin had taught them some tricks on how to get food on their own—which is why he thought to teach Torrent—and he'd given them something of a stockpile, it had been three weeks. Better to be on the safe side.

If every single Vod in Torrent chose to bond with him—and they might not, he reminds himself firmly—it would take about eleven days to get through all of the men. Eleven days to do all of that wasn't a whole lot of time, but Anakin had dealt with worse, and would do so again.

The last list was also for Anakin, but for more long term. So far, it only had a few things on it, making it the shortest list, by far. Primarily, to see if his hypothesis on whether or not he could use his own over abundance of Force Juice to boost his men's own connection with the Force was possible. Secondly, armor. There must be a way to improve that blasted armor across the whole of the GAR.

He added things to the appropriate list, or the near manuals the men had been typing before they'd had to leave, as he thought of them. He has never typed so fast in his life, he was sure.

It was going to be very satisfying to check things off as they were completed.

Which was why he decided to send a message to Fox, asking if he would be available for a comm the moment Anakin remembered he'd wanted to do so. It didn't need to be official, and since Fox didn't mind text comms, Anakin could probably even ensure there would be less of a chance any of the Jedi would discover Fox had anything to do with their plans. The Guard had enough going on, they did not need the extra scrutiny.

Fox, the overachiever, texted back within thirty seconds.

CC-1010: I'll be in my office at 0000

K-AS-6367: Excellent.

K-AS-6367: We can continue this conversation when you aren't likely to get shot.

CC-1010: Affirmative

Anakin's mouth ticked up in one corner, and he absently tapped the side of his scrap-comm fondly.

Anakin had missed him. No nonsense, and mostly no fun as he was, Fox was a good man; steady in a way that Anakin didn't remember having ever felt in a sentient before, and flexible as only a thinking, breathing person could be. It had been a little under a month since Anakin had been shipped off to Torrent, but they hadn't had more than a few short conversations over text in that time.

He'd wait until Fox commed him. This wasn't the sort of thing he wanted Fox to talk about in the open, even if it was over heavily encrypted easily corruptible text.

As soon as Anakin set the comm down, metal chunking lightly against the wood of the table top, the lights flicked off, all at once.

Ak!

His heart just about reared up to strangle him, and the resulting flinch sent claws of pain carving up and down his arm from the yanked IV, but also lacing through his entire body in protest of his aching muscles and ligaments. Razor edged readiness sliced through his mind, cutting and almost gentle in its icy sharpness.

It took a few seconds once his usual flare of surprise and pain died down for him to reassert his reasoning abilities.

He forced himself to breathe at the speed Obi-Wan had taught him to use for meditation so long ago. If it was too fast, and shaky, he forgave himself. He wasn't safe here, and he had a bad habit of forgetting he was not, even when he was alone.

Especially when at the mercy of Masters.

Once the white noise buzzing in his ears died down, as it had every evening since he woke up in this room, Anakin became aware of his comm flashing on the table top where he'd left it.

He blinked at it, fuzzily wondering who had his scrap comm code.

Wait. He'd programmed in his Jedi number and his personal when the healers hadn't given him his comm when he'd proven himself coherent, hadn't he.

Well, at least he knew it wasn't Obi-Wan. They would have told him he didn't have a comm, so far as they knew.

Reassured, Anakin picked up the hunk of junk, more with the force then his half numb fingers, and woke the thing up.

Immediately, it pulled up his new message.

Kix! Anakin perked up a bit.

CT-6116 : Status, General

He wilted again. Medical stuff. Of course.

Wait.

K-AS-6367 : You felt that?

Just as he hits the send button, Anakin became aware of his bonds, all at once.

Anakin had dropped the majority of the shielding on his new bonds the instant the door had closed behind his men. Partly because all six of them had proven to be sensitive to the shielding, but it was mostly for selfish reasons, Anakin can admit to himself with some reluctance. He had soothed over the sting of giving in to his own selfish wants with platitudes; there were two shields between them, it would be fine. He'll put them back up before he went to sleep. If he went to sleep.

It'd be fine.

Except it wasn't, because Anakin had forgotten his curfew.

Of course, they had felt his response to lights off.

Yes, the men were seventeen point four klicks and two heavy duty shields away, but that would have only mattered a little a week ago. Some concentration and he would have been able to send anything he wanted down any of his bonds, but it would have had to be deliberate.

Now? He had four times his previous Sensitivity. Those same shields were like particularly dense flimsy to him now. Force knew he'd had no choice but to layer his own shields to wring even an ounce of functionality from his brain even behind these once impressive artificial shields.

Anakin was typing almost before he finished the thought.

K-AS-6367 : Nevermind.

K-AS-6367 : Clear. Just surprised.

It wasn't long before the reply came, accompanied by a near buzzing displeasure over the bond. The promise behind the text was hardly shocking.

CT-6116 : I'll see you in the morning, sir.

Satisfied Kix wouldn't message again, Anakin put the comm to sleep, slumping.

He breathed in deep, held it for a count of three, then slowly released it. He let the guilt of his negligence stream out between his teeth too. He inhaled again, held for three beats, grabbed the shields he'd so selfishly dropped, then exhaled, pulling them up.

Anakin was fully capable of learning from his mistakes. It was quite possibly the only reason he was still alive, between that and his sheer jaw dropping luck.

Anakin liked to think it had more to do with the former, if only because he had a lot more control of that, but he had long since decided it was a waste of energy to think about what might be, instead of simply accepting what was.

He made a mistake. He would learn from it, and move forward.

Putting his comm to the side, Anakin gathered the holocrons with the Force, and settled on the floor with a sigh. He ignored the creaking aches through out his body with the ease of long practice, instead deliberately arranging the holocrons to hover in the most geometrically sound pattern around himself.

Best get back to it.

[shiroxix]

I feel super differently about this than a lot of artists: if you want to use my art for an RP character or a TTRPG token, feel free!

I'd prefer you not use my *characters* though. IE - If you want to use art of Yarrow as a stand in for your OC, great, just don't play Yarrow himself. Also, please credit me and do NOT claim the art as your own. Also, don't use my commissioned work, since I don't own those characters and can't consent on behalf of their owners.

I do offer pretty affordable TTRPG token art, though! If you need art for an OC/TTRPG character, send me a message! I'd be happy to make something custom for you! (I offer PWYW comms too, so I can work with your budget)

I'm very aware that some people can't draw and that HeroForge and Picrew can only do so much. Sometimes the character in your head looks more like art you've seen before than anything you're capable of creating yourself. Use my art if it looks close enough, or commission me for something even closer. It's nbd.

[zoeykallus]

Hunter – Dirty Little Thief 12 – Still A Dirty Little Thief

Hunter x female reader She/Her (Enemies To Lovers)

Warnings: SMUT 18 + /Hurt/Angst/Heartache

________________

It seems Hunter and you have made up and are celebrating quite intensely. However, Tech calls and has some disturbing news. Something is very wrong here and Hunter is anything but pleased.

________________

What Happened Before

Dirty Little Thief

Part 2 -Fairplay

Part 3- What We Do Not Admit

Part 4 - Provocative

Part 5 - Fighting And Loving

Part 6 - Scorching Hot

Part 7 - Keep It Together

Part 8 - Give Me More

Part 9 - Don’t You Dare

Part 10 - Hurt

Part 11 - Say You Won’t Miss Me

Part 12 - Still A Dirty Little Thief

You sat on Hunter's lap on the bed, his cock deep in your pussy while your hips bounced up and down. He moaned beneath you, his hands gripped your boobs and he looked up at you as if the fate of all stars lay in your hands. You loved that look on his face when he was so lost in you that nothing else existed for him but you.

Hunter filled you up and you leaned further down to him, rubbing your Venus against his pubic bone, creating delicious friction on your clit. A deep sigh came from your mouth and your fingernails dug into his shoulders as the intensity in your pussy increased. He suddenly grinned at you and you guessed what was coming before he did. His arms wrapped around you, he pressed you against him, placed his feet and began thrusting his hips in quick sequence, hard into your cunt.

It made the friction even more intense and elicited a moan from you.

"Hunter!"

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured to you, aroused and amused at the same time.

He liked being in control and watching you lose yours in horniness.

"Yes," you groaned hoarsely.

He held you tight and kept fucking you, your naked body pressed against his, your boobs resting on his toned chest.

"If you keep this up I'm going to cum any minute now".

"Yes, Cyar'ika! That's it!"

He released one arm from you, gripping you tightly with one arm remaining, and clawed his now free hand into one of your buns, squeezing you harder and tighter into his thrusts. You both began to moan. You feel the arousal take over and overwhelm you forcefully. Your pussy twitches around his cock, contracting tightly, and the moan that comes from his mouth sounds almost like a released cry.

Your thighs tremble, every muscle is tense and your toes curl as your pussy contracts and your climax literally milks his throbbing, hard length. You feel him shoot his seed into you and you hear that he has filled you as he thrusts into you a few more times before finally holding still and kissing the top of your head.

He laughed softly and said, "That was round one."

You lifted your head from his chest, his cock slowly softening, still inside you.

"How many rounds are you planning on doing?"

"As many as we can, when do we ever have a hotel room and an opportunity like this?"

You giggled.

"Okay. Good point," you finally agreed.

You couldn't complain, you liked that Hunter was so hungry for you. You were hungry for him, too. He was right, you got an opportunity like this far too rarely.

After you had showered off and were already thinking about the next round, Hunter saw that he had received several missed calls and messages on his com link. Quite a few, in fact.

He sighed and looked at you apologetically.

"I'm afraid the second round will have to wait, I need to see what's going on first. Tech has left me what feels like a thousand messages."

With a sigh, you nodded.

"Okay, well that was too good to be true"

As you were about to turn around and gather your things, he gently grabbed your shoulder and spun you around to face him.

"Hey, I'm glad we worked things out and made up."

You smiled and nodded.

"I am too"

Turning the comm back on, Hunter got a new call right away and answered it.

"This is Hunter. Tech what's up?"

"Where the hell are you?"

Tech sounded upset, and he almost never does, really. Something wasn't right.

"At a hotel in town. Why? What's going on?"

Tech sighed and said, " The holocron we were guarding has been replaced, it's a fake. Our client has detained us until the original is back in his possession."

Hunter frowned.

"That doesn't make sense, who would have switched it? We were in the room the whole time, someone was always there."

Tech said irritated, "That's why the contractor won't let us go! He thinks we stole it, tried to rip him off."

Hunter shook his head, still frowning.

"That doesn't make sense," he said quietly.

A little calmer, gentler but also serious, Tech said, "I hate to say it, but maybe you should check Y/N again."

Hunter turned on his heel and began pacing up and down the room. Your heart was pounding up to your throat as you watched him.

"I don't think that's necessary. She has certainly earned our trust."

Tech sighed and said, "I know, I don't like it either. Normally I would agree with you, but I know for a fact it wasn't either of us. So that basically leaves only her."

Hunter was about to protest and spun around on his heel again, already catching his breath, but tripped over your backpack, which toppled over as a result.

To both of your horror, the holocron rolled out of it. Your gaze was fixed on it for a moment, you heard it whisper softly. But you felt Hunter's probing, angry gaze and finally looked at him again.

Hunter said, "I'll get you out of there as soon as I can," and hung up.

