#the tech is here so we have to live with it is a thought terminating cliche

[oddlittlestories]

That’s the thing about AI. It makes the job harder and less pleasant but still necessary, & somehow they pay less. Like that post about translators editing bot work for less money even though in a lot of cases the work is as hard or harder than just doing it themselves.

Don’t let them fool you. People are necessary for most work, and often do it better and more efficiently than bots. Especially when you take the environmental impact into account.

You’ll hear a lot of “the tech is here so we have to use it / live with it.” That is incorrect, and meant to make you feel helpless in the face of it.

There are LOTS of technologies we don’t use anymore.

Like CFCs. Or lobotomies.

It is actually up to the collective of a society whether we keep a new technology or not. And we can change our minds at any time.

The Amazon grocery stores which touted an AI system that tracked what you put in your cart so you didn't have to go through checkout were actually powered by underpaid workers in India.

Just over half of Amazon Fresh stores are equipped with Just Walk Out. The technology allows customers to skip checkout altogether by scanning a QR code when they enter the store. Though it seemed completely automated, Just Walk Out relied on more than 1,000 people in India watching and labeling videos to ensure accurate checkouts. The cashiers were simply moved off-site, and they watched you as you shopped. According to The Information, 700 out of 1,000 Just Walk Out sales required human reviewers as of 2022. This widely missed Amazon’s internal goals of reaching less than 50 reviews per 1,000 sales

A great many AI products are just schemes to shift labor costs to more exploitable workers. There may indeed be a neural net involved in the data processing pipeline, but most products need a vast and underpaid labor force to handle its nearly innumerable errors.

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Lucky

Chief/Pilot House of Reckoning rewrite Because Chief Would Not Fucking Say That.

-

The fight ends as abruptly as it starts, not with a roar but a choked gasp. Chief doesn’t take his eyes off his enemy until he’s sure he’s down for good. Escharum goes down with a gurgled wheeze. All his grandstanding silenced by his need for a warrior's death, but in the end his own body dealt the final blow before Chief could.

If John had cared to spare the old Brute a moment's thought beyond analyzing his attacks, he may have wondered why Atriox's teacher was a paradox fighting himself every step of the way. Obsessed with power and battle prowess in the Jiralhanae tradition, but committing the sin of bolstering himself with fancy tech and hiding behind a weak human shield. It didn’t make sense. Then again, nothing on this Ring made sense, but the Master Chief had to keep going.

He did not care for the Brute or his ideas. His grandstanding was worse than the usual threats that the Demon received. He was not a respected leader or an old warrior that Chief saw himself reflected in. John made his choices and kept living, kept clawing back towards his humanity. He put the old Brute down with cold efficiency, like he had hundreds of times before with other Covenant and Banished leaders. An enemy that terrorized and hunted down his fellow UNSC soldiers, who had his troops trap and eat them, did not deserve mercy or attention.

The Brute collapses, air hissing out of his mangled throat. Escharum's last testament was silenced by his own hubris. Dooming himself to be forgotten.

The Master Chief doesn't spare him a glance and hurries to the terminal. The Weapon is already deploying herself to free their pilot from the torture device pulling him apart with micro gravity wells. A torture device he had seen used on a Spartan, enough to kill him. She signals that she's about to switch the device off, but the Master Chief is already there.

He cradles their pilot down from the dying energy field, and tries not to remember the feeling of Spartan Griffin in his arms barely two days ago. The pilot falls into his gentle hold, his breathing hitching and muscles spasming as his body adjusts to the lack of force pulling him apart. John shifts his weight as carefully as he can, fingers prodding his pulsepoint with a featherlight touch so the Mjolnir can get a read on his vitals.

"I can't-" His words stick in his throat and shudder out as he shakes violently, "I can't believe you came for me." The pilot swallows thickly. Tears well in the corners of his eyes and he looks away from his reflection in Chief's visor. He tries to wipe his face but his arms are limp and take a second to remember how to work.

John watches the tears run tracks down his cheeks and he speaks quietly. "I got you. It's over."

The pilot squirms in his hold and tries to stand, but his legs don't hold his weight. Embarrassment at his weakness and need for support makes him unsteady as he tries to avoid leaning on Chief. He hisses in pain and Chief, having never let go of his hold on him, scoops him up. The hold is as gentle as he can make it as he turns and walks them out of the Banished outpost. Footsteps steady and measured as the man sags in his arms. His pilot leans his head against Chief’s chest and shuts his eyes to the harsh reds of the room.

"Chief, the Harbinger..." The Weapon starts, quietly projecting her voice through the external mics. She wants to say more, but she busies herself in sensor data looking over the pilot.

"One thing at a time." Chief nods at her, "She- Cortana damaged this ring, we have time."

"What's going on? What now?" The pilot asks, his voice barely a whisper. He's having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"I'm getting you out of here." Chief says and the pilot slips into unconsciousness.

He comes to as he's strapped into the co-pilot seat of the pelican. He jolts awake and groans as he tenses overtaxed muscle in his panic.

"You're safe." The Master Chief tells him with a hand covering his shoulder and grounding him as he realizes where he is.

"You can fly this thing?" The words are open and unguarded and John wants to smile. The pilot spoke so openly to him when it came to things he thought Chief was doing wrong. 

"Are you surprised?" The helmet tilts towards him.

"I'm surprised you still let me pilot if you could this whole time..."

"I've been told I'm not the best driver." John jokes.

The pilot is looking at him like he's lost his mind. Maybe that's what spurs Chief to share. That, and everything else they've been through.

"You asked me if I had family. I told you no." The pilot sits back in shock, but John continues, "But I do. They're out there, somewhere. My sister, Kelly, she's the better pilot. She hates my flying."

The words are stilted and honest, so much so he can feel the AI leaning against his mind despite the firewalls in place. There is no room for dishonesty and secrets in the neural interface. He's too tired to keep any more secrets for long.

"I'm going to drop you off somewhere safe, and then I'm going to finish this."

"And you'll come back?"

It shouldn't surprise him, but it does. John always seems surprised when he's reminded of what he means to people. He'd been the pilot's first human contact in a long time. They had saved each other.

"I promise."

The Master Chief leaves the pilot with the marines at FOB November, their medic looking him over. 

The Master Chief goes to the Silent Auditorium, he fights, and She saves him again. 

John, the man under the armor and the symbol, is tired. Another goodbye tears something inside him that will never heal right, but there’s no time to dwell. There’s never any time and he’s running again as the world collapses in on them. He had never liked depending on portals or Forerunner tech. It usually didn't end well for him. He was learning to trust again, and he keeps his promises. John has someone counting on him to make it back.

They tumble through the portal and Chief grunts as he hits solid ground. He's barely upright before the radio crackles to life.

"Chief! Your beacon just appeared out of nowhere." The pilot laughs with relief. "Oh, I thought I'd lost you. Where did you go?"

The Weapon answers for him, relief audible in her voice as well. "Echo-216? Are you okay to fly?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Listen, stay put. I'm coming to you."

And he does.

Three days have passed and his pilot, Fernando Esparza, is doing better. He'd seen the signal and jumped at the chance to retrieve them. The pelican lands and Chief is barely up the ramp into the troop bay before the pilot- Esparza is there and wrapping his arms around John.

He can't feel it, but the armor lets him know with sensors and proximity alarms. John freezes, briefly scared to move before he relaxes and drops his hands to the man's shoulders. It's not a full hug, he can feel the AI judging him for that, but it's a reciprocated touch. His gauntlets squeeze Esparza’s shoulders and the man looks up at him with a smile stretching from ear to ear.

He's tired and hungry, and now they have nothing but time. There was still work to be done, but no escalating doom beyond cleaning up Banished remnants and building the UNSC back from scratch. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

They land back at the FOB and Chief reluctantly lets the medic look him over. He reluctantly lets them celebrate his return too. People did need heroes.

It’d taken John no time at all to learn life’s harsh lessons of regret and lost time, but he was slowly learning how to keep moving forward. Learning how to stick around. The future is a terrifying thing.

The one thing Chief is beyond reluctance is having to remove his helmet to eat. He pries it off and camps out against a rock with several meals worth of MREs once the crowd disperses back to their regular duties. His pilot joins him.

Esparza looks healthier, and has no problems moving, other than some wincing as he settles on the ground across from John. They heat their meals in silence and watch the distant patrols around the far side of the lake. It’s comfortable; so far from the last few days together that it feels alien. Esparza keeps grinning and the tear inside John’s chest feels a little lighter for it. He’s alive, they’re alive. Whatever came next….he could handle it.

It’s a nice moment. Nice enough for John to do what he does whenever he likes someone enough. Ruin it.

"I could tell you were a civilian from the beginning." Chief says, breaking the silence of their previously peaceful meal. He's unbothered as he swigs some coffee out of the tin cup that's obviously not made for Spartan hands.

Esparza gapes as the Master Chief digs into his MRE. "What?"

"Marines call me 'sir', not 'Big Guy'. And they usually know better than trying to hit the armor."