His expression was hard, the hardness in his eyes hit you like a spear to the chest. No excuses would help you now.

"I know what this looks like," you said as calmly as you could, "but I'm afraid you don't understand why I did it."

He shook his head, his voice husky with anger, "You're right, I don't understand that at all."

You swallowed.

Hunter slammed his fist into the wall, where he left a deep dent, and you flinched, startled.

He rumbled, "I really believed you when you were so panicked about the holocron being gone"

" I was!" you said helplessly "The fact that the wrong one disappeared was not in my plan. So my shock at that was pretty genuine"

Hunter shook his head, he couldn't believe you decived him like this.

You said softly, "It could contain information, about me, my past, where I actually came from. Why else would this thing keep calling me like a siren?"

Hunter glared at you, rumbling, "Because you're force sensitive! Every damn holocron reacts to you and vice versa! That doesn't mean there's anything in there about you!"

"You don't know that!"

He raised his finger, close to your face and growled, "Neither do you! Yet you risk me and my brothers getting into serious trouble just so you can satisfy your curiosity!"

You throw your hands helplessly in the air and say, "I'm sorry! Okay? I thought he wouldn't notice until we left the planet."

Hunter grabbed the holocron and said, "No. Not okay. That's a shitty excuse. I'm taking the holocron back and getting my brothers. You would be advised to stay away from us from now on. You are still just a dirty little thief. I won't let you decive me again"

You felt a sharp sting in your chest. A heaviness that suddenly settled on you. You felt as if you could hardly breathe, your mouth became dry and your voice did not obey you. A new, strange pain nestled in your chest, the pain of being left behind and rejected, of being abandoned.

You wanted to say something as he turned his back on you and climbed back out the window with the holocron, but you couldn't even get Hunter's name past your lips.

@oneshot-one-kill

@moonstrider9904

@photogirl894

@chlorine-claws

@chxpsi

@nunanuggets

@the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond

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@tech-deck

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@graciexmarvel

[welldonekhushi]

WHAT IF: Arjun exists in the MWII storyline?

"What does India have to do with this mission, General?" Laswell asked.

"It doesn't. But as they say, 141 picks the best group of warriors on the planet. Regardless where they belong to, so I'm sending the man we chose." Shepherd replied.

"We have found a new name on the list. He's a Captain for the Para Special Forces led by the Indian Army. Call sign Arjun." Laswell mentions the details and creates contact with the Captain.

"General Shepherd. Pleasure to meet your acquaintance." Arjun spoke through the comms, as his details show on the screen.

"We'll be glad to rely on you, Captain Arjun. Because we need your help. We will be patching you to Las Almas to assist our teammates for assistance and also as a strategist. We checked your records and we're heavily impressed."

"But why me, General? Isn't this your mission?"

"My mission is the world's mission, Captain. This is why we need you." Shepherd said. "You will be teamed up with Colonel Alejandro Vargas from the Mexican Special Forces with Sergeant Johnny MacTavish and Lieutenant Simon Riley on your arrival. They'd be really happy to see you."

"Copy that, General. Arjun out." Arjun gave his regards before his voice communication declines.

After the voice message, Arjun turned to Colonel Shaurya Kulshrestha, Arjun's mentor. He congratulated the captain for being recruited to the 141, feeling proud of his soldier. "I'm happy for you, Arjun. This is the first time we've ever got an opportunity like this. You shouldn't let this down."

"I'm sure very happy sir but.. there is something in my mind lately ever since the conversation."

".. what's on your mind, Arjun?" Shaurya asked, and saw the Captain sigh half-heartedly. At some point, he was also unsure.

"We're currently not even free enough from our duties. Our nation needs us, it needs me. And I'm leaving to help somebody else in their struggles. Though it's something I feel honoured about, Colonel, to be invited in a part of an international task force, but sir.. what if you would require me at a point of time? And everyone knows without their Captain it'll look impossible." Arjun shook his head, and leaned over the desk beside him. "I can't leave my team behind, sir. It's impossible."

The Colonel noticed the worry inside the Captain's head, and he didn't find any objection in it. Arjun's feeling was valid, but it was something to not feel ashamed about, and Shaurya well knew about it. He comfortingly puts a hand on Arjun's shoulder, making the Captain look at him back.

".. you're not wrong, Arjun. I could have felt the same like you are, too. But.. I want you to think.. that this is such a rare feeling, for you at least. That someone beyond the country believes you'll assist them in their hard times. You, who made yourself in such a way that they require you. You're not going there by yourself, Arjun. They chose you. For a very big reason. A time to show what you are capable of, and we don't even feel regretful about it. Instead, I'm proud of how far you've come, and you shall never waste this opportunity." Shaurya consoles Arjun, continuing as he walks around the place, before looking back at them.

".. I wanted such warriors who can show what we're capable of, that the world will notice. And that's what you did, Arjun."

After hearing the Colonel's words, Arjun's unsure feeling slowly vanished. The assurance which he needed helped him overcome his issue, and now he was ready to face it. Walking towards Shaurya, Arjun saluted him, nodding.

"I'll be glad to honor my nation sir. No matter where I go, I'll always be for my own nation." Hearing this from the Captain's side, Shaurya smiled and hugged Arjun in a celebratory way, proud of his soldier to be going out on an international mission. He says one final line in the end. "Good luck, Captain Arjun."

This was now the time, when Arjun will finally join the 141.

[slippinmickeys]

The Mesas of Deutoronilus Mensae (13/?)

The reverberation of the M-L/AV as it pierced the thin atmosphere of Mars had the calamitous feel of doomsday, the shaking and roar of the vehicle like the very ending of existence. Mulder could see nothing from where he sat, strapped to the jump seat in his EVA hardsuit, but he could hear everything; from the chatter of the mission pilots to the storm outside the ship, as the God of War fought the invasion of warm-bodied terrestrial visitors.

He felt it the moment the parachutes deployed above them, jerking back the lander and all the people in it as it scooped at the Martian air, slowing their descent. They fell for what felt like eons before a skidding impact informed them they’d touched down. Mulder could hear labored breathing through the comms system as each of the ten astronauts processed the fact that what they’d been training for for years was now a reality — they were on the face of another planet.

“Mission Control,” Ehrlich said, her voice carrying a hint of steely triumph, “Nerio has touched down. We are two hundred yards from nominal target site.”

At this there was outright whooping and cheers from the crew. There would have also been back slapping and embraces if the stiff-jointed hard suits were at all conducive to more free movement in the tight quarters of the Mars-Lander/Ascent Vehicle.

Mulder heard the click as Ehrlich switched the comms with Mission Control off so that the crew could freely talk amongst themselves without Houston listening in. Due to the distance between Mars and Earth, it would take Ehrlich’s radio message to NASA a full ten minutes to arrive and then another ten before any return message was received on the red planet. At the HAB, the inflatable temporary base where the astronauts would be living (until more permanent structures could be built to house the new colony), there would be a much faster comm laser array that would ensure more timely communication between Mars and Earth, but it would take time to get it up and fully operational. Until then, the Nerio mission would be largely on their own.

“All right Nerio,” Ehrlich said, “let’s get out of this bird and check out the new digs.”

The astronauts stood awkwardly in the large suits, unstrapping themselves from the jump seats to move to the M-L/AV’s small airlock where they would be depressurized in groups of two before stepping out onto the Martian landscape.

As it happened, Mulder and Scully were the third pair to exit the ship, and stepped into the airlock together. Before depressurizing, they would each have to check each other’s hardsuits systems and structure. It was the first time they’d been alone together since Scully had ended their burgeoning relationship, other than a few assigned duties during which they were too busy to do much more than exchange brief pleasantries. Even then she seemed distant from him and closed off. He sighed, missing their old camaraderie.

Once the airlock door had sealed behind them, they turned to each other. Mulder hit the button on his suit that would switch off the comm from the wideband comm channe,l that all the other astronauts could hear, to the private two-way (or three-way, or four) system that would enable each person to have a private discussion with any of the other suits in their general proximity. Without this feature, there would be constant chatter on the comm channel, with people talking over one other. With ten people doing different things all over the base at the same time, it was essential, and a genius bit of engineering, Mulder had to admit. He connected his private comm system with Scully’s.

“You ready for this?” Mulder asked her without preamble. They were about to step out onto the surface of another world.

“I am,” Scully said stoically. “Do you want me to do you first?”

Mulder ignored the softball and chose not to make the easy crude joke.

“Sure,” he said, watching her face through the transparent barrier of her helmet. She did not meet his eyes.

She went through the safety check process thoroughly, checking to make sure every closure on Mulder’s hard suit – gloves, boots, helmet and torso – were sealed properly. This would need to be done every time any one of the astronauts or colonists went out on EVA. One tiny leak in a person’s suit and they wouldn’t last more than a few minutes in the deadly atmosphere of Mars. She then checked the suit system readout on Mulder’s left wrist.

She reached for her own wrist and reconnected to the wideband comm. “Astronaut Mulder’s suit is properly sealed, suit systems nominal,” she reported.

“Copy,” said Ehrlich. Scully reached down to switch back to private comm.

“My turn,” she said, glancing at him once, briefly. It was only a split second, but he tried to read her eyes.

He checked the wrist seal where her gloves (which had probably the most expensive technology of anything on the whole of the mission, protecting the astronauts while at the same time giving them maneuverability and the ability to feel even minute texture changes of objects in their grasp) met her hard suit and glanced up at her face.

“How have you been, Scully?”

She didn’t respond for a moment, and he tried not to read too much into her pause.

“I’ve been… all right.” He moved to check her boots, noting the blue diagonal stripes that went across her foot. Each astronaut’s hard suit was color coded with stripes that would stick out in a regular pattern against the natural backdrop of Mars, each individual’s color making for easy identification from a distance. Scully’s suit’s stripes were a bright blue. Like her eyes, Mulder thought. He glanced down at his own forest green-striped suit for a moment before moving up to check where her helmet met the neck of her hardsuit. “How about you?” she asked. His eyes met hers and held.

I miss you, he wanted to say. Instead, he said, “I’ve been okay.” He wanted to touch her, her skin, feel the warmth and the weight of it. Instead, he finished checking her suit.

She nodded at him as if to say Good , and he looked to her suit’s system readout and then reached for his own to disengage private comm.

“Astronaut Scully’s suit is properly sealed, suit systems nominal.”

“Copy,” said Ehrlich. “Visors down. Engage airlock.”

Mulder and Scully both reached up to activate the gold visor shield on each of their helmets. The loud hiss and chug of the airlock pump engaged, and fifteen seconds later the airlock light went from red to green.

Scully reached forward to open the outer hatch. The sight as the door swung open to reveal the alien world made his breath hitch. It was exactly what he’d expected and nothing like he’d dreamed. Red dirt, orange mountains, the dome of the Martian atmosphere the color of fresh-caught salmon with the sun shining as an eerily small dot in the not-so-distant sky.

Their landing site, the Deuteronilus Mensae region, was located on the northern edge of Arabia Terra and bordering the southern highlands and the northern lowlands. It was most notably characterized by the glacial features it possessed — towering red mesas that rose up out of the land like the backs of giants lowered into penitent genuflection.

An unconscious impulse made him want to reach for Scully’s hand. Ehrlich’s comm system beeping through to his on the private channel drew his attention instead.

“Mulder, Scully, I’m going to require some assistance over here,” the commander said into their three-way comm. “Henderson is experiencing some panic.”

Mulder turned to see where the four astronauts that had already exited the M-L/AV were clustered. Ehrich raised her suited hand, her stripes a bright red. Next to her, one of the astronauts was half bent-over, gloved hands on his thighs. From the bright purple stripes, Mulder identified him as Henderson, an engineer and mission specialist.

Mulder watched as Scully looked at her wrist display and brought up a new screen.

“His heart rate is through the roof,” Scully informed Ehrlich and himself. “He’s over-oxygenating.” As flight surgeon, she had access to the medical information from each person’s hardsuit. The man was hyperventilating.

“I’ve got him,” Mulder said, and switched out of the private comm with Ehrlich and Scully to engage in two-way with Henderson as he approached the group. He could immediately hear the man’s urgent breathing, interspersed with occasional gasps and groans.

“Henderson, it’s Mulder,” he said calmly. “I’ve got you on private comm right now. I’m going to patch in the commander and flight surgeon, is that okay?” Without waiting for an answer, he clicked them in. “Okay, Connor,” he went on. “It’s just the four of us. You’re having a little bit of trouble?”

Henderson gasped and Mulder could hear him struggle to put together words. “It doesn’t,” he breathed hard, “look right. It’s all… wrong… too… close.”

Mulder looked out at the planet before them. It was odd. Due to the size of Mars (about half the size of our own planet), the horizon was closer than it would have been on Earth, giving everything an eerie, claustrophobic feel. It was like Hitchcock had done some trick with the camera to mess with the audience’s headspace.

“Connor,” Mulder said, hitting the button on his visor that would make it go from reflective to transparent so the man could see his face. “Look at me.”

Henderson took a stumbling step toward Mulder and tried straightening up. Though Mulder couldn’t see his face through the man’s own visor, he could tell Henderson was trying to do as he asked. He put a hand on the man’s shoulder. Henderson wouldn’t be able to feel it, but the familiar gesture would register nevertheless.

Mulder heard the beep of Scully popping into two-way with him. “Mulder, I’m going to lower his oxygen levels and raise the CO2 briefly. It’ll be like plunking a paper bag over his mouth. Just try to get him to breathe normally.”

“Copy,” Mulder said, and then switched comm back over to Henderson.

“This,” Mulder said, gesturing out to the alien landscape with his other hand, “is weird. It’s alien. It’s normal to have a big reaction to it. Our training only prepares us for so many things. What you’re going through is completely normal. Let yourself process it, but you gotta breathe while you do that, okay?“

He could hear Henderson’s ragged breaths over the hiss of the comm.

Mulder put his gloved hand in front of the other astronaut’s face.

“I want you to breathe in when my hand goes up and out when it goes down. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Do it with me, ready?”

He gestured to the man and took loud breaths along with his hand movements so he could follow along. The pranayama technique would suppress the body’s sympathetic nervous response, which controlled fight-or-flight, and trigger the parasympathetic response, which would calm him down.

As the man breathed, Mulder considered the fact that his work here had only just begun. Part of Mulder’s job was to observe the astronauts' reaction to the planet and help NASA and the Mars Colony Administration design the colony to make the people living there feel more at home. This immediate response from someone who had been screened and trained for this scenario just proved how much work he had yet to do. He made a mental note to call a meeting with the colony’s architects so he could make suggestions on how to minimize the compressing feeling of Mars’ peripheral field. They would also have to come up with a plan for M-L/AV disembark procedure.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boot of another astronaut step up to them. It had the bright blue stripe of Scully’s hardsuit.

“Pulse rate dropping,” she beeped in. “You’re doing good, Mulder.”

Mulder kept talking to Henderson, kept looking at him, letting the man concentrate on his voice and his face until his breathing seemed to fully regulate. After a few minutes, Henderson straightened himself.

“I’m… I’m okay,” the man said.

“Body readings back within acceptable range, Commander,” Scully clicked in.

“Glad to have you back, Connor,” Ehrlich said, then switched over to the wideband comm. “All right M-L/AV,” she said. “We’re ready for team four. Nominal on the ground.”

“Nominal on the lander,” came one of the pilot’s voices. “Sending group four to airlock.”

Ehrlich had one of the Team Two members move to sit with Henderson on a nearby rock and approached Mulder and Scully.

“I want you to meet the last two groups as soon as they come out of airlock,” she told them. “See if we can’t avoid this happening again.”

“Copy,” they both said and moved together to stand in front of the M-L/AV’s airlock door. They waited.

“Nice work back there,” Scully said as they waited for the next team to run through checks.

“Thank you,” Mulder said, eyes roving over the scorched ceramic exterior of the M-L/AV, of the now-deflated airbags that had softened the ship’s impact with the hard planet. They would need to be carefully repacked. “Just doing my job.”

“We’re lucky to have you, Mulder,” she said, and in her voice he heard something like affection. He quickly glanced at her, but her reflective visor was still engaged. Then she reached out a hand and gripped his, quickly. Through the technological marvel of the glove, he felt each individual finger, felt her squeeze once and then let go.

“Thank you,” he said again, feeling better about life than he had in weeks. And then the airlock door opened and they were greeting Team Four, then Team Five.

Once all the astronauts were out of the lander, Ehrlich called for muster, and all but Henderson, who was still sitting on the nearby rock, clustered around her.

“Alright, Shaw, Powers and Patel, I want an inspection on the HAB,” she announced. “All readouts report nominal, I want full visual confirmation before we go in. Then we can get out of these damn suits and have a celebratory drink in our new home.”

Even Henderson roused at this, and there was a round of cheerful chatter.

“I feel duty bound to point out that alcohol was prohibited on the manifests, commander,” Powers said, standing off to the side in his yellow-striped suit.

“And if you didn’t pack the four bottles of champagne I slipped you before leaving Earth, you’re not half the payload specialist I think you are, Powers.”

“I’m twice the payload specialist you think I am, ma’am,” Powers announced smugly. “I packed eight.”

[mxtantrights]

The magic-spy and the bird

the best friends brother trope is in my top 5 tropes. but I've also got a thing for angst. So here we areeeee. enjoy! <3

dick Grayson x f!reader

Jason Todd had asked you specifically to ask his brother out. And he did use the word brother, which you made a point to bring up. He shot it down but still decided to push his message towards you. You should ask Dick out. It wasn’t that simple.

“Jay I don’t think you’ve thought this through.” you said.

He chuckled, “Of course I did. I wouldn’t say it out loud if it wasn’t a well-cooked plan.” 

You made a face at him.

“Okay look, all I'm saying is you’ve got nothing to lose. If anything you're way out of his league.” he said and then gulped down the rest of his beer.

You didn’t like beer and so you worked on a Pina colada. You had done the whole beer thing for years now. As a trained spy it was your go-to for missions at bars. Safe to say you were sick of ales, craft beers and everything in between.

“Ah yes, the magic using spy.” you nodded your head.

Jason nodded along with you. 

“Exactly. Bird brains would eat that up.” he said.

“And when would I tell him that I knew about his secret identity? Before I tell him about mine or after?” you asked. 

Jason sighed and raised his hand for another beer. You rolled your eyes at this. Once he had a thought it was very hard for him to let it go. Especially when it included a thought about people he cared for- no matter how much he claimed the opposite. 

“All Im saying is, you never know until you try.” 

“What are you a fortune cookie?” 

“Fuck off. I’m being serious and I do give great advice you can ask Duke.” 

2 DAYS LATER 

You look at Caliban with bated breath. He had just gotten info on a magic-based rebellion. Work was tight when you rolled with the good guys for too long of a time. You blame that on two men on your life, Jason and Constantine. 

“I’ll put in a good word for you.” he says.

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. And any-”

Before you can finish telling Caliban that he can call in a favor from you at anytime your surroundings change. In a flash you go from one of the underworld crime bars to a room you’ve never been in before.

You look around and sure enough you see the culprit. Constantine.

“There she is!” he smiles.

Not only did he summon you, he did so in front of an audience. Circled around him is Gotham’s crime fighting family. All of them except Jason, Cass and Duke. All of which know about your secret identity and would’ve stopped Constantine from summoning you. The rest of the family are all looking at you liked you’ve grown a second head.

You look down at what you’re wearing. The long sleeve off the shoulder skin tight black dress was the perfect choice for the club you were supposed to be in. Maybe not so much for a meeting with the Bats and his birds.

You look right ahead at Constantine, “I don’t like being summoned.” 

“Ah, but you’re the best person I know for this job. I had to get you over here.” he says.

You take a quick look at all the other people in the room. Then at the screen behind them. Your information is plastered on it. Well, the information that you’ve decided to let the government think was yours. Your codename was at the top of the screen.

“Constantine says that you’re the best way into the underworld.” Batman says.

You’re confused to say the least. Constantine was Constantine, why would he call you in order to get them into the underworld when he can do it himself? It defeats the purpose of having to call him.

“I’m sorry,” you direct to Batman and then look at your friend, “I need you to state specifically what I’m needed for.” 

Constantine moved from the family over to you. As he did you watched as Nightwing followed him with his own eyes. Now Dick knows you’re not just Jason’s friend from around Gotham. Great.

“Bats got intel that something it going down with this magic group, the-” he starts. “hex mutiny.” you finish.

“You already know about them?” Nightwing says.

“I was just getting someone to put in a good word for me with them before you summoned me here. You’ve got great timing you know that?” you say to Constantine.

He smiles, “Well then it seems like you can be of great service, spygames.”

“And what exactly would I be doing, if I can even get a spot with them?” you throw out the question to the family.

Red Robin crosses his arms, “We need someone on the inside to tell us what they are planning for Gotham.”

“I doubt they’d let a newbie in on their plans.”

“Good thing you won’t be a newbie.” Batman says.

Constantine conjures an amulet in his hand. You want to hit him over the head. He could really be a pain in the ass. You grab it from him.

“With this, you’ll be in the perfect position to get in and get out. Easy.” he says.

You shake your head, “Every time you say that I get a new scar.” 

“I promise sweetheart. No scars this time.” 

“Yeah yeah, you owe me for this.”

EXACTLY ONE WEEK LATER

You knew you would end up wounded. Typically with Constantine it was nothing deadly, or nothing your own magic couldn’t fix. But you knew that your luck had to run out some day. And it wasn't his fault.

After finding out what the group was really up to you couldn’t just let them operate. They weren’t really rebels. No they used that name to paint a narrative. They were fascists.

You held the wound to your waist to stop the bleeding. This would have to be the farthest you could go. There was no way you could run out of this. Not with the blood seeping through the cracks of your fingers.

At least you brunt the members down to the ash. It took a lot out of you. And that’s why you weren’t prepared for a hit that tore right through you. 

“Why aren’t you moving?” Jason, or Redhood, said through the comms.

You leaned against the hallway wall.

At least you’d die someplace pretty. When you first came in you didn't notice how clean and meticulous everything was. There were painting of famous magicians on the walls. Along with some stolen art, a Van Gogh or two. 

You ripped the amulet off your neck and felt the illusion fade. The necklace fell to the floor and you let out a pained breath.

“I think,” you coughed and on the clean wall was not splatters of blood, “this is it.”