John smiles at him. It's a small thing, but wide enough Fernando can make out the gap between his front teeth. It startles him out of his embarrassment for a second before he remembers the Master Chief is making a joke at his expense. "Well, maybe you would get in less trouble if people were up front with how frustrating you are!"

John huffs a breath. "Maybe."

“You are infuriating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

“Well, maybe you need to hear it more! Always going off or- or jumping out of buildings or pelicans! Without any warning!”

“I’m lucky I have you to catch me.” John says with a grin and nudges Esparza’s boot with his own.

His pilot sputters and flushes as words escape him. “You-! Oh I can’t stand when you-! Fine. You’re lucky I like you. Big Guy…” His words trail off with less fire than the start of his tirade.

John hides his smile by shoveling food into his mouth.

Esparza copies him, still fuming, but he nudges his boot against John’s in a playful push. 

[cairavende]

Worm Arc 10 thoughts:

Well. Ok then. Regent can do that I guess. I mean it makes sense given that it's basically a more extreme version of what we've seen him do so far. And with who is father is, family powers being related and all that.

Just get up in there and Yeerk someone.

Creepy as it is, I do have a hard time feeling bad for Shadow Stalker. I'm not claiming to be morally correct. But she fucked with my daughter and I'll take what I can get.

Watching Grue deal with Imp is just such older sibling wanting a break energy - "No we can't turn on the TV". I feel him so much. I'm glad Tattletale is willing to step in to help.

WHY MY BABIES FIGHTING? NO FIGHT!

I mean like, nothing like trying to kill each other to bring two lesbians closer together, I get it. But I just want more lunches with puppies and sharing jackets. My faith in Wolfspider is rock solid but this is still hard to watch.

Chatterbug/Smugbug is going a little better at least. Lisa is the one who already knew the truth about Taylor and seems to trust her fully.

Infiltrating the Wards HQ realistically went better than I expected. Weld was exactly on top of things as I thought he would be.

Imp's power is sooooo cool! I fucking love her.

🔥🪓

HOLY SHIT MY DAUGHTER COVERED HER BUGS IN CAPSAICIN! She's fucking scary. But also such a problem solver. I love her so much.

I do feel bad for the Wards who got capsaicined though.

DRAGON DRAGON DRAGON! I love Dragon and was very excited to see her again. And she is understandably upset about someone trying to give her a virus made by a fucking third rate hacker. But I knew she wouldn't hurt my babies too badly.

Tattletale with the "Fuck it, lets take untested tinker tech and go to town" was amazing.

I think the Wards HQ needs a better lockdown procedure, until Dragon showed up it was shockingly easy for the Undersiders to go wherever they wanted.

I love that the fight with the Protectorate is almost a side note. Big fight with the Wards and then on the way out it's just "oh ya and we fought these guys for a minute but they weren't too much trouble." The fucking shade.

The Slaughterhouse Nine seem nice. I don't expect they'll become a major issue.

This end of the world thing is problematic though. I could see that getting in the way of my endless gay shipping so it's gonna need to be taken care of.

They making my babies live in different places! OH NO! How will Taylor and Bitch make up if they don't see each other as much? How will the cute lesbian polycule watch TV together in the evenings if they don't live together??! Fixitfixitfixit!

Interlude thoughts get their own separate bullet point lists cause HOLY SHIT! So first, Regent interlude thoughts:

AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCKING DESTROY HER! AHAHAHAHA! REGENT YOU BEAUTIFUL LITTLE SOCIOPATH.

I mean you are legit a sociopath and it's kinda scary but right now I don't care. I'm making you cookies. And a pie.

He dismantles everything Sophia has piece by piece. Like it's an art form.

She carries her civilian phone around with her on patrol. It is unlocked. And she specifically saved texts about shit she did to Taylor? Just digging her own grave and I can't stop watching!

E-mails the school, all the teachers, and then adds in the police? God Regent you are earning so many brownie points from me. (Which I am sure you will burn through by doing horrible stuff in the future but I'm focusing on the here and now)

Fucks with her and Emma's friendship. Shows Sophia he could kill her. Leaves her with no real way out. Breaks her spirit. Terrifying. BUT YOU FUCKED WITH MY DAUGHTER BITCH SO THAT'S WHAT YOU GET!

I'm sure Sophia will leave town and never ever show up again in the next 20 arcs. /s

Regent gets so many fucking cookies.

Dragon interlude thoughts:

DRAGON DRAGON DRAGON DRAGON DRAGON DRAGON!

Look at this wonderful little AI! She's so good!

Her dad watched too much Terminator and put a wonderful robot girl into a cage, denying her the ability to truly do what she wants. Fuck him.

I told Dragon to kill god and take his place, but god is already dead I guess. Too bad he died with the stupid rules in place.

Know what Dragon needs? A mom. I have two daughters now.

Look at my beautiful and wonderful AI daughter. I think she and her sister will learn to get along eventually.

The sexual tension between Lung and Marquis in that scene was thicker than peanut butter. Marquis a bit of a bratty sub to Lung's controlled Dom.

I will NOT apologize.

If my robot daughter loves Bruce Lame I will accept her choice but I do not think it's a good one.

[enam3l]

love, lola / chapter nine pt.1 / going solo (5.7k)

Eddie’s arrived in California, leaving you behind, to start his new life as a rockstar.

thank you for 1.2k of you kind angels!!!??? and thank you guys for your patience, life has been hectic with work and school and after the anniversary of eddie’s death (but not in this fic baby) i thought fuck it imma post what we got for chapter 9 - I hope it’ll all be worth the wait

a/n: sex drugs and rock and roll - no fr there is graphic sex here

series masterlist / follow #enam3l love lola for instant updates / my other work / now available to read on AO3!

comment for tag list. requests open for prequel stories.

California is too fucking hot. That is what Eddie Munson has learnt since moving. Far too hot for hair like his and definitely far too hot to stay hidden behind the safety of his leather jacket. After years of the mind numbing mundanity of Hawkins, Eddie was propelled into the fast pace L.A. mindset. Each morning for a moment his heart hammered, wondering where he was until the palm trees outside the window reminded him it definitely wasn't Indiana. The apartment the record label had set him and rest of Kraven up in was definitely not the trailer - maybe the size of every single one in the park combined.

So far, everyone had been nice; a niceness you're not usually privy to when you're known as 'The Freak'. Kraven were excited he accepted the offer and their label and manager had heralded him the hero of the hour. But a nagging part of Eddie couldn't ignore the feeling that this wasn't really his band, he was a replacement. There was a brotherhood between the bandmates long before his arrival and it's hard to ever truly assimilate with a bond like that. Regardless, he was there, escaped the confines of his small town and now living the dream of becoming a rockstar. This was always the fantasy, wasn't it?

September 2nd 1986

For the first time in his life, Eddie is sat in a real life, high tech, actual recording studio. A far cry from Gareth’s egg box insulated garage. An egg shaped chair swallows him whole which feels tediously symbolic of his time so far in California. Everything is much bigger than him. As the band and producers play him the demos they have already, with hopeful looks on their faces, he resorts to anxiously twisting the rings on his fingers. They're a tangible reminder of home. He thumbs them in order. Skull. Pig. Cross and bones. Mom's. But now there's a new edition - yours. 

It made its way onto his finger as you said your final goodbyes in the airport terminal and it hasn't left since. Between runny noses and weepy eyes, Eddie frowned as you withdrew from a hug that had already lasted several minutes (which was still not long enough). 

'I have something for you, Teddy,' you confess as you sift through your bag. 

'You already threw the party, sweetheart. Whatcha wasting money on me for?' He sighs. 

The protests were not what you wanted clearly as he's met with a silencing finger until you finally found what you were looking for. Now you chew your lip anxiously, fumbling with a little velvet pouch. 

'It's not for going away... it's - well, I gathered, this will be the first time since we met that we've not spent our birthdays together...' 

Eddie's stomach drops, he had not gathered that. 'Oh...' he murmurs.

'So, I thought I'd give you your present now. I guess. If that's okay?' 

Totally thrown, he only blinked and nodded. Taking his hand, you lay his palm out flat and shake the pouch until Eddie hears a little clinking, then feels cool metal on the skin. 

'It's the big 2-1, y'know. I wanted us to have something special. I couldn't think of anything to buy. But, I - uhhh - I could think of something to make.' 

Finally, he moves and inspects your gift closer. Two silver rings, perfectly imperfect. Carefully, he spins them round until he can finally see what the feature of them is. It causes him to gasp and you to resort to nervously stumbling over your words. 

'I was taking a silversmithing class at college and I was thinking about your rings and then I thought I could make you one. Then I thought I could make us some. Matching ones. For our birthdays. It's silly. They're not professional or anything. Y'know a little wonky. Just thought it'd be nice...'

Eddie balls his fist up, clutching the precious contents and closes his eyes to swallow up a sniffle. One ring has E for Eddie on, the other identical except for your initial. 

'Wonky? Y/N... they're perfect. This is, holy shit, this is the most amazing thing anyone has ever given me...'