You could hear Jason shouting on the other end. He was calling out your name, calling out for Constantine to come and help you. Duke was calling for you too. And you could’ve sworn you heard Cass say your name once. 

With your only free hand you tried to open a portal out of the base. You knew it would be useless as you had a mortal wound and portal magic works best under no stress and panic, or blood loss. The usual light from your hands glowed faintly until it didn’t.

“Constantine can’t summon you?” Dick asked.

At that you let your body drag down the wall until you reached the floor. When you did sit down more blood came out. So you decided to lay down horizontally. 

“Hey hey- I told you I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you.” you hear Constantine through the comms.

You want to laugh, but it ends out more of a chocked gargle.

“I screwed up the mission. I deserve it.” you said.

“You did good. Better than any of us.” Batman said.

“Constantine you need to call in whatever favors you have to get her out of there. Now!” Jason shouted.

“Dont,” you started.

“No. We’re getting you out of there-”

“Jason, I’m not a saint. I never would’ve imagined going out like this.” you said.

Once you were born you were thrusted in this world. All you knew was to use magic as a weapon. To get ahead, to get power, to get the glory. And that lasted you until you turned 19. 

Then Constantine crossed paths with you. He was the one to show you that magic has other uses. Such as helping and healing. You learned the best stuff from him.  And you took what you learned and began to help in ways you could.

You didn’t go on the straight and narrow. Never did you consider yourself a morally correct person. Sometimes the lines were blurred, or they need to be blurred. And so you took down seedy organizations, went on recon missions all over the world.

It wasn’t justice. But it was close enough that you could sleep at night or the odd hours of the morning for more than four hours.

“Sweetheart I don’t break my promises.” Constantine said finally.

You were just beginning to feel your eyes grow heavy. The pain was starting to be comfortably numb. Then above you appeared someone you weren’t expecting in the slightest. 

“Caliban?” you asked.

“You owe me double.”

4 DAYS LATER

When you woke up you felt battered and weak You weren’t used to these feelings and you weren’t used to being so close to death. Everyday was a new experience when you’re the Priestess of Espionage.

You cracked open one eye to find a couple of deviants at your side. Jason, Duke and Cass. The youngest took the chair next to you while Duke and Jason seemed to take the floor. Since they weren’t in their gear you guessed that you were out for longer than a couple of hours.

“Not my version of hell but I’ll allow it.” you say in a raspy voice.

It wakes everyone up.

Jason and Duke bolt to your bedside.

“Why’d you almost die on me?” and “Are you feeling okay?” come from them both, respectively. It makes you want to laugh but when you feel the ache in your waist you stop yourself.

“I’m alive, so there’s that. Positives.” you answer.

Jason shoots his younger siblings a look and they scurry out the room. You try to sit up to ask what it was for but he puts his hands up for you to stop any movement. So you lay back down.

“He would kill me if you tore your stitches.” 

You shut your eyes, “Jason I don’t think Constantine would kill you per say.”

You hear the door opening so you decide to open your eyes. And sure enough you see Jason leaving the room and someone coming in. Dick Grayson, out of his suit as well. 

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t read his face. Besides the clear betrayal that was there. He definitely knew that you knew he’s Nightwing.

“Hi.” you say.

His face softens, “Hi.”

“I just want to say that I would’ve told you about who I am. Sooner that you think actually but this mission kinda derailed all of that.” you say.

With his arm crossed over his chest he nods, “How long did you know I was Nightwing?”

You wince.

“For about two years now. Once Jason told me he was Red it was hard to not notice the similarities of the Wayne family and the Bat one.” 

He laughs at that and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It must be going good if he wants to laugh. 

“And when did he tell you that I like you?” he asks.

“He didn’t explicitly say that.” 

There’s a beat of silence. You’re looking at him and he’s looking at you. But he’s the one who seems to be holding his breath this time. You try to hide the smirk you feel forming on your lips.

“What?” he asks.

“Jason had told me that I should ask you out. He didn’t say anything about you liking me.” you answer him.

The red tint that covered Dick Grayson was absolutely adorable.

He nods his head to himself. Twice.

“I- I’m gonna get Jason for you.” he moved to the door.  And you don’t really know what to say. All your words get jumbled in your brain and you can’t put them together in a way that is smooth enough so you deicide to just try your best.

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes.” you say.

He looks directly at you. Then his signature smirk appears.

“I’ll bring back some food for later.” he says.

“it’s a date.” you answer.

[tennessoui]

If you're up up to it, how about obikin and 42?

yes!!! Prompt 42 is Star-Crossed Lovers, but star-crossed lovers are soooooo out now. 'Crossed the stars to be lovers' is IN, baby!!

(2.7k)

Someone has left a letter on his bunk. Obi-Wan as a rule doesn’t get letters. Actually, as a rule, Obi-Wan has never wanted to receive a letter in his entire life. They all have datapads for a reason, and it’s because they’ve evolved past the need for flimsi and ink when there are means at their disposal to deliver messages near instantly.

So no, Obi-Wan has never wanted to see a letter sitting on his bunk. He finds the whole thing rather trying, actually, the Flimsi Friends program the Jedi Order established fifty standard years ago in an attempt to connect their Jedi with others across the branches through letters. Obi-Wan had scorned the idea as an Initiate living comfortably in the Temple on Coruscant, and his opinion hadn’t really changed once he began his tenure at the AgriCorps.

Kabre notices before anyone else. “Oh, hey! Obi-Wan’s got a letter.”

“Finally,” Aldran grins, craning his neck from where he’s collapsed on his bunk. “We only signed you up months ago.”

“Really, you shouldn’t have,” Obi-Wan says. “Really.”

“Oh, come now, little Obi,” Kabre pats him on the head. Obi-Wan is twenty-five and of a perfectly average height, but Kabre is close to three heads taller than him and of an indeterminable age. “Think of it as an opportunity to strengthen your connection to the living Force.”

“Through the Flimsi Friends program,” Obi-Wan deadpans, raising an eyebrow up at his peer.

“Getting letters from Susa is the highlight of my week,” Aldran tells the ceiling dreamily.

Obi-Wan shares a commiserating eyeroll with Kabre. “That’s because you’re in love with her.”

“Who wouldn’t be? She’s so sweet and kind and pretty and she has all these stories from her adventures in the ExploraCorps--”

“Alright, who got him talking about Susa?” Lathrum asks from the door, sighing in exasperation as he makes his way over to his own bunk. “It’ll be a standard day before he’s done.”

“Hey!” Aldran gasps, offended and already close to sulking. “Whatever. Fine. Everyone’s just jealous that Susa and I are in love because y’all are never going to find something nearly as good as we have.”

“Obi-Wan finally got a letter from the program,” Kabre announces to Lathrum. “We were just saying that he should at least try to be excited.”

“Yes, perhaps you’ll meet your own Susa,” Lathrum smirks, peeling off his dirt-covered tunic. His next words come out muffled. “Force help us if that happens.”

“No need to worry,” Obi-Wan says dryly, picking up the letter and studying it. “They appear to be a youngling.”

“A youngling wrote you?” Kabre asks, barely restrained glee in his deep baritone.

Aldran guffaws from his bunk. “Well now you have to write back!”

“Knowing your luck, it’s probably a youngling from the Jedi Temple,” Lathrum says. “Dear Obi-Wan, Today someone chose me to be their Padawan and I’m one step closer to being a Jedi Knight. How are your plants doing?”

“Yes, alright,” Obi-Wan shakes his head, smiling slightly. He had met Lathrum when he was fourteen and still bitterly disappointed about his new position at the AgriCorps, and Lathrum has never let him forget it even after all these years.

He sits down on his mattress and pulls out the letter. It’s short at least. The handwriting is atrocious but the spelling is worse.

Dear Obi-Wan,

Hi! My name is Anakin Skywalker. I am nine years old. How are you doing today? My master says I have to write this to practice my spelling. I think not everyone can learn Basic, but he says I have to and that all Jedi masters know how. I didn’t ever know there was all this stuff I have to do to be a Jedi. I’ve been here for weeks now and I still don’t have my lightsaber!

I think the temple is really weird. It’s so big and cold. I miss my friends back home. Me and Kitster would go crazy exploring this place but no one here wants to play with me. Master Jinn says not to worry and I’m not! The temple is just really big and I’m cold all the time and I miss my mom. Master Jinn found me on Tatooine and took me here to make me a Jedi which is great, but everyone here already knows each other and I don’t think they like me much. I know the Jedi Council doesn’t. They didn’t even want to train me but Master Jinn inzi--incis--said he would.

Do you want to be friends?

Would you explore the temple with me?

Write back soon please,

Anakin

“Well?” Kabre asks, when Obi-Wan finishes silently reading the letter.

Obi-Wan sighs and rubs a hand over the jagged penmanship. It’s all too obvious that this Anakin Skywalker is...painfully young, churlish and childish and achingly lonely.

Obi-Wan sighs again, harder, as he looks up at his bunkmates. “Where do we keep the blasted flimsi?”

---

Dear Anakin,

Thank you for your letter, it was very nice to read. My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m 25 years old. I hope you are settling in at the Temple better by the time this letter finds you. I have to admit I was very surprised to hear that you are nine years old and have been allowed to train to be a Jedi. That’s unheard of. I’m sure you’ll be an excellent Jedi. There must have been a reason your master chose you. The Force wills it and it will be.

It is understandable to miss your mother and your old home. When I became a member of the AgriCorps, I spent the first few months missing the Jedi temple on Coruscant a lot. It was the only home I ever had. But we make others as we go. The Temple is big and I suppose very cold compared to a desert planet--I looked up Tatooine here and there wasn’t much information, but I could never live somewhere with two suns! I’d be burned to a crisp in a matter of hours.

The upside to the Temple being big is that there are a lot of hiding spots and footholds for climbing. Try the pillars in the entrance hall. They connect to each other. My friends and I would run around on top of them for hours, although I think that was mostly because we were too scared to get down. You should ask Knight Eerin about it, or Knight Vos. They’re usually in the Mess Hall if not the Halls of Healing.

I’m sure Master Jinn has you busy with meditation and classes, but I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Best,

Obi-Wan Kenobi

---

Dear Obi-Wan,

I was really excited to get your letter! I didn’t know it would take so long but it’s been ages! So much stuff has happened. I finally finished my remedial classes and Master says we can focus more time of katas now! I can’t wait to learn how to fight! And Master Windu smiled at me the other day when he saw me in the hall because Master told him about my grades!

I asked Knight Eerin about you and she showed me some pictures she had on her datapad of you when you lived at the Temple. You look really pretty cool! I have blond hair and blue eyes if you were wondering. My mom always said she thought I was going to be really tall. What do you look like now? What do you do at the AgriCorps? Why did you leave the Temple? Knight Eerin says you need to give her a comm call soon. She didn’t sound very happy.

I made a friend! Knight Vos’ padawan was there when I talked to him about what you told me, and she came with me to go exploring! She’s so cool. She’s been helping me with my katas too.

Apparently I won’t get my lightsaber for years! That’s so long!

Anyway I have to go and do my reading now but please write back faster this time, Obi-Wan!

--Ani

----

Obi-Wan never reacts quite as happily and dramatically as Aldrin does when he sees a letter from Anakin on his bunk in the evenings, but over the years everyone learns not to disturb Obi-Wan on those nights.

The first letter Obi-Wan receives from Anakin after the boy turns eighteen includes his commlink frequency hastily crammed at the bottom of the page. If you want, Anakin has scribbled.

“Finally,” Obi-Wan jokes when the line connects and Anakin answers breathlessly. “No offense to you, dear one, and you have come quite a ways since you were a youngling, but your handwriting is still atrocious. I’d much rather talk to you like this than try to puzzle out what you’ve written.”

Anakin splutters and then stutters out in a voice slower and deeper than Obi-Wan had expected, “I didn’t know you had an accent, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan finds that he likes that voice saying his name in that way.

That’s the first sign of trouble.

----

Anakin sends a photo of his knighting ceremony. Obi-Wan wants to cry with pride. His friends tease him about it relentlessly. “You look like I did the day I married Susa,” Aldrin crows and takes a picture of Obi-Wan’s blushing, laughing face. Later, Obi-Wan reluctantly sends it to Anakin.

“I’m jealous of your friends,” Anakin confesses with an exhale of static. “They get to see you everyday.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says, unable to say more. Unable to admit that he’s thought the same thing about Anakin’s master at the Temple. Unable to deny it though.

They move onto safer topics, ones that make Obi-Wan’s chest feel less tight.

----

“Jedi Knights are forbidden to have romantic attachments,” Kabre tells him apropos of nothing one late evening when they’re leaning against the railings of their cabin.

Obi-Wan doesn’t even try to pretend to not know what his friend is talking about. Anakin is twenty-three now. They call each other as often as possible, whenever they have enough free time. Thinking about Anakin, somewhere out in the galaxy, makes Obi-Wan feel dangerous things. Dangerous, insidious, illogical things.

“Yes,” he agrees.

“Everything you’ve ever told me about this boy makes me think he’s in love with you,” Kabre says. “And the way you tell it makes me think you’re in love with him too.”

“Kabre, I…”

“I’m not asking you to deny it to me, Obi-Wan. You don’t need to defend yourself. You know no one cares if you’ve gone and fallen in love with your flimsi friend. It happens. And Force knows there’s no way you could be more insufferable than Aldrin and Susa.”

“He’s a Jedi Knight, Kabre,” Obi-Wan looks away, off over the fields. “I know what that means.”

----

When Anakin is twenty-four, Obi-Wan walks into his room to see a letter on his pillow. He blinks in surprise. He hasn’t gotten a letter since they petered out in favor of comm calls with Anakin.

But he’d recognize that handwriting anywhere.

He sits down to read it.

Dear Obi-Wan,

I find myself growing weary of Knighthood. I love my Padawan, I love the missions, I love the fighting. But I love something else more. I have for almost as long as I can remember.

I’ve been looking through the old letters from you. I’ve kept them all. I know Jedi should not have material attachments, but I found that I could no more throw them away than give my lightsaber to a Sith. They make up our story.

You were the first friend I ever had at the Temple. I don’t quite think you realized that then, and you may not even realize it now. But you were. I would get a letter from you and feel warm for weeks afterwards.

Actually, everything I love about the Temple and the Jedi you gave to me. My friends now, indirectly. All the hiding spots. Moving meditation.

When I got my kyber crystal, I wanted to tell you before anyone else. When my Padawan braid was cut, I gave it to my master, but wished I had something I could give to you too.

That was the day I really admitted to myself that you already have all of me.

Obi-Wan, I’m in love with you. I love you more every time we talk. Disengaging the comms at the end of the night hurts like losing my hand all over again. I love you, I love you.

And I have been a coward about it for too many years. I was afraid that you would reject me, think me too rash and young and foolish. But I know what I want. You told me in one of your letters that you believed I lived off of a single-minded desire to achieve my goals and that I would let nothing stand in the way.

I do not plan on starting now, if you will have me that is. I dream of nothing more than to feel your hands on my face, to listen to the sound of your heart beating in your chest.

I will not disrespect the ways of the Jedi by loving you quietly, when I know you are my deepest, strongest attachment. One that I will not shake, even if I lived to be as old as Master Yoda himself.

If you find that you feel the same way, I will leave the Jedi Order tomorrow and meet you on Bandomeer. If you do not, then I understand and will never speak of this again. I am something of an expert after all these years of loving you silently from afar.

Yours sincerely, yours always, yours completely,

Anakin

Obi-Wan traces the words with a shaking hand. He doesn’t know he’s crying until a tear falls onto the flimsi. Oh, Anakin. Oh, his brave, foolish Anakin.

Will he really be so selfish as to allow Anakin to leave his Knighthood for him? His padawan, his home?

But the knowledge that Anakin loves him is a heady, addictive feeling. Obi-Wan has never truly gotten the things he wants. He loves his life now, of course. But he hadn’t wanted it.

And he loves Anakin.

He loves him terribly.

He reaches for a piece of flimsi and a pen.

----

Anakin will be the first to admit he’s been in a foul mood for a few standard weeks now. He’d sent that letter to Obi-Wan--Force, why had he sent that letter to Obi-Wan, obviously the man will never want to talk to him again now--and then immediately Ahsoka and him had been called in for a mission.

It had been awful and disgusting. Anakin is covered in mud from head to toe, and his padawan doesn’t look any better. And worst of all, he had had no time at all to comm Obi-Wan. No time at all to see how the man had taken his confession. It feels like he’s been holding his breath for days.

But he’s at the Temple now. He can clean himself off and call Obi-Wan incessantly until the man answers. Anakin can’t keep living like this.

“Letter for you, Master,” Ahsoka says as he enters their quarters. She’d been sent ahead while Anakin had finished docking the ship, and now she’s sitting at the table perfectly clean.

Anakin thinks his heart stops at these words and then it starts beating as fast as it ever has before. “Where?”

“I put it on your bed,” Ahsoka peers up at him with a furrowed brow. “Are you okay, Skyguy? You look a bit--”

But Anakin’s gone, already tearing into his room. There on the bedspread is a letter. Obi-Wan’s written him a letter.

Anakin has to try opening it three times before he finally gets his fingers to cooperate. It’s very short.

Dearest One, Obi-Wan has written.

I’ll meet you here tomorrow on Bandomeer. I will be waiting.

Forever yours,

Obi-Wan

Anakin smiles and feels like he could cry or sing or dance or scream from all the joy that’s welled up in his chest at this small handful of words Obi-Wan has given him. They’re everything and more.

Mindful of the mud on his person, he puts the letter gently on his bed and walks back out to the common area. Ahsoka is right where he left her.

“Okay, now you just look scary,” she says, pointing a fork at him. “Stop smiling like that.”

Anakin lets his grin die. He won’t relish this next part, but it’s for Obi-Wan. It’s so he can be with Obi-Wan. It's necessary. “Snips,” he says, sitting down opposite her. “We need to talk.”

[lilysdaydreams]

For Them

→ Pairing : Corpse Husband X Fem!Reader

→ Genre : fluff.

→ Warnings : Swearing, Reader panicking a bit.

→ Request : Heya! I was thinking maybe a corpse x reader where the reader is playing among us with him and the gang and they use the proximity mic and he walks past her to hear her singing and she’s kept her singing like a MAJOR secret because she’s shy about it- idk you don’t have to do it if ya don’t feel like it it’s just an idea 💛