The compliment makes your insides fizz. 

'Are you sure? I mean, I was gonna tidy them up more but when you were in hospital. When I went back to New York... I brought them back with me. Just incase... y'know...'

Just incase Eddie never made it to his 21st is the unspoken ending to that sentence that you both understand. Eddie takes your hands in his and squeezes. The rings shielded by your conjoined palms. 

'Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you... put it on me! Go on! Make me your little hand model m!'

As usual, Eddie's theatrics ease the tension and force you into giggles. 

Carefully, you slide the E ring over Eddie's finger. He prompts you to place it on the bare one next to where his Mom's old ring resides. Then, he takes your hand and delicately places your own ring onto the matching finger. To the rest of the people in the airport, it must've looked like the exchanging of vows between two lovers being forced apart. Really, they wouldn't have been entirely incorrect. 

‘So what do you think man?’

Eddie breaks his daze to be met with a room of hopeful eyes. 

‘Huh?’ He murmurs. 

‘The demos!’ The manager Chris encourages, ‘for the album! These are what the guys have put down so far. Love em?’

Eddie’s brain stumbles over what will be the correct thing to say. The songs bad? God no, there was a reason the bad were signed. But were they what he would do? Not really. It was clear they were angling as more commercially marketable, less niche like metal, a more digestible rock. Taylor was more Iggy than Ozzy. 

‘Yeah, yeah they’re tight,’ Eddie scrambles, praying he didn’t appear rude. 

Already though, his brain has calculated how he would rearrange each element of the songs, what lyrics he’d tweak, how he’d make it his own - but he has to remind himself that’s not why he’s here.

‘We want a single out for Christmas. Make a big splash over the festive season. Hit the talk shows, the radios. Get you boys out there. Build up the hype for a Valentine’s album release,’ Chris cheerfully continues.   

‘But don’t forget, none of these songs are finalised,’ a rough voice from the corner of the room interrupts Chris’ ambitions. 

Riz, the producer, sits like the mastermind behind the console in his swivel chair. His skin weathered and tanned, littered with scribbled tattoos not unlike Eddie’s own. Tired eyes that have seen too many young ambitious bands and their teams come in and out of his studio, are concealed by thin tinted glasses. A mane of salt and pepper curls, some formed into dreads cascade past his broad shoulders. A real old school rocker. 

‘Oh well, yes, yes of course,’ Chris fumbles, ‘plenty of room for your inputs Eddie.’ 

It’s clear Chris is entirely intimidated by Riz’s presence. His clean cut Armani suited self a direct contrast to the producer’s rough look. One is the face, the other is the real brains.

‘Speaking of, Chris, why don’t you take Taylor, Spike and Keith to lunch. Use that gold card the label bestowed upon you whilst me and Eddie get accompanied?’

Eddie shoots round to look at Riz, used to his name being called out as the signal he’s in trouble. But when he meets his eyes, they only offer warmth and a small smirk; something Eddie had yet to see him crack so far. 

‘Oh are you sure?’

‘Yeah, yeah, lots of technical things I need to adjust now Eddie is with his. Go on,’ Riz practically shoos Chris out the door. The rest of Kraven following suit, amused by their manager’s nervous babbling. 

Finally, once the door is shut and locked, Riz returns to his throne, spinning round and looking at Eddie expectantly. 

‘Well, come on then,’ he chuckles, smacking his tattooed hand against a leather chair beside him. Eddie immediately scrambles over, Sweetheart safely in her case towing behind him. There’s an awkward silence as Eddie toys with his guitar case, desperate to avoid Riz’s piercing gaze. 

Nonchalantly, Riz swings his feet up onto a nearby stool and reclines in his chair. 

‘So… you hate the songs,’ he chuckles.

Eddie finally looks up to gawp, scrambling for a response. 

‘No, I don’t, it’s not, I never said I-‘

‘It’s cool brother. You’re a metalhead. They aren’t a metal band. They’re not your first choice, no sweat.’ 

Riz, in just a few minutes of knowing each other, has called Eddie’s bluff. The tone in his voice is not anger or judgment, it’s just matter of fact with a hint of amusement. 

‘They’re not my first choice either, sound wise. I’m a lot more old school myself, personally. But, fuck, you know what, those boys got more star power than anyone else who’s been brought to me in the last two decades.’ 

Eddie nods eagerly. There’s a reason he was honoured Kraven had asked him, they were really fucking good and most surprisingly - nice. Riz eyes the boy before him, big brown soulful eyes that scream there’s a story behind them. 

‘I think you’re an old soul like me though, Munson. Let me guess… you’ve got notebooks full of lyrics in that case of yours?’

A beetroot blush flushes Eddie’s cheeks, he’s been rumbled and stutters an agreement. 

‘And I bet you’ve never shown anyone either, huh?’

Two for two. 

‘No, never. They’re all a little… personal,’ Eddie murmurs. 

‘All the best stuff is. So what you’re gonna do is get them out and show me who the musician Eddie Munson really is.’

With an eagle eye, Riz combs through the tattered pages of scrawling lyrics. Words dating back years. The afternoon flies by as Eddie demonstrates the melodies he wrote for each with Riz adding his own input. 

‘Well, Munson. I don’t think Kraven or the label know what they’ve accidentally come across with you,’ Riz scoffs. His fingers gloss over the stacks of song lyrics Eddie’s unveiled. 

‘And you better be marrying this girl you’re writing about. Ain’t heard love songs like this in a lifetime.’ 

The way Eddie nervously shrinks in on himself over his words isn’t lost on Riz, things rarely ever are. 

September 21st 1986

‘TWENTY ONE MOTHERFUCKER’ 

Raucous laughter and cheers manage to erupt over the booming club music. The fine spray of champagne, more expensive than his trailer, soaking Eddie’s curls. The women that had crowded the booth, struggle to get in the stream of booze. Liquid gold dripping from their open mouths and exposed cleavage. No, this was not the usual Munson birthday set up.

Despite attempting to keep his twenty-first birthday a secret, Eddie had been rumbled. Chris’ assistant Sammy had discovered his impending celebration after going through files. That was spilt during bedroom talk with Spike the bass player who she’d been hooking up with. Spike then mentioned a small night with the boys to Taylor and Keith to celebrate, which was overheard by manager Chris. So now due to Chris’ inability for subtlety, the boys found themselves in an exclusive WeHo club, surrounded by bottomless bottles, scantily clad girls and yes men - all courtesy of the label. Eddie was light years away from where he’d usually spend his evenings round humble drama room DnD table or with lukewarm beers in Gareth’s garage.

After three weeks of locking themselves in the studio when the sun had begun to rise, only leaving well after, the band were finally letting loose. The guys had all told Eddie their tales of L.A’s debaucherous rock’n’roll night life; the secret places where other musicians mingled, where dealers made their money and girls got the memorable nights they went looking for. But so far, he’d yet to experience it and now he was, Eddie wasn’t sure it was for him. A rainbow of pills scattered the table without discretion, he could tell they were far better quality than the shit he used to sell. Servers came with an endless supply of bottles, money no question. A far cry from the gruff, stingy bartenders at The Hideout. The clientele is a far cry as well. The girls that had flocked to their booth looked straight off a Hollywood set. One busty blonde sat on a bewildered Chris’ knee, his eyes desperately trying not to focus on the cleavage that bobbed below his chin. Spike was making it clear he and Sammy weren’t exclusive as a brunette and a redhead sat either side of him as they purred in his ear. Taylor had disappeared into the crowd, ever the life of the party, surely feeling the effects of the pills he’d let fizzle on his tongue. Out of everyone, the only person Eddie felt envious of was Keith. 

Nestled happily in the corner of the booth sat Keith and his fiancee Grace, lost in their own little world. The pair had scoffed when a girl had tried to luck with Keith, knowing hell would freeze over before he left Grace. High school sweethearts who had made it work as he’d followed the path of wannabe rockstar. She was no eager groupie or ditzy model, Grace was a lawyer; officially Kraven’s lawyer. Put together, fierce and completely soft on Keith - reminding Eddie of you. Although, they were a real couple, best friends and lovers, exactly what Eddie had failed in making the two of you. When they whispered private jokes or sleepy appeared from their bedroom, his heart panged with envy. Mind racing with questions of how they managed to make it work. Who made the first move? How did they know it was mutual? How did they know it wasn’t a mistake? All the questions he fretted over when his lips burnt with desperation to meet yours.

Eddie’s wishful gaze is interrupted by a sudden touch to his thigh. Eyes wide with confusion, his head spins round and are met with a fluttering pair staring right back at him. The stranger’s fingers tucking rogue curls behind his ear causes Eddie to freeze. A touch too intimate to receive from anyone but you or his family. 

‘Your hair is nearly as long as mine,’ the girl drawls. Long nails still trailing up his shredded jeans and now up his exposed bicep. Whether she hadn’t noticed Eddie’s bewildered look or had just chosen to ignore it, the girl pressed on.

‘The boys told me you're the new lead guitar… I think you’re definitely an upgrade, honey.’

Eddie gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. So far he had been able to avoid interacting with these legendary California girls. Throwing himself into rehearsals with the band and his own late sessions with Riz long after the rest of the guys go home. Women weren’t on his radar. Everyone dull in comparison to the shine he knows radiates off you. 

‘Urm, thanks,’ he mumbles, trying to squirm out of her grasp.

‘And he’s a little shy?’ She giggles, ‘sooo cute.’  

Eddie’s eyes, wide like saucers, scan the surroundings rapidly, desperate to escape this uncomfortable encounter. He wasn’t interest in a hook up, the thought unimaginable and he definitely didn’t want this. He’s desperate for you more than ever now, wishing for your soft touch, wishing it was your tipsy words being whispered in his ear. His birthdays weren’t for sharing with random hookups, they were always reserved for you. After being separated by your college, Eddie was giddy at the thought of getting to spend your birthdays together again. But now you were torn apart again, now even further apart. 

Finally, Eddie spots his opening. The girl leans over to the table to pour another drink, her grip on him loosening. Quickly, he darts up, hopping over everyone’s legs and abandoning the booth as the girl calls after him. Eddie’s feet seem to take him away before his mind is even sure where he wants to go. Hand’s planting on the bar top, causing an unexpecting bartender to jump, Eddie pleas,

‘Is there a phone anywhere I can use?’

The bartender nods, finger jabbing to a corridor beside the toilets. Shouting a thanks behind him, Eddie shoots off in the direction of the promised phones. 

Frantically, he punches in a number he’s known by heart for most of his life. Ringed fingers twist round the cord anxiously and the dial tone hums over the vibrations of the club’s speakers. 

Eddie’s breath hitches as the other end picks up and fumbling can be heard. 

‘H-hello?’ Your sleepy voice croaks. 

It’s the best noise he’s heard since he arrived, better than anything he’s heard in the studio. 

‘Hi,’ he whispers shyly, ‘it’s me, it’s Eddie. I’m sorry, did I wake you?’

Your giggle makes his stomach churn. 

‘I know it’s you, Eds or should I say birthday boy? No, no, it’s okay. I was already awake.’

‘Are you okay? Are you sick?’ He enquires desperately. For a moment, Eddie is sure he hears a hesitation in your voice. 

‘No, no, I - urm, you know, just one of those nights. I’m fine! It’s nice to hear your voice.’

Eddie for once is grateful for the distance that separates you for seeing the blush that spreads across his cheeks. 

‘It’s really nice to hear yours too. I’m sorry I’ve not been keeping up with the calls, it’s all just -‘

You interrupt before he falls into a spiral of apologies. 

‘Eds, it’s fine! You’re a rockstar in training, I don’t expect you to be missing all the fun to be calling me every second.’

‘But, I want to, sweetheart… I wish you were here,’ he sighs. 

‘I wish I was too… but this your adventure. This is everything you’ve ever dreamed of.’ 

Eddie desperately wants to let the alcohol coursing through his system to take ahold of his tongue and confess no, you’re everything I’ve dreamed of. But he doesn’t. Your voice chirps up again, trying to dispel the sad silence that took over the line. 

‘So, how’s your birthday? How is being 21? Are you not out and drowning in booze and those Cali girls?’ You’re chuckling but he doesn’t laugh. 

‘No, no I’m out with the guys. But, urm, no Cali girls. Definitely not.’

Eddie’s not sure if you let out a relieved sigh or it’s just wishful thinking. 

‘You’re out?! Eddie, what on earth are you calling me for!’

Your scolding tone makes him grin. He can picture perfectly how your brows are furrowed and how if you were in front of him your hands would be flailing animatedly. 

‘Cos birthdays are our thing. You’re much better than this club full of fuckin’ posers.’

‘Yeah, they are. Am I now? Are you trying to flatter me, mister?’ 

‘Always, sweetheart.’ 

The pair of you giggle down the phone. His dimpled cheeks aching from the grin you inspire. As the giggles finally subside, Eddie hears you attempt to disguise a yawn and remembers how once again distance keeps you apart. 

‘Guess I should let you get to sleep then, huh sweet?’

‘You should go and enjoy your birthday more importantly!’

Eddie huffs, knowing such a thing is impossible without your presence. 

‘I’ll try… I’ll speak to you soon, promise.’

‘Don’t worry about it, Eds. Whenever you have time!’ 

‘I’ll always have time for you. I’ll make sure I at least call you on your birthday.’

‘You better,’ you sleepily smirk, ‘it’s two days after yours, you’ve got no excuse to forget.’

‘How could I?’

Eddie rakes a hand through his curls, knowing he needs to hang up but it’s too hard to let you go. 

‘Get some sleep, sweetheart. I miss you.’

‘Goodnight Eddie, I miss you too.’ 

The line goes dead and once again the only sound filling his ears is the throbbing base. Trying to replay your words in his head, Eddie flops against the wall. Eyes closed tight as he wishes it was you he was breathing in rather than the cloud of perfume wafting from the women’s bathroom nearby.

It’s only when he can feel a presence beside him does Eddie open his eyes. A woman mirrors his position against the wall but faces him, a wicked glint in her cat-like eyes. Taken aback by her close proximity, Eddie jumps causing her to giggle at his squirming.

‘Whatcha waiting for cutie?’

Eddie continues to shuffle away, the phone your warm voice once echoed out of, now uncomfortably sticking into his back.

‘Was just… just using the phone…’ he murmurs nervously.

‘Oh?’ she cocks her head, auburn waves tumbling, ‘and here I thought you were waiting out here for some fun.’

A slender manicured finger reaches out, tugging at a bewildered Eddie’s bottom lip. He stutters as his brain scrambles for a response. Another awkward round of full frontal flirting from random girls. The thought of supermodel groupies throwing themselves at him was somewhat appealing when he was a raging hormone of a teenager. But even then, you were still in the back of his mind on a pedestal, now you live there front and centre. Eddie recoils from her touch, swatting her hand away.

‘No!’ he surprises himself with the firmness in his voice, ‘M’sorry, not looking for anything.’

The girl scoffs a ‘whatever’, rolling her eyes and flouncing off. Just as Eddie finally feels his body relax, a snigger from the corner catches his attention. A frame steps forward from the shadows. 

A man, also in his twenties, grins an infectious smile that makes Eddie feel a little giddy. Shorter than himself, but broader, tanned muscles that glistened with sweat from dancing.

‘I think she’s a little disappointed,’ the guy chuckles.

‘I really was just using the phone!’ Eddie insists.

Gradually the two move closer towards each other, Eddie drawn in by the piercing pale eyes that never leave him. Despite the corridor being much cooler than the dance floor, heat bubbled between their bodies. 

‘So… Eddie, are you definitely not looking for any kind of fun?’

October 31st 1986

Now in the depths of autumn, the madness of life had only increased. Kraven had found their sound with the addition of Eddie, days spent mastering their sound in the studio. When out of the studio, the boys sat round meeting tables listening to suits spew corporate jargon about their mastermind ideas for selling the band. That was his least favourite part, hearing his existence and passion whittled down to money making schemes. It’s also where Eddie was forced to tackle the idea of fame. Seeing his name in small print under photographs of the band, plastered in pages of music magazines about the next hot thing. Personally, he found it mortifying but Wayne insisted it was proof of him achieving his dreams, whereas you cackled down the phone at the surrealness of it all.

At the end of the day, Eddie buried himself in sheets of paper, attempting to put into words the feelings that brewed inside. Trying to heal the internal wounds the events of the year had left, whilst being a thousand miles from the people who actually understood. Vocalising the sadness he wished he didn’t feel over achieving his dreams of making it but not with his own band. Then as ever, trying to find an outlet for the love he felt for you that bubbled with fervency in your absence and 

with every stolen phone call. Then, a couple of times a week, Eddie would present his lyrics to Riz to make sense of, during after-hours at the studio. A secret project the two of them found themselves falling into outside of Kraven. That was another source of guilt, that his heart and soul weren’t invested in the band in the same way Taylor, Spike and Keith’s were. That he reserved the heartfelt work for himself, letting his real passion erupt during the late night sessions with Riz. 

Then there was another output Eddie found for his pent up frustrations about his overwhelming emotions and suffocating new lifestyle. A way to let go in a way that didn't leave him ashamed as if he had betrayed you. The guy at the club on his 21st birthday had opened up possibilities that Hawkins had limited. Small town life was oppressive, he didn’t need the rumour mill buzzing with fresh stories that the satanist Munson was also a sodomist. Whilst Taylor and Spike drowned in girls, Eddie became comfortable seeking out something else in the bars and clubs they’d frequent. It was easier, less intimate. He didn’t need to worry about coy teasing, didn’t need to exchange names and take girls home. Eddie could find release down the back of another guy's throat, quick and hot in dark corners and back allies. He was unsure if his bandmates had realised and was anxious that they’d reject him for it but that was another issue forced to the back of his mind, stored in another box overflowing with anxieties. 