→ A/N : Oh my god, did Lily finally finish writing something??? YES SHE DID. Pretty happy with this, so I hope you guys enjoy as well! Sorry for any spelling mistakes :) Requests are open!

~~~

You grabbed the water on the table, moving to the side and out of the camera to quickly take a few sips. You could hear the rest of the group still yelling about the previous game. You laughed quietly hearing Peter and Rae yell at each other.

Looking over at chat you hummed as you took  in the questions.

"How much longer am I streaming?" you read out the question.

"Probably a few more games. Maybe like 30 more minutes. I wanna go get dinner soon." you mumbled as you kept on scanning the chat.

A random question caught your eye.

"Do I sing?" you read out with a laugh.

"Wow, that's such a random question oh my god. Um, I used to want to be a singer when I was a kid," you started leaning back in your chair. You looked at the ceiling reminiscing and chuckled when you remembered the concerts you used to throw for your parents.

"I used to get my parents to be the audience and I would sing all my different songs for them. When they weren't free, I would do it for all of my plushies on my bed. Oh my god, I probably have old videos in the basement or something."

You smiled wistfully, looking back onto the screen.

"Those were good times," you muttered.

Looking back onto chat, your eyes widened at the amount of  "SING FOR US" messages.

"Woah guys, calm down, that was when I was a kid. I don't sing seriously you know that right?" you questioned, laughing at how fast the chat was going.

"Okay okay," you said smiling when they didn't stop. "Lemme ju- Oh wait" you cut yourself off seeing the words "IMPOSTER" light up your screen.

"LETS GOOOOO" you yelled, turning your mic on again for the game. Everyone's voice slowly faded as people went different ways. You  stuck with Lily, both of you going straight to medbay.

"Lilyyyyy" you said dragging her name out.

"Y/N" she said doing the same to you.

You giggled, and asked her if she had med scan.

"Nope, I have the inspecting the sample one."

"Ohh okay," you said getting on the med scan and pretending to scan. You watched as Lily finished her task, saying a quiet "bye" and rushing off to the next task.

You sighed, moving off the scan and starting to walk towards weapons. "Lily's so nice, I'm so glad I got to meet her through this. Like, she's the absolute sweetest I swear, I'm hoping that I get to m-" you got cut off by a body being reported.

"Already?" you asked, others echoing. You gasped when you saw who was killed, immediately whining about how someone could kill Sykunno, while playfully glaring at Sean's name, who was the other imposter.

"Okay, so the body was at reactor," revealed Rae.

"I was in the cafeteria, going towards weapons. Me and Lily were in Medbay before but she left before me," you said leaning back.

Lily confirmed this, also stating that she was in weapons now.

Sean, Corpse and Felix all said they were in Electrical, and Poki said she'd been in storage.

You looked at the chat again, not saying anything while the rest said where they were.

The chat was still spamming "Sing please!" and you looked back to the game without giving an answer. If you were being honest, then what you had said before was a lie. You still sang. Hell, it had been your dream to release your songs ever since you started writing at 15. You had started singing by singing for your parents. Ever since their car crash though, you couldn't even think about  performing for anyone else. If you couldn't even  perform for them, then what was the point? For some reason, whenever you thought of  singing in front of someone, you couldn't even get the words out.

You sighed and skipped voting as the timer ticked down. No one was ejected and you started humming slightly as you moved away from everyone.

"Hmm should I sing you a song everyone?" you asked your voice very low. You breathed deeply reminding yourself that technically no one was in the room with you, and it was only your fans watching, a small community of people who were the sweetest you had ever seen.

Going into reactor and moving down to the very end so that no one could see you, you breathed in deeply and started singing lightly, noticing that the lights were off, the blinking arrow in the corner of your screen.

"I think we could do it if we tried

If only to say you're mine

Sofia, know that you and I

Shouldn't feel like a crime

You know I'll do anything you ask me to

But oh my God, I think I'm in love with you

Standin' here alone now, think that we -"

"Y/N what the fuck your voice is -"

You screamed before the person could even finish what they were saying, hitting the "kill" button without even realising, and letting out a gasp when you saw the black body flop over.

"Oh god, oh my god, what did I do?" you whispered staring at Corpses body, half of your brain freaking out over the fact that he had heard you and the other freaking out what to do. You quickly vented, coming out in electrical and pretending to do the download.

"Oh my god, guys!" you whispered furiously, playfully glaring at the camera. "This is all your fault, do you see what I did, I killed someone with my singing... I just got so scared because he came out of absolutely NOWHERE, oh my god guys." Leaving electrical, you heard someone yelling and headed closer to them laughing nervously when you found Toast and Sean yelling at each other.

"Hey guys," you said voice being unnoticed because of all the yelling and you moved into comms pretending to do a task there.

Just as you did that, Pokis body was found, and you gasped as you realised that Sean had killed three people so now there were 5 left. Toast was dead, which means that he just died, which left Sean, you, Rae, Lily and Leslie.

There was a stunned silence for a second as everyone took in the 4 kills and then Rae immediately  attacked.

"Ahh, the body was in cafeteria. Like bottom cafeteria."

"Um, So I just wanna add something, I was coming from the electrical right, and I was walking to comms, and Toast just passed in the middle of storage. I came into comms and Sean is here as well.

"Yup, shes right, toast just left and she came in." confirmed Sean.

"Well, I saw Leslie at the start of the round, we stuck together and then I was with Poki for a bit."

"Yeah okay, but where were you?"

"Well, I went to weapons then I went down into comms and storage and then I went electrical when lights were called and everyone was ther-" she said cutting herself off and gasping.  “Guess who WASNT there? Y/N wasn’t there!”

“Well yeah, I just thought someone else would do it” you replied. “I was all the way in upper engine and I couldn’t be bothered. You all did lights and I was doing my tasks in reactor and then I went to electrical and then I was waking to comms, and then I saw toast and then I got into comma and saw Sean. Even if I was the imposter and killed Toast, I definitely couldn’t have been able to kill Poki.”

“Yeah no, I still think it’s you,” said Rae after a pause, Leslie and Lily both giggling at her.

Lily chimed in then as well, “Yeah I haven’t seen y/n this whole round at ALLLLL, so I think its her as well."

Ignoring your protests, they all voted you out, and you shrugged at the camera as your character was thrown off the  ship.

"I think I'm okay with that guys, I was way too nervous to still play," you muttered, now looking at the chat.

"Guys," you whined suddenly remembering. "I was only meant to sing for you, I didn't want anyone else to hear it, Corpse literally came out of nowhere. I hope he wasn't deafened by my screeching," you grimaced.

The word "Victory" came onto your screen and you huffed out  a laugh as the lobby exploded with noise.

"Lily! I told you it was Sean!" exclaimed Rae.

"Sean was on a killing spree," you added in, sipping your water. "I only killed like two people cuz I was distracted, I swear he literally carried the whole game.”

“He backstabbed me!” said Sykkuno and you could hear the smile in his voice. “I was doing upload while he was right next to me and we were talking about how great this group was and he just killed me right there!”

Suddenly all the attention was on Sykkuno as everyone started cooing.

“Awww, Sykkuno, did you just compliment us?” Rae yelled, lots of other chiming in to tease Sykunno and him ending up stuttering because he got flustered.

“Alright guys,” you said when everyone quieted down. "I think I'm gonna go now."

"NOOOOO" yelled Rae, everyone else echoing her.

You smiled and quickly said your goodbyes, logging off the game and quickly saying bye to the viewers and ending that as well.

Slumping into your chair, your breath quickened. "Oh my god," you whispered, the realization creeping up on you that you had just sung in front of nearly ten thousand people and that Corpse had heard you sing. You and Corpse had met through Among Us with Toast inviting you to the lobby. You had fun playing with him and you'd both followed each other, but most of your interaction was in games. Like sure you'd messaged each other a few times but those were only brief conversations! and sure, maybe you had a small tiny crush on the guy but like WHO WOULDNT? He was sweet, nice and you related to him a lot. The point was, you were absolutely not ready to sing in front of him. You stood up from the chair and went to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water to calm down.

Your phone rang and you grabbed it from the counter, choking on the water as you saw that it was from Corpse.

He had never called you before. Like you said you simply weren't that close.

Coughing out a "What the fuck?" you answered the call, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Hey," you said, confused when there was no sound.

"Uh yeah, Hi Y/N. Its Corpse."

"Ah yeah, I see." You facepalmed yourself, rubbing your forehead. What the fucks was wrong with you.

"Um yeah, so uh I just- You know in the game? Um I kind of - well - I kind of heard you singing, um um, that song."

You stilled, not a breath coming out of you.

"Your voice, its -" he paused, letting out a huge breath. "It's absolutely beautiful."

You opened your mouth not even sure what you were gonna say but he continued talking.

"I just, I cant get it out of my mind. Have you heard some of my music?"

"Um yeah, I-I listened to it when I first heard about you. Your songs are so good!" you exclaimed, finally being able to move your mouth

"Do you think maybe we could do a song together sometime? Your voice would be absolutely amazing on one of the tracks I'm currently working on, its a chill one that I have, kind of like Agoraphobic," he asked, rambling through the sentence.

"Um, Oh my god," you muttered, still confused on if this was actually happening. "Yeah, Yeah definitely that would be so cool."

"Oh. Oh that's great, I-I didn't think you'd agree, that's great, I can send you a sample and the lyrics but -"

"Um," you started cutting him off. "If I'm being honest," you muttered, shoulders coming up to your ears. "I'm actually really conscious about my singing. Like this was the absolute first time I ever even sang on stream, so like sorry- I'm ruining it, but this is just a bit overwhelming for me. It's a great opportunity, and if you want I can definitely try but please don't have big expectations of me okay?" you asked biting your lip slightly. "I'm not that great."

There was a second of silence and then he whispered lightly, "Even if you don't believe it, just from those 30 seconds, I could already tell how amazing your voice was."

Your breath caught but a second later he had already moved on.

"If you want to, we could do a few singing sessions together? Just mess around have some fun? That way you can get a bit more comfortable and have some fun," he suggested, voice changing to a shy one that you hadn't ever heard from him.

~~~

"Yeah sure," you agreed, smiling. "Lets try that."

3 months later, you guys finally released your song. Titled "For Them", you sang about your parents who you had loved dearly, and he sang about his parents and their distant relationship. It showed two different perspectives, two different stories, two different lives, and you both loved it so much.

The song was a success, with fans pouring into your channel and small community and well, your life. Most importantly though, along with all of it, came a mask-wearing man, who held you on the days that it was hard for you, and who you held on the nights that were hard for him.

fin.

[silkling]

Could you please write a crossover of Rescue Bots and TFP? Rather than dying on the Nemesis, a critically injured Dreadwing fleas and crash lands on Griffin Rock. The Rescue Bots find him and nurse him back to health, not realizing he’s a Decepticon because his markings got scratched up in the fight. Dreadwing wakes up while the Rescue Bots are trying to contact Team Prime, but can’t since, unbeknownst to them, they’re all on Cybertron, fighting the Cons for the Omega Keys and Omega Lock.

So, this one turned out to be much, much longer than I thought. So long, in fact, that I had to divide it into three posts. The second post will be linked at the bottom of this one, and the third will be linked at the bottom of the second. Dear god, apparently I had a lot of more thoughts about Rescue Bots than even I was aware of. Oh well. Either way, I hope everyone enjoys! (FYI: most prompt fills will not be this long. This one was just so long cause I have many emotions and ideas about this scenario.)

———————————————————————————————————

Dreadwing felt the betrayal of Lord Megatron as surely as if it were just as physical a wound as the hole blown through his chest. He had heard the weapon powering up, and his war-forged battle instincts had had him diving to the side just as the fusion canon had fired. It has still torn though his chest, but rather than destroy his spark chamber the blast had torn a hole straight through the right side of his chest near his shoulder. He lived yet, but if he could not escape the Nemesis that would not be the case for much longer.

He had served Lord Megatron with loyalty and honor for millennia, ever since he and his brother had joined the Decepticons after Vos had fallen. Dreadwing had sold his very spark to the Unmaker to act on the wishes and orders of his leader, and this is what his loyalty had earned him? Megatron attempting to offline him, and protecting the mech who had desecrated his brother? The same mech who had, countless times before, betrayed Megatron himself? Dreadwing could scarcely understand it. Why would Megatron spare Starscream, who had given the warlord no true loyalty, when Dreadwing himself had been nothing but loyal? Is this what his loyalty bought him, among the Decepticons? Dishonorably killed solely for attempting to avenge his brother by killing a traitorous coward?

If so, he wanted nothing to do with it.

He dragged himself down the halls, finally making it to the flight deck, and looked down to see the ship flying above the ocean. Rather than attempt a proper take off, he simply pitched his body forward off the edge and allowed himself to fall. As he neared the water, he forced a transformation, ignoring the agony of the action, and his engine roared to life. Lucid thought slipped away, then, as baser survival coding took over and guided him away from the warship, away from danger, away from what would have been his death.

Only one thing was certain, now.

In attacking Dreadwing to protect Starscream, Megatron had lost the loyalty of his most devoted frontline warrior.

Dreadwing simply refused to follow a mech who would protect the one who desecrated his brother.

And so, survival protocols overriding every other thought or higher system, the large Seeker allowed his higher processor functions to shut off. His mind quieted to blissful silence. Instinct alone drove him forward, flying towards a destination even he did not know. He could only hope it would be somewhere safe.

——————————

Blades didn’t know what he was expecting when he went on a walk along the beach, but it most certainly wasn’t a large Cybertronian lying in in the sand, looking like he’d crashed landed and resting lifeless on patch of sand soaked with energon. Technically, the copter wasn’t even supposed to be out here, as Sigma-17 had to maintain their cover, but everything at the firehouse had just been several kinds of too much that morning, so he had, for once, flown off on his own and landed on a beach he knew no humans ever really came to, intent to just take a walk and clear his head.

Except, upon coming around a bend, he’d found the aforementioned Cybertronian. For a moment, he’d simply frozen, but then the instinct ingrained by his training kicked in and he sprung into action. See, Blades was a trained and licensed triage medic. He couldn’t perform complex surgeries or anything on the level of a proper medic, but in the Rescue Academy on Cybertron he’d taken the courses for field level medical aid so that, if he’d ever run into someone during a rescue who’d been hurt, he could treat them and keep them alive until they could get to a medical facility. The training g had been fun, especially when he’d studied with-

He shook his head roughly before that thought could complete itself. He didn’t want to think about the time….Before. It hurt, remembering what and who he’d lost during his millennia of stasis. Before he could fall back into grief, training snapped back into place and his processor quieted. He knelt next to the fallen Cybertronian, noting that they were a Seeker frame, and carefully turned the bot over. His next thought was an observation that the bot was a mech, and that the energon soaking into the sand under his frame was spilling from a large hole torn straight through his chest. That meant the first thing he needed to do was seal the leaking lines to keep him from losing more energon. After that, he could call Heatwave. He didn’t have the skills to patch this wound up fully. Once he’d made sure this mech wouldn’t die here and now, he would need to get him to proper care. One of the stasis pods would certainly help, though if they wanted the wound healed fully he’d need to be in the pod for a while. The other alternative was contacting Optimus. Blades knew the Prime had a proper medic on his team, which might be the better option.