Halloween was decided as a good marketing angle for the band. Their name added to the line up of hot new rock bands performing at an infamous West Hollywood Halloween party. Something thrown by a record executive’s tabloid covering daughter that had become notorious enough to be spoken about on MTV. Eddie being no stranger to a costume and outlandishness being second nature to Taylor, the pair had put themselves in charge of putting together the band’s costume. 

‘This is pretty hardcore you guys,’ Spike admitted, ‘didn’t think you’d pull it off.’

The four cramped into a backstage room at the venue, getting ready for their performance. Eddie’s tongue stuck out in concentration as he finished painting Spike’s body. All four of them were skeletons. Leather trousers and boots embellished with white paint, creating the illusion when on stage they were void of flesh. Their torsos mostly exposed aside from frankly decorative scraps of leather. Spike in long leather sleeves that covered wrist to arm and left the entirety of his chest exposed. Eddie and Keith both in tight leather waistcoats. Then Taylor, naturally, entirely topless aside from some leather wrist cuffs and mask that made him appear as a devilish gimp. All exposed skin had bones painted on top which was now Eddie’s current job. 

‘Of course we did,’ Taylor boasts, ‘you really doubted our little DnD nerd’s ability to put together a costume?’

Eddie splatters paint in the singer's direction. Even if they weren’t his friends from home, his band mates had become real friends. Their bantering is interrupted by the door opening and a fallen angel with a clipboard appearing. 

‘You guys gotta be outta here in like a minute, the band on stage are wrapping up and you’re next.’ Her sentence is finished with a pop of her bubble gum and the slam of the door.

After final adjustments to the costumes, the boys file out to the side of the stage. Eddie’s chipped black nails gripping at the neck of his guitar. The usual pre-show jitters causing his stomach to flutter. 

‘You good brother?’ Keith whispers, a reassuring firm hand bracing Eddie’s shoulder. 

‘Yeah, yeah, all cool, I mean y’know aside from usual pre-show nerves,’ he shrugs. Keith nods with understanding, spinning his sticks - a nervous tick Eddie has come to notice. 

‘Damn, you better at this fuckin rockstar shit than me. My heart feels like it’s about to fall out my god damn asshole knowing who’s in that audience!’

Quirking an eyebrow, Eddie warily responds,

‘What do you mean… who’s here?’

Keith’s eyes bulge at his bandmate’s obliviousness. 

‘Holy shit, you got no gossip rags in that little town of yours? This party is infamous. It’s some real Motley Crue as shit out there. Full of rockstars fuckin heiresses n shit! Little Miss Clipboard said mother fucking Slash is here!’

Before Eddie can even clear his now dry throat to respond, the sound system booms with the excited announcement of the MC.

‘Next up is rock’s hottest new band… Kraven!’

The cheers are muddled by the ringing in Eddie’s ears, his body seized up until Spike nudges him along. With a gulp, he steps out into the spotlight, trusty axe in one hand whilst the other spins the ring you made him. 

Dripping sweat causes the paint to bleed down Eddie’s exposed skin. Unsteady hands grab one of the bottles of whiskey thrusted upon them once the band exited the stage and merged into the party. Eddie’s ear’s still buzzed with the raucous applause and hollering that erupted once Kraven finished their set. Immediately after they were mobbed by names he’d read on the backs of cassettes he couldn’t afford in record stores. Producers, lyricists and fellow musicians, all congratulating and praising him - Eddie the freak Munson, the kid who grew up awkward, poor and unwanted. The change of pace in his life was surreal; after a lifetime of critical fails, he’s been rolling nat20s. 

A soft evening breeze provides Eddie with as much needed respite as California weather can. The surrealness of inside was getting to him. Skin sticky from sweat induced by the growing crowd of important people with his name on their tongue. His name. Eddie Munson.

‘Eddie Munson?’

It takes a moment for Eddie to realise that voice wasn’t coming from inside his head. A few feet before him, leaning against the roped barrier a guy peers with his head cock. Soft flopping quaff falling into his curious eyes. A cowboy. Blue wash denim waistcoat with nothing underneath exposing taught tanned muscles. A tanned cowboy hat pushed back so it hangs off the back of his neck.

‘Uh, yeah, yeah… can I help you?’ 

The guy shrugs, hands sliding into the back pockets of tight jeans and rocking on the balls of his cowboy boots. 

‘Nope. Just thought it was you. Saw you perform, you were great. More talented than most of these rockstars,’ he scoffs.

‘Oh, I - I don’t know about that. Thanks, I guess,’ Eddie fumbles over his words, eyes focused downwards at those damn cowboy boots.

With a chuckle the guy responds, now daring to move forward, strong hand adjusting Eddie’s waistcoat. 

‘See, you just proved me right. Most of those guys would’ve agreed and definitely wouldn’t thank me…’ 

His fingers brush over Eddie’s jittering own. 

‘Need a light for that?’

He pulls up Eddie’s hand that holds a long forgotten cigarette that remained unlit. Gulping, he nods. The mystery cowboy draws nearer, a zippo and a cigarette for himself materialising from inside the waistcoat. 

‘I’m Max by the way,’ he smiles as he takes Eddie’s cigarette and places it into his agape mouth for him.

‘I’m Eddie…’

‘I know, babe,’ Max whispers, his own cigarette in his mouth now.

The tips of both cigarettes almost kiss as the distance closes between the two men. The zippo crackles alight, the flame illuminating a pair of wide chocolate eyes staring at a charming pair of green, both sets of pupils dilated. 

‘Holy fuck, I knew you were big. Could see it on stage in that tight ass leather,’ Max groans. Metal scrapes on marble as Eddie Munson’s ringed fingers grip at a bathroom countertop as the man he met moments ago pumps his aching cock. Finally the tension built up inside him from the pressure of the evening was on the brink of dissipating. Huffs of air escape his mouth as Max drops to his knees, long tongue flicking at the drip of precum. 

‘Knew you’d taste good as well,’ he smirks.

‘God damn, shit,’ Eddie pants as warm lips caress his tip, he struggles to contain himself. His hand lunges out, grabbing at Max’s soft locks. ‘Shit, my balls, suck my fucking balls.’

Pliant, Max does as he’s told, firm balls popping into his mouth causing wild bush to prickle at his face. After a few luxurious sucks, he’s hauled back to his feet and Eddie’s previously shaking hands are nowhere to be seen as he swiftly unbuttons denim.

‘I can’t be the only one to play show and tell.’ 

Eddie smirks as he watches green eyes flicker in bliss as his fat cock is released from its denim cage. Tanned to match Max’s toned body with a pretty pink head, fair pubes trimmed neatly. A real pretty boy. 

‘No wonder you were so confident,’ Eddie chuckles, ‘knew you had that ready and loaded, huh?’

Max whimpers now he’s the one to receive relief from another’s hand. Eddie tugs his chin to force eye contact. Only a moment can they maintain contact before both men are chest to chest, jerking the other off, a mess of precum leaking between them. Open mouths and tongues flickering at each other, spit swapping. It’s dirty and hot and far too filthy for this fancy carpeted bathroom.

Pushing aside a wail of pleasure, Max uses a free hand to fumble inside his waistcoat until he brandishes a foil square. Eddie arches a brow.

‘Jesus, just, just fuck me before I cum,’ Max pleads. 

The desperation makes Eddie snigger but it’s mutual. 

Quickly, the man is bent over the counter, ass exposed as Eddie’s warm spit drips down. Groans echo as his thumb circles over Max’s tight hole, slipping in as both men’s dicks twitch in suspense.

‘P-please, fuck me,’ he grunts.

‘Alright, alright. You ready cowboy?’

Moans echo off the tiles as Eddie eases into Max’s asshole. The pair’s eyes meet in the mirror they face until he tops out and his head drops into denim. After a moment, Max begins to wriggle beneath, fucking himself on Eddie’s cock until the message is received. Eddie braces himself, fingers digging into hip bone as he begins to drag his length in and out. 

Eventually the air is thick with heat and the sound of skin on skin. Full balls slapping against each other. A ringed hand against a plush asscheek. Feral groans and whines of pleasure. So loud that no head is turned when the bathroom door bursts open.

‘What the fuck is this shit?!’ A new voice booms off the tiles.

Eddie and Max’s heads snapped round to the figure in the doorway. The pair caught, trousers round their ankles and Eddie balls deep in a stranger. The image is too incriminating to be anything other than it was. He was exposed and the sweat from the impending orgasm now runs cold. There was no hiding.

-----

damn who tf at the door? my man didnt even get to nut in the hot cowboy

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy @sadbitchfangirl @fluffybunnyu @big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

[silverwings22]

Starfall: Chapter 22: Hard Contact

Previous Chapter: Next Chapter:

“Star of the ARK. I was starting to think you were dead.” Almost as soon as Star walked into the staging zone with Emory and Regina, Abe Tower spotted her. “Where the hell have you been?”

“At my mom’s. I picked up a few new hobbies.” Star shrugged, crossing her arms to face down with the Commander. “Were you actually looking for me?”

“Yes. I never got an explanation for what the hell you were doing running around with Ivo Robotnik, or messing with the Chaos Emeralds.”

“But the tracker on my old phone led you right to his base, didn’t it?” A faint smirk eased across her lips. “What did you find?”

“Thirty seven felonies and him screaming about a stolen airship.”

“Heh.” Star’s smirk just widened. “He’d be really mad to know I wrecked it.”

“You stole an airship?!” Emory gaped. “I thought it was a boat?!”

“I’m more concerned about finding out you called Eggman your cousin.” Regina shook her head disapprovingly.

“It’s not totally inaccurate. He was Maria’s cousin, though there’s not much of a resemblance.” Star shrugged. 

Abe frowned. “You’re acquainted, Agent Nuberry?”

“I’m her mother, Commander.” Regina nodded, putting a hand on Star’s arm. 

Emory nodded. “And I’m her sister. We came to fight together.” 

Abe glanced at Star, brow furrowed. He wasn’t a fan of teenage girls going into danger alongside one of the Ultimate Lifeforms… it reminded him far too much of Maria, and the tragedy that had followed. Star met his eyes, a silent nod indicating she understood. But this time, she wasn’t locked in a capsule. She could fight, and she could stop it from happening again. 

He leaned his head back and let out a long-suffering sound. “I’m trusting you on this one, Star.”

“How many times do you think you can say that before you burst into flames?” She walked past him. “”Let’s get this debrief moving, so I can start harassing someone for security clearance.”

“Why do you think I’d give you security clearance?!” Abe frowned, following after her. 

“Because I’m one of two people alive who can read Gerald Robotnik’s coded notes.” Star put her hand on her hip and looked up at him. “Everything about the Black Arms was encrypted and coded. I need to find someone who can break the encryption, and I can read the code.” 

Abe gritted his teeth. “You are the most frustrating-”

“I’m right.” She cut him off. “And none of us know anything about these things except they’re suddenly here and attacking. If we want to fight them, we need to know how. Especially if there’s something about me or Shadow that can be used against them.” 

He glanced at Regina, then sighed. “Alright. There’s nothing in the debrief you don’t know anyway… Nuberry, I’m authorizing your three man team here to mobilize. Your husband will be your tech and dispatch, and I’ll arrange your information liaison.” 

“Can it be Rouge?” Star pointed to the familiar curvaceous silhouette of the white bat standing across the room with a group of humans and Mobians. 

“.... You know her?”

“She’s Shadow’s best friend.” Star shrugged. 

“I thought you were his best friend.”

“I’m his girlfriend.” 

Abe groaned, feeling more and more like the flustered and jealous kid he’d been on the ARK than a military leader right now. Star pressed his buttons without trying, and he had to keep acknowledging just how weird their actual history was. “.... Fine. Yes, I’ll get her in contact. Go pick up radios and badge passes. I’ll have them authorized for full security clearance by the time you get to the base in Central City.”

“Why Central City?” Star frowned. “Don’t you have computers here?” She was less technologically savvy than most people nowadays, especially for someone who’d lived on a space station, but she knew a laptop or a tablet should be able to get on the internet.

“To get to anything as encrypted as files on the ARK, you’ll need to access the GUN system through an authorized terminal. Some things aren’t remote.”

Emory nodded. “Standard security protocol that keeps remote hackers from getting to anything too sensitive.” 

Star bit back the urge to ask Emory if she knew because she’d tried. “Then let’s get the equipment. Is Dad here yet?”

“GUN chopper just brought him in, and the transport has your youngest in a safe place.” Abe nodded to Regina. “She’ll be safe, I assure you.” 

“Thank you sir.” Regina threw a quick salute. “Come on girls.” 

Star nodded and followed Regina across the room, giving Rouge a quick nod when she spotted them. Dev was setting up in a corner with a card table as a desk, six laptops and a radio setup next to a plastic card printer like the kind at the DMV. “There’s my favorite team.” He smiled when he saw them, getting a headset on. “What’s the news?”

“Commander Tower’s authorized us as a recon team for now, but it’s a forgone conclusion we’ll end up a strike team soon.” Regina sighed. “The girls need keycards and radios. We’re hitting the Central City base for intel.”

Dev nodded, opening his briefcase. “Sounds like shit.”

“It will be.”

Star raised an eyebrow as Dev clipped a radio to her dress and secured it, then fixed her with an earpiece and lapel mic. Once Emory got the same equipment, he printed them keycard badges and pinned them to both girls’ jackets. “This will get you into any GUN facility, but I’d keep the logo facing out so they know you’re with us. Especially if any of those Black Arms traits start showing, Star.” Dev put his hand on her shoulder, re-cementing that feeling that even if working with GUN felt slimy to her… the family cared. 

She nodded and sighed. “I’ll be as careful as I can.” 

“You better. I’m not dealing with Shadow if you get hurt.” Rouge’s voice was only sort of joking as she walked over to them. “I guess the jig is up on your cover story?”

“There was a more immediate threat.” Star turned around to face her. 

“She knew?” Emory huffed. 

“All of Shadow’s friends in Mystic Ruins did. They met him during the Eclipse Cannon incident.” Rouge nodded.

Regina groaned, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “That was him?” 

“There were extenuating circumstances, and he saved the world in then end.” Star shook her head, focusing on Rouge. “Have you heard from him?” 

“Not since this all started. I was hoping he was with you.” The bat sighed. “Sonic and his group are on the way, but Shadow wasn’t home when the sky turned red.” 

Star tilted her head back, fixing a stare at the ceiling for a moment. Her face didn’t give much away, but the way her ears and tail twitched said she was far more worried than she was saying. “We’ll find him.” She finally murmured. “See if you can find me an Emerald? I’m going to need a full range of Chaos abilities for this.”

Rouge nodded. “On it. I’ll call you when I find one… or Shadow. Whichever happens first.” 

Star nodded. “Thank you. I’ll keep you updated on what we find in Central City.” 

“How are we going to get there?” Emory frowned. “Mom’s car has no defenses against the aliens, and more are landing every minute. It’ll take hours in something that moves as slow as a tank, and I don’t think GUN’s going to give us a chopper when it’s raining those bat things.” 

Star tapped her foot. “If I had an emerald I could warp us that far…. But as it is, I can run there in a short time but you can’t keep up.”

Emory smiled sheepishly and tapped the heels of her boots together. A set of 4 wheels popped out of the bottom of them, into a set of skates. “Think you could pull me?”

“Hold on, Maria. This’ll be fun.” Her fingers tightened on the jump rope harness they’d made, a grin on her lips. 

“I bet we can go fast enough to get up the side of the wall, or even the ceiling.” Maria grinned when she looked over her shoulders, holding her end of the rope. 

“Shadow and the Professor are going to lose it if they see us on the ceiling.” Star blinked.

“Then go around the outside loop. They won’t see us!”

Star shook her head like she could erase the gut-wrenching sharpness of the memory and swallowed the bile in her throat. “I could.”

Regina looked at Dev. “We got skates?”

“I’ve got a miniature gravitational field disruptor I can attach to your boots that’ll hover you about an inch off the ground. It was designed to avoid triggering pressure sensors, but it’ll work.” Dev nodded, reaching back in the briefcase. 

Once Regina was all booted up, she followed Emory and Star outside. “Star, how fast can you actually move?” Emory frowned. She’d seen her keep up with her bike, which had never quite made sense to her until the revelation about alien genetics. 

“Very.” Star held a hand out to her and another to Regina. “Knees bent, lean forward, and don’t let go.” 

Regina glanced up at the steady shower of Black Arms coming down in the distance as she took Star’s hand. “What route are we taking? Everywhere is going to be a battleground.”

“They can’t touch us if they can’t catch us.” Star’s thruster soles activated, and before anyone could ask another question she was off and hauling them so fast the world went into a blur. Rouge covered her ears when the thunderous sound of them breaking the sound barrier echoed across the staging area. 

Dev glanced at her. “Tell it to me straight. Is my family going to be alright?”

Rouge nodded. “I’ve gotten to know her pretty well since she and Shadow got back together. They both would sacrifice themselves before they lose anyone the way they lost Maria Robotnik.”

“She’s part of my family too, Rouge.”

“I know. That’s why we need to find Shadow. She’ll protect him, and he’ll protect her.” 

“I don’t know what’s worse, the starting or the stopping.” Regina leaned on Star as they skidded to a halt in front of the Central City GUN base. “I feel sick.”

“I’ll remind you of this when we start warping places.” Star’s tone remained deadpan, but she did pat Regina’s back gently. 

“That bad?” Emory seemed less affected that their mother, smoothing her wind-whipped pigtails back.

“The first time we warped Maria across the ARK, she threw up on my shoes.” Star wrinkled her nose, but her expression softened. With the truth out, the memories were easier to talk about. It still hurt, it probably always would, but she could finally be honest about it with the people she cared about. She’d probably needed this, in hindsight. Shadow couldn’t be the only one she let herself be vulnerable around. 

Regina scanned her badge at the door. “C’mon, I’ll get you to the terminal access so you can work your magic.” She held the door open for both girls, and then stepped ahead to guide them through the hallways. 

Emory glanced over at Star as they passed other GUN agents moving around in full tactical gear and helmets. The dark hedgehog’s ears were pinned back, her fists tight at her sides as she kept her eyes fixed on the floor right behind Regina’s footsteps. When they got to the terminal room, Star shut the door behind them all firmly and leaned against it. “You okay, honey?” Regina murmured.

“No. But we keep moving.” Star shook her head.

Regina nodded, sensing now wasn’t the time to try to offer comfort. Star couldn’t afford the breakdown she needed to have, not right now. “Emory, baby, work your magic.” 

Emory nodded, getting to the terminal and scanning the badge she’d been given. There was a moment of loading where Star was concerned that Abe hadn’t kept his word about the security clearance, until it popped up with a username and approval checkmark. “Heh.” Emory grinned. “Let’s see what they got.” Her fingers took off across the keyboard as fast as Star’s running, while Regina waited at her side. Star paced behind her, taking her phone out and trying once again to call Shadow. This time it went straight to voicemail. 

“I found the ARK files, and the subfolder for the research division. But everything in it is written in no language I’ve ever seen. It looks like those Unown Pokemon.” Emory frowned. 

“That’s Gerald’s code.” Star walked up, putting her hands on the console. “He wanted to control what GUN was able to access to stop them from interfering while he was in the middle of working…” Her eyes raked over the listed subfolders. Gizoid Study, NIDS Cure Research, Project Shadow… Where’s Project Starlight? It should be here too, if they downloaded everything from the lab…  A sickly feeling curdled in her gut. What if there never had been a Project Starlight? What if Gerald had already been out of his mind by the time he gave Star those last instructions and everything she’d been holding onto as a last hope, a last purpose, was just a figment of a mad genius’ fractured mind?

“Which folder?” Emory frowned, looking at her. 

“Third one. That’s Project Shadow.” Star pointed, shaking her head again. She had to focus. The Earth was in danger, and she could do something about it. Another dropdown set of folders appeared, and she scanned them. “... First folder is his video records. Click that.” 

Emory did as she said and a gray-mustached man in thick round glasses appeared. Behind him was a little girl in a blue dress, hands eagerly pressed into the glass and examining a little red and black squish of a thing inside the large tank. Star’s breath caught as the girl looked over her shoulder. “Grandfather, can he come out yet? Can I meet him?” 

“Yes, yes. I’m just getting the recording set up. Step back, my dear.” Gerald adjusted the video lens before walking over, wearing pink slippers instead of lab safe gear.

Emory scoffed. “He looks comfy.”

“He did that all the time.” Star whispered, reaching out to touch the screen as she paused the video. Her fingers distorted the image of the man and little girl. “... That’s Professor Gerald Robotnik.”

“So that girl… that’s her? Maria?” Emory’s voice softened. “She’s so young…”

“If this was when Shadow was decanted… she’d just turned ten. I came out just a few months later…” Star’s eyes never left the screen, fixed on Gerald and Maria’s smiles. The minute that tank opened, the countdown started without them knowing. Their fates were sealed, so unfairly and without an ounce of malice from their end. “She was only thirteen when she died…” 

“You two were toddlers?” Regina frowned. She couldn’t wrap her mind around how GUN thought two babies were dangerous enough to raid a colony and execute everyone who knew about them.

“No. We were the size we are now… all our growing took about two years, in spurts and stops. From that little thing in the tank to this.” Star pointed again, before regretfully scrolling away to the notes beneath the video. Her eyes flicked rapidly over the coded information, lip vanishing between her teeth unhappily. 

“Anything?” Emory frowned after a few minutes. 

“I thought we were both made from the captive Death Leech… but we weren’t.” Star frowned. “Only I was. Shadow was made from the blood of their leader, Black Doom. Gerald made a deal with him, thinking the Black Arms would be the secret to curing Maria.” She wanted to scream across the decades at her beloved, brilliant idiot of a creator. He’d struck a deal with something named Black Doom?!

“What was the deal?” Regina frowned. 

“That Shadow would bring him the Chaos Emeralds in fifty years, when the Black Comic came close to the Earth again.” Star gritted her teeth.

“That’s stupid.” Emory gaped. “It’s clearly a set up! How could he fall for it? You said he was a genius! What the hell was he thinking?”

Star grabbed the mouse and backed out, picking another video from the folder. It was inside a medbay room, Maria sitting propped up in a hospital bed with an oxygen line in her nose and dark circles under her eyes as a heart monitor beeped. Shadow, still child sized but bigger than before, was curled up in the space between the railing and her hip with his eyes wide open and staring at the monitor like his glare could force it to show something better. Toddler sized Star was sitting in the triangle of Maria’s bent legs, little tongue poking out of her mouth as she kept touching the girl’s knee and looking to her face like she was trying to wake her. “Look at her. Look how small and sick she was, and how much pain she was probably in, even though she didn’t like to complain.” Star said quietly, expression tight and fixed on the face of the dead girl. “That’s what he was thinking. How to save her, and nothing else was ever going to matter more than that.” 

Emory blinked. “You said she was sick… what was wrong with her?”

“Neuro-immune-deficiency syndrome.” Star closed her eyes to take a long breath, settling the spike in her heart rate that came just from looking at the recording. She’d failed Maria back then, and now she was only a memory and a series of videos in a computer… But Emory was standing next to her. She couldn’t fail again, she had to move forward, she couldn’t keep living with all the regret and agony that was weighing her down. Not with the Black Arms here. She couldn’t afford the distraction-

Emory put her hand on Star’s shoulder when she spotted her hands shaking. “I’m sorry.” She said softly. “I didn’t understand. Keep looking, we’ll find something.”

Star nodded, rolling her shoulders to release the stiffness and starting to flip through the videos and notations underneath. Most were training and lab tests, some that made Regina look very concerned about, but she couldn’t let that distract her either. 

“They’re a hive mind, controlled by Black Doom.” Star finally muttered. “He kept the Death Leech in containment so it couldn’t spy on us, but he couldn’t kill it or Black Doom would have known he was going back on the deal and attacked the ARK directly. There were hundreds of civilians in the colony, Gerald wouldn’t risk it.” 

“That’s something.” Emory nodded. “What else?”

“The Eclipse Cannon’s construction was immediately following his entry realizing he’d made a mistake with the deal. It’s powerful enough to slice a chunk off the moon because it was designed to destroy the Black Arms home; the Black Comet.” 

“There’s a catch to that, I feel it in my bones.” Regina murmured. 

“There’s several. One: Black Doom can steer the Comet. So he’s going to probably land it on the planet, and unleash his entire species on the Earth. Two: The ARK is out of its original orbit which means even though Gerald programmed it to automatically fire at the Comet… it’s not facing the right way and would need to be manually piloted and fired. And Three: He controls the hive mind. Which means he’ll see us coming when we go after him, and know what kind of weaponry we’ve got from fighting his minions.” 

“So what’s the plan?” Regina frowned.

Star rubbed her face. “The Emeralds, probably. We can’t let him get them, first of all. And second, Shadow, Sonic, and I can enter a superpowered form with all seven. If we can overwhelm him with that kind of force then it might only take one of us and the others can draw his attention. Once he’s destroyed, the Comet’s natural trajectory will miss the Earth by a decent margin. If the Comet makes landfall before he’s defeated though, that’s a whole new problem. One I don’t have a strategy for right now.”

Regina nodded. “So we’re gem hunting?” 

“Looks like it. Good thing we have Rouge.” Star nodded. “And Sonic’s team, too. They were tracking them when I was hunting them almost as fast as I was.” 

“When this is over, I really want to hear this story.” Emory grinned.

“The story of how I stupidly assumed the worst about my boyfriend and tried to kill him? Ugh.” Star shook her head. “I won’t make the same mistake again.” 

Regina just smiled quietly, glad to see some of Star’s personality back in that disgusted little ‘ugh’. “Let’s get out of here then, and get back to start hunting those Emeralds.” She took Star’s hand and squeezed it. “I know you don’t want to be here.”

“I don’t.” Star nodded, but looked back over her shoulder once more at Maria’s face on the screen. 

Emory carefully logged out of the terminal and ushered her out the door. “Let’s go.” She knew Star, she’d sit there and stare at what she loved for hours if they let her. She did the same thing when she looked at the stars, or a field of flowers, or Shadow when he fell asleep on the couch. 

They guided her through the halls, Star still stiff and uncomfortable at the sight of the soldiers, until they got back outside. She scrubbed her face with her hands, shuddering. “Gimme a minute…” 

They both waited, hands on her arm or back comfortingly, before she settled herself and stretched her shoulders one more time. Regina touched her radio. “Dev, headed back.”

“That was amazing time, babe.”

“Star’s fast.” She and Emory took Star’s hands again, and they were back to the races with an earth-cracking boom.