As his processor raced, trying to think of a plan, his hands worked on autopilot. He slipped the tools he needed from his subspace, cleaning and removing grime where it was needed to prevent infection, removing bits of sand and stone from the wound, and using a small welder to seal off the free-flowing energon lines. He covered loose, sparking wires and circuits, , rerouting a few of them in places where it was needed. Finally, after many long minutes, he finished and sat back on his heels.

It was then the helicopter realized his comm. was pinging with an alert for an incoming message, and had been for quite some time. In fact, it seemed he’d missed several messages. From Heatwave, Chase, Boulder, Dani, the Chief, Cody…Pit, even Graham had sent him a message. Embarrassment and guilt settled heavy in his chest, and he lifted his hand to his audial to accept the current call. As soon as his comm. clicked to life, Dani’s voice was coming through it.

“Blades! Finally! Where are you? We’ve all been worried sick, you know.” his partner scolded. Blades couldn’t help the small smile that twisted his lips upwards. It was nice knowing she cared. He loved Dani dearly. She was family, after all. “You know you’re not supposed to even be out of the firehouse on your own, you idiot bot!” she continued, her voice holding an undercurrent of worry despite the insult. Blades didn’t take it personally. “What if someone had seen you? You need to-“

And now that was enough. “Dani.” he interrupted her, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I’m sorry for ignoring you and everyone else, but right now there’s a bigger emergency than me risking our cover. I found an inured bot on that small beach behind the mountain. You know, the one no one likes to go to because the hike is too long? He’s in a really bad way. I have triage training, and I’ve patched him up, but he needs either a stasis pod or a proper medic, as close to immediately as possible.”

There was silence on the other end, before-

“Alright. I’ll tell everyone to come to your location. I’m with Dad and Chase right now. We all split up to look for you, but we’ll meet you there. Don’t move, and keep the bot alive.” Dani instructed. Despite himself, Blades was smiling again. Yes, he really did love Dani. She knew when it was time to get serious. He had a feeling he’d be forgiven for his blunder today, given the circumstances.

“Will do. I’ll see you soon.”

“Just hang tight, partner. And stay out of trouble.”

“You too.” he chirped, hands still working over the bot to patch up his more minor wounds now that the life-threatening one was dealt with. “And Dani?”

“Yeah, Blades?”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then her voice came though, softer and fonder.

“Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing.”

Then the comm. line cut off, and Blades was left alone to in the silence. He let his processor drift, kneeling in the energon soaked sand as he worked on saving the life of a bot whose name he didn’t even know.

——————————

Chase was worried. He knew Blades was more capable than the others thought he was, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. He hadn’t been surprised when the copter bot had left the firehouse that morning. He’d seen the way he had held his rotors tight to his spinal strut, seen the way he’d fidgeted around the others, seen the way his optics had slipped and gone dull and distant. He knew today was not a good day for Blades, so his disappearance had not been a surprise. He’d been mildly concerned, simply because he did not know if Blades would be able to avoid being seen in his more distracted state, but he hadn’t been too worried. Still, when Heatwave had insisted on going to track down their rogue teammate, he hadn’t protested. He’d even offered to let Dani ride with him and the Chief to make things simpler.

But then Blades had finally picked up Dani’s comm. and that was when he started to worry. A strange bot, found injured on Griffin Rock? It raised many questions. Where had they come from? Who where they? How had they been injured? Chase wasn’t worried that the bot would die. He knew Blades had triage training, so he was confident his teammate would be able to keep his unexpected patient alive. Even so, this new development raised many questions that Chase did not have the answers to, and that was what worried him. There were not many Cybertronians on Earth, he knew. Aside from Sigma-17, there was Team Prime, and….the Decepticons. As far as Chase was aware, and he admittedly did not know as much as he would like, there were no unaligned bots on the planet.

Which meant this newcomer was either one of Prime’s team, a Decepticon, or he had crash landed on the island from space and wasn’t attached to either faction. It would be easy enough to confirm; they simply had to contact Prime and ask if he was missing a teammate, and if not ask if he recognized the bot in question. If this stranger was a neutral party or an Autobot, Chase knew there would be nothing to worry about. But if they were a Decepticon…well, that was the root of the police bot’s concerns. Sigma-17 was a rescue team. They knew rudimentary combat skills, enough to defend themselves or those they were rescuing in an emergency, but they were non-combatants. By the standards of the War, his team would be classified as civilians. If this new Cybertronian was a Decepticon…Chase wasn’t sure they’d be able to protect Griffin Rock, this time. He wasn’t sure they’d even be able to protect themselves.

Before he could slip even further into his own processor, they arrived at the coordinates Blades had sent. His snapped into focus, his doors popping open to allow his passengers out, and then he was transforming and walking over to where he could see Blades. As he approached his friend, he heard Boulder and Heatwave pull up behind him and transform. Blades looked up from his work when his three teammates stopped next to him, and Chase was mildly disconcerted to see the amount of energon soaking the sand and coating the copter’s hands.

“Blades, what happened?” Heatwave demanded, voice rough.

“I don’t know.” he shrugged helplessly. “I came out here for some space and to take a walk, cause I know this beach is practically abandoned, and I just found him like this.”

Indeed, this close, Chase could see that the mystery bot was in fact a mech. That answered one question, but none of the others. How irritating. It was also making him very nervous and queasy to see just how badly injured the very, very large bot was. Boulder too, seemed to feel ill at the sight of such horrible wounds and so much energon. Distantly, Chase noted that the bot might be even bigger than High Tide. He had no idea how they were supposed to get him back to the firehouse.

Heatave made a frustrated noise, clearly displeased with the lack of information though he knew Blades was not to blame. “Well can you tell how he got so injured?”

“A weapon of some sort, though not one I’ve ever seen the damage of before.” Blades said, frowning. His processor was clearly working hard, trying to turn over the facts he knew to figure out the bigger picture. “There’s also signs of older damage. I can’t be 100% sure, but I think this bot is, or maybe was, involved in the War.”

Heatwave paused, seeming more wary with this new information. “…can you tell which side?”

“No. Any faction identifier or badge has been destroyed or scraped off like most of his paint. I can only just figure out what his colors are supposed to be, and even them only barely.”

Chase could tell that Heatwave was annoyed, but the fire truck only grumbled his curses under his breath before sighing. “Alright. What do we need to do?”

Blades startled, looking surprised. “You’re asking me?”

“Of course.” Chase cut in before Heatwave could snap something rude and further stress the already clearly frazzled helicopter. “You are the triage medic here. Protocol dictates that, in the absence of a full medic, any medical decisions would fall to the next available medical expert. In this case, that would be you.”

Blades blinked a few times, before shaking himself and sitting up straighter. “Like I said earlier, he needs a stasis pod. Badly. I don’t have the ability to fix him completely, my training only covered keeping patients alive until they could get to someone who could repair them fully. The only one on planet I know who might be able to help is Optimus’s medic. He can also heal completely in one of our stasis pods, but it would take longer than just asking Optimus for help.”

Heatwave grunted. “Got it. He needs a stasis pod now, and a medic later. We can do that.”

That seemed to be enough to startle Boulder into awareness, and the bulldozer jumped before nodding and turning to Heatwave. “Graham and I can figure out a way to transport him safely. Though we’ll need your help, Blades. You have a better understanding of his condition than us.”

The copter nodded, and Chase let that be his que to retreat to back to where the humans were waiting. Apparently, they didn’t want to get too close in case their presence caused an issue with the unknown bot’s care.

“Well?” Chief asked. “How’s our newest guest?

“Unwell.” Chase said succinctly. “He is severely injured and appears to be involved in the War in some fashion, though it is impossible to tell for which side. We are going to transport him to the firehouse in order to put him into a stasis pod so that he may heal. Graham, I believe Boulder requires your assistance in that respect.” he said, directing the last part to the engineer.

Graham nodded, making no protest as he jogged forward towards his partner, Boulder already turning and crouching to begin discussing plans. Dani followed him quickly, though she split from his path to join Blades, clambering up onto his leg and patting his canopy as she shot him a reassuring smile.

It was here that Kade made his own opinion known. “Hey hey hey, let’s slow down!” he protested. “You just said you don’t know what side this guy’s on, and you want to bring him back home? We can’t do that! Why can’t Blades just fix him here and we can send him on his way?”

Chase tilted his head. “Blades is a licensed triage medic. He does not have the training necessary to fully repair him. Besides, even if he did, I do not believe it would be wise to simply ‘send him on his way’, and you said. If he truly is a Decepticon, then doing so would risk leading the entirety of the Decepticon army right here to Griffin Rock.”

Kade froze, seeming suddenly queasy. “Oh.”

Chief sighed. “Fair point, partner. I agree we can’t just leave him or let him die. It wouldn’t be right, even if he isn’t on our side. But for safety’s sake, would it be possible to keep him unconscious until we can confirm his identity with Optimus?”

Chase nodded. “Indeed, Chief. I believe that is the current plan. As soon as he is safely in a stasis pod, we will attempt to contact Optimus. With luck, we can have this matter sorted by the end of today.”

“Good.” Chief smiled. “Then let’s get to work.”

“Agreed.”

Chase returned to his team, Chief and Kade following at his heel, to find they had come up with a plan to transport the unknown Cybertronian. Working together, the rescue team was able to get the large flight-frame settled into a make-shift trailer the engineer duo had thrown together, and after hitching it to Boulder’s vehicle mode the whole group made their way to the firehouse using the tunnels in order to avoid being seen. Barring Blades, of course, who instead flew straight to base with Dani in order to prepare a stasis pod.

By the time Chase and the others arrived, the pod was set up and open to admit the unknown mech. It took all four of Sigma-17 working together to lift him into it, but then the glass door was sliding shut and frost soon hid the bot from view as the stasis function of the pod took affect. Now, all that was left was for Blades to clean himself up, and for Heatwave to contact Optimus about their guest.

Chase just hoped this development didn’t come back to bite them.

——————————

Dreadwing woke to the hiss of an unfamiliar system disengaging and onlined his optics to see icy mist billowing to the floor as a glass door slid up from in front of him. A stasis pod? That was odd. The Nemesis had no stasis pods and he knew the Autobots did not have the means to maintain or build one either. He was also not aware there were any other Cybertronians on the planet. So where was he, and how had he gotten into a stasis pod? The last thing he remembered was fleeing the Nemesis, although….he did have very vague, hazy memories of a crash. Had he been discovered and saved before he could offline? If so, he would have to thank his unexpected savior. Unless, of course, it was an Autobot and he had only been saved so he could be locked away. If that was the case, a bot was going to die here today and it would not be him.

The stasis pod fully disengaged from him, and he was able to step out and onto the floor. He glanced down at himself, humming idly. It seemed that he had been fully repaired either before or while in the pod. That was good for him. He looked around, frowning at his odd surroundings. The location he was in had medical supplies, but was clearly no full medical bay. Perhaps it was only set up for emergencies, then? His wings twitched when he picked up the sound of pede steps beyond the doorway, and his gaze turned towards the sound. After a moment, he realized whoever it was wasn’t coming towards him, but rather they seemed to be…pacing? Yes, that is what it sounded like. Curiosity piqued, Dreadwing strode towards the door, making sure his own steps were quiet so as not to alert the other to his presence. He stepped though, looking around…and his optics blew wide.