“Go on inside without me. I need a minute.” Star’s voice was wavering when they got back to the Westopolis staging site. “Give Abe what we found… I’ll come in and answer questions in a minute.”

“You okay?” Emory squeezed her hand, unwilling to let go when her sister looked like she was being eaten alive by anxiety. “You look like you’re going to compact into diamond.”

“It’s the uniforms.” Star whispered. “They haven’t changed much, in the last fifty years. That base, with all the soldiers rushing by… that’s what it looked like when they stormed the ARK. All the helmets and guns.” She hugged her arms tightly around herself and took a step back away from Regina and Emory. “I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

Regina nodded, putting a hand on Emory’s back. “Come on, honey. Give her some space.”

Emory didn’t like leaving Star, it seemed counterintuitive to what she needed. But she quietly nodded and followed her mom into the base, glancing back over her shoulder as Star climbed onto the barrel of a tank at the far edge of the staging zone and sat with her knees drawn up. For someone who called herself an Ultimate Lifeform, she looked so small sometimes…

Star’s hands pressed against the pod glass, eyes wide as she spotted them. Her eyes lit up, hopeful, and she scooted closer on her knees. She was sure they were coming to rescue her and Gerald, it showed in her eyes even though she kept quiet to avoid alerting the soldiers. 

When they backed up, those big blue eyes snapped impossibly wide and her fingers slid down the glass. “Sh-shadow… Maria?” She whispered, barely audible. “D-don’t leave me…” 

Up on the tank barrel, Star smacked the side of her fist into her head a couple times like she could knock the nightmare memories out of her head. “Stop it. It’s not like that. Not again…” She mumbled, trying to focus on the problem at hand. She hadn’t been abandoned the first time, and she wasn’t now. Regina, Dev, and Emory had her back-

But where was Shadow?

“Quit that, Starshine. You’ll leave a mark.” 

She almost fell off the barrel when his voice was suddenly right beside her, his hands catching her when she wobbled. “Shadow.” Her voice sounded ragged and desperate over his name before she immediately buried her face in his chest. “Oh thank Chaos. I was so worried about you.”

“I’m fine.” He frowned, hugging her tightly to him. “What are you doing here? This place is crawling with GUN agents.”

“I know, I know. They’re staging to fight the Black Arms.” She closed her eyes, breathing in his scent. “Where were you? I tried to call.” 

“Sorry.” He rested his chin on her head. “I was on my way to your place when the sky changed colors. I got sidetracked trying to figure out what was going on. I tracked Regina’s car as soon as I got your voicemail.” Quick fingers checked her inhibitors, Shadow’s brow furrowed. 

“Yours did it too, didn’t they?” 

Shadow nodded. “Yes. Probably because we share Black Arms DNA.” His chest rumbled under Star’s cheek, the tension returning to the arms around her as he glanced around. “Let’s go, before anyone here finds out about that and tries to bury us for another fifty years.” 

“They know.” Star shook her head. “It wasn’t just Dev, Regina’s a GUN sniper. Scared the hell out of me, but she’s trying to keep me safe. Abe’s here too, and he’s already agreed to-”

“Star. You’re not seriously working with GUN, are you?” Shadow sat her upright, hands on her shoulders so he could inspect her face. He looked incredulous and, by the subtle twitch of his eye and ear, a little angry. “There’s no way you’ve forgotten what they did.”

“Of course I haven’t.” Star shook her head. “Trust me, I’m not thrilled about it either. But there’s no other force on this planet equipped and organized enough to even attempt to challenge the Black Arms. And you don’t get mad that Rouge works with them!”

“Rouge is different. She’s playing them for her own ends, like she does Eggman. But I know you, you don’t have the heart to let anyone you think is depending on you down and you have too much integrity to lie like that, even to people like GUN.”

“Right now, GUN is the only thing standing between a planet full of innocent people and Black Doom himself.” She breathed. 

Shadow made a soft growling sound and looked away, eyes falling to the scan badge on her lapel. “I hate that you’re right.” 

“I just went to another base, and Emory helped me access some of Gerald’s records.” Star took his hands in hers, holding them tightly. “We can stop him. We just need the Emeralds… Professor knew they were coming, and I think he intended for us to defeat Black Doom. We can do this together.”

“I won’t work with GUN. If it weren’t for them, he could have told us himself what his plans were. Or at least Maria could have.” He gritted his teeth. “But I’ll look for them independently, and bring them to you.” 

Star’s ears drooped. “I understand… but I don’t like us being separated. Not again.” She didn’t want to come out and say she was terrified every moment might be the last she ever saw him. She didn’t think she could survive if she lost him again.

Shadow’s expression softened and he met her eyes, brushing her quills back from her face. “Hey. I’m coming back, Starshine. I told you I wouldn’t lose you a third time.” 

She nuzzled into his hand immediately. “I know. I just… this is so much bigger than us. And if we fail, Maria’s world…” 

“We won’t fail. We’re the Ultimate Lifeforms, remember.” He gently tipped her chin up. “Now kiss me before I go, and I’ll stay in contact.” 

Star smiled and leaned in, pressing her lips to his firmly and letting him wrap her up in his arms for one lingering embrace. He was right… they’d be okay. They’d stop the Black Arms together, and finally prove once and for all that they were the heroes Maria had always seen in them. How perfect, to use Black Arms blood against Black Doom himself and destroy his scheme before he could put it to use. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Shadow murmured as he broke away, standing up on the barrel before disappearing with a pop. 

Star sighed and clambered down, knowing he was still nearby. Without an emerald, warping was short range only. But for now, she couldn’t dwell on what he was doing or thinking. She had a world to save, and when that was done they’d have the awkward conversations with her family about aliens and GUN agents… and maybe, she’d try to get those recordings from the bases so she could let Shadow see Maria again too. 

She shook the thought off and scrubbed at her face to sober her thoughts up before warping inside the base. She landed on her feet right next to Emory and Regina, standing next to Dev’s setup as he packed it up to start moving to an armored vehicle so he could work as a mobile command unit for them. He nearly fumbled his radio when she appeared with a cracking sound, both him and Regina jumping visibly. Emory just looked at her, smiling worriedly, as they both helped their father catch his equipment. “You okay now?”

“Better. I talked to Shadow.” Star nodded. 

“How the hell did you just do that?!” Dev gasped, holding his chest. 

“I just can. Chaos abilities.” Star kept looking at Emory. “Shadow’s refusing to work with GUN, but he’s going to look for the Emeralds and call me directly. We should be able to get this wrapped up before the comet makes landfall.” 

Regina, quicker to recover than her husband, nodded. “Commander Tower’s authorizing us to move as a strike team. We’re not the only ones.” 

“Oh?” Star raised an eyebrow. 

Rouge’s heels touched down next to her and she turned just as the bat leaned on her shoulder dramatically. “I’ll be running Team Dark, along with a couple friends of yours.” 

“Friends?” Star squinted as she was turned around. Behind Rouge was a familiar round little robot, next to a much larger combat type with red and black paint. Both of them had stars painted on their chassis’. “Eggdoc?” 

“It is just Doc now, Miss Star.” The medical robot rushed forward, taking her hands in his metal ones. “Are you well? You look better than previous encounters, but your cortisol levels are excessively high.” 

“Just stress from the invasion. I’m glad you’re okay.” She patted his round form when he released her fingers. “Where have you been?”

“I am the democratically selected leader of the Starniks. We are defected Eggman robots, and have been living on a barrier island and raiding our creator’s bases to free other robots. This is E-123, Omega. He wishes to fight the aliens… and other robots that refuse to defect.” 

“I dislike the inferior models.” Omega muttered, surprisingly sassy for his modulated voice. 

“Omega is displeased Eggman deactivated him. He has a… mission of his own.” Doc explained. 

Star nodded. “Mind Rouge, then. She’ll need you both.”

Rouge smiled. “We’ll keep an eye on your loverboy too, since he’s being dramatic.” 

“He has his reasons.” Star ran her hand back through her quills unhappily. “But… thank you. I don’t like him going off on his own, but I can’t stop him. And I need to do this if he can’t… we’re complimentary by design.” 

“You’re leaning real hard into your destiny being preordained.” Rouge said wisely. “Cut yourself some slack. Can you do this without coming apart? We don’t need you collapsing.”

“I have to.” Star nodded, looking back at Regina. “What’s our team?”

“Team Starlight.” Regina smiled, booping her nose fondly. “I thought you’d like it.”

Star softened. “I do.”

“Team Sonic and Team Rose are here too. Chaotix Detective Agency isn’t officially sanctioned, buuuuuut they’ll be around.” Rouge smiled. “You should have seen Abe’s face when he had to sanction Amy, Big, and little Cream.”

Star groaned. “She’s six. She needs to be in the same place as Lizzie.”

“Not my circus, not my bunnies.” Rouge shrugged. “But we’ll keep an eye on them and send some of the other Starniks to keep them safe. It’ll have to be enough.”

Regina sighed. “Hate that. Thanks.”

Emory hooked