It was a youngling. A small, orange and white helicopter bot was pacing back and forth in tight circles in the center of the room. Dreadwing was willing to bet that this little flyer was even younger than the Autobot scout. As the mechling turned to pace in another circle, the Seeker caught sight of the emblem on his chest. At first, he saw only a badge similar to the Autobot brand and his frame began to stiffen. Then the rest of the badge processed in his mind and his vents froze.

The Rescue Bot insignia.

This tiny little flying mechling was a Rescue Bot. But how? Megatron had seen to the destruction of the Rescue Bot headquarters in the early days of the war, and had sent his soldiers to systematically hunt down and offline any who had survived the initial attack or had not been present during it. Dreadwing and his brother had joined the Decepticons after massacre, but it was one the only acts the Decepticons had committed that they had wholly disapproved off. The Rescue Bots had been unaffiliated with any faction. They took an oath of neutrality, a vow to save any and every life they could regardless who who or what that life was. Megatron had wanted them gone because he’d wanted to make a statement, but also because he wanted to deny the Autobots any potential allies or any aid that the Rescue Bots would have given them.

It had been a great loss, and had been one of the reasons Dreadwing had initially wished to avoid choosing one side or the other. The Decepticons, in his mind, took things too far. The Autobots, while more restrained, had initially risen from the regime in which he and his brother had suffered under. But then….Vos had fallen, and word had spread that his city’s destruction had been the doing of the Autobots. He and Skyquake had been forced to pick a side, then. He’d gotten over his hesitance at the Decepticon methods and given Lord Megatron his undying loyalty. And now…he was here, betrayed by the one who he as sworn himself to, watching a youngling Rescue Bot pace in nervous circles. It was something that should have been impossible.

Suddenly, the mechling froze, and wide amber optics turned to him. Idly, Dreadwing realized he must have made some noise, and then the little copter was yelping and scrabbling back. He paused, then hurried forward, his hands fluttering as if unsure what to do. Before the little one got too close, Dreadwing locked his own sharp, red optics onto him, and the bot froze in place with a startled yip.

For a long moment, there was only silent staring.

——————————

Blades was pacing. There wasn’t much else he could do. The day they had brought back the large Seeker, Heatwave had contacted Optimus. Only, the Prime had very quickly shut him down, explaining they were busy with an issue of “upmost importance” and that he would return their contact when he was able to. That had been three weeks ago, and he hadn’t called back. The Seeker was still in stasis, and Heatwave was once against attempting to make contact, for the 15th day in a row. Chase and the Chief were on patrol, and Boulder and the other humans were at Blossom Vale, having a picnic. Blades had opted to remain behind, wanting to keep an eye on the Seeker.

In the time since finding the large mech, Blades had done some research. He’d had to dig around the Sigma’s files, and dig through the files of the computer that connected them to Optimus, as well as dig through the various data-pads that had been left to them by High Tide and Optimus. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that he’d been able to piece together information about the War that the Prime hadn’t been telling them. Now, Blades understood why the War had started. The civil unrest had been a thing even before Sigma-17 had been formed, when he was still in the early days of training, it had been mild, then, but it had been there. So he wasn’t surprised that it had grown worse, especially if the root causes of the unrest hadn’t ever been addressed.

He also knew, from the information he’d dug up in his search, that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers had joined the Decepticons. Which meant that his patient was, in all likelihood, a Decepticon himself. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But he hadn’t told the others his suspicions. Mostly because…something about the situation was odd. Optimus didn’t strike him as the type of mech who would inflict or approve of that type of wound being inflicted on a mech. So unless he had someone on his team who was excessively violent and he couldn’t control, Blades didn’t see that wound coming from the Autobots. Which meant it had come from the Decepticons. Of course, that only raised more questions. Namely, why would they do that to one of their own, if the mech really was a ‘Con? He wanted to get answers before he shared his suspicions. He didn’t want to condemn the Seeker to anything bad if he was wrong.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t been all he had learned, in the past few weeks. In one of the data pads High Tide had left about the early days of the war, there had been a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force”. It had just been a mention, a reference to an event that was probably detailed in a separate data pad. But he hadn’t ever found that separate data pad. And when he remembered What Optimus had said, when he’d first found them..”

“I was not aware Rescue Teams were…still active.”

He’d said it slowly, haltingly, as if choosing the words carefully. He’d paused before saying the last part too. At the time, Blades hadn’t thought much of it. But with the information about the War Optimus had allowed them to have, and the mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in that one data pad, well…Blades was starting to think that “active” had not been the word that the Prime had actually meant. Something had happened, something he didn’t have enough information to figure out yet, but the faint picture he was starting to get from the pieces of information he did have wasn’t one he liked. It was another reason he was hesitant to share what he suspected about the Seeker. Optimus was keeping vital information from Sigma-17. He didn’t care if the Prime didn’t want them fighting in the War. He agreed that it was a bad idea. But he was withholding information that Blades suspected his team would very much want, and they didn’t even know it.

So here he was, pacing restlessly as his processor turned over the information he got, unsure how or even if he should share it. Would his team even believe him? He doubted they would. He knew they thought he was silly and couldn’t understand complex ideas, but that was far from the truth. After all, of all the Rescue Bots he had the greatest understanding of human nature and culture. His understanding wasn’t always 100% accurate, and just because he understand the what didn’t mean he understand the why, but he still understood more than any of the others. And sure, he applied most of his ability to learn new information to pop culture rather than the things the others might consider more “worthwhile”, but that was only because pop culture was more fun. Plus, pop culture was where humanity really displayed they way they ticked. Did it really make him that much of an idiot if all that was the case?

He was startled from his spiraling thoughts by a sound from the direction of the make-shift medical bay. The copter glanced in that direction, thinking it was one of his teammates, only to yelp and leap back upon seeing the Seeker. He’d known the other bot was large, but seeing him awake and up just confirmed how large. The red optics too, made discomfort curl in Blade’s tanks. The data-pads had suggested that red optics were typical of Decepticons, though they shouldn’t be used as an identifier of such. Even so, it was another tick in favor of his theory. Then the scene caught up to him, and medical training overrode his temporary moment of panic.

This bot wasn’t supposed to be up yet. In fact, even if he had been fully healed by the pods it was supposed to keep him under until Optimus could arrive. Except….Blades must have put in the settings wrong. He was so used to setting the stasis pods to release once the healing process was complete that he must have input that setting without realizing it. Which…presented a problem. Is this mech was hostile, he didn’t think his team could handle it. Those thoughts circled in the back of his processor as he directed the bulk of his worry towards making sure his patient was alright. His hands flapped awkwardly as he approached the larger flyer, ready to skim over his frame to check out his condition, when piercing red optics locked onto him. He froze with a high pitched squeak, his own optics blown wide as that gaze pinned him in place.

For a long moment, the two Cybertronians merely stared at each other.

Then Blades, getting increasingly nervous, broke the silence. “Are you okay?” he asked, curling and tucking his hands against his canopy. “The stasis pod should have healed you completely, but you were hurt pretty bad. Even most of your paint was gone, though it looks like your color nanintes were able to fix that while you were healing.”

Indeed, the mech standing in front of him was now in full color, his purple and yellow paint bold and bright on his frame. It did seem, however, that he was still missing a faction brand. If he’d ever had one, of course, though the copter strongly suspected he did.

The Seeker seemed put off for a moment, as if he didn’t know why Blades was worried. “I am well.” he said carefully. “Are you the one who repaired me?”

“Well, sort of?” Blades’s rotors fluttered against his back. “I’m a triage medic, so I couldn’t fix you completely, but I kept you online until my team and I could get you into a pod.”

The Seeker narrowed his eyes. “Team?” he repeated, obviously suspicious.

Blades squeaked again, shoulders hunching. “We’re Rescue Bots.” he gestured at his insignia before his hands tucked back against his canopy. “Team Sigma-17. I’m Blades.”

The Seeker was silent for a long moment. “You may call me Dreadwing.” he said slowly. His gaze was still piercing.

Blades nodded, then took a few steps forward, and when Dreadwing made no move to stop him, he closed the gap between them. “Do you mind if I scan you over one last time? I just want to be sure all your systems are in order.”

The Seeker bowed his helm, and Blades lifted his hands to skim over plating, using his built in scanning systems he’d gotten in his triage training to check his patient over. Everything was coming back fine, but with a wound as serious as his had been Blades away taking no chances.

“You are a Rescue Bot.” Dreadwing spoke. His voice was low, and there was an odd note to it.

“Yep. Me, Boulder, Chase, and Heatwave. We crashed here a while ago and Prime stationed us on this island to act as a rescue team for the locals.” he explained distractedly.

Dreadwing made a soft hum. “Prime knows you are here? Are you Autobots, then?”

Blades frowned. “He knows. He visits, sometimes, but not often. We haven’t been able to contact him lately though.” He was too focused on his task to think about whether he should actually,be answering so freely. The second question gave him pause, though. “No? At least, not really? We’re a Rescue Team. Rescue Bots take oaths off non-affiliation. We can’t side with any particular group or individual since our job is to help any bot or being that needs it.” He was reading over the results of his scans, mouth turned down. “We’re more closely tied to the Autobots right now, but that mostly because we don’t know much of what happened with the war. We were in stasis until we crashed.” He let the readings flicker away, and froze when he realized how much he’d shared. “Uhhh….”

Dreadwing only snorted, actually looking fairly amused. “Yes, I think it is quite clear now that you are no warrior, little youngling.” he rumbled. His expression darkened. “I understand why Prime stationed you here, out of sight. Megatron would see you hunted and slaughtered if he knew a Rescue Team still functioned.”

This made Blades freeze, and as he recalled Optimus’s first words to them, and that data pad, dread began to build in his spark. “What?” he asked weakly.

Dreadwing stared. “You were not told?” he sounded…angry. “That is foolish. It is not a pleasant tale, but you should have been told if only to ensure you understand the importance of your existence remaining secret.”

Blades swallowed. “Optimus doesn’t really tell us much of anything about the War, and the data pads he leaves only really cover the basic and important bits, not the details.” he whispered. “Does…does Megatron wanting my team offlined have anything to do with the “end of the Rescue Force”? I read about it in one of the data pads, but it was just a mention. I couldn’t find any details other than that one phrase.”

Dreadwing’s gaze was solemn as the little bot lifted his optics to meet it. “Yes.” he said bluntly. “In the early days of the War, Megatron grew angry that the Rescue Bots aligned with no faction, and he wanted to deprive the Autobots of any who might aid or help them. He ordered the destruction of the Rescue Force. The Headquarters was destroyed, and all Rescue Bots present were massacred. Any who survived, and any who had not been present in the initial attack, were systematically hunted and slain.”

Blades’s knees felt weak. He pressed his hands to Dreadwing’s chest to steady himself, grateful that the larger flyer didn’t protest it. His rotors rattled madly against his back with his distress, and his optics were blown wide.

“But that would mean…”

“You and your team are the last Rescue Bots in existence. All the others are offline and have been for many, many millennia.”

The copter’s knees gave out, and Dreadwing was quick to grasp his frame to keep him from hitting the ground. A sharp keen left Blades’s vocalizer, and the Seeker blessedly said nothing and made no moves to push as the youngling processed the new information.

It was, of course, that moment that the others chose to return.

——————————

Part 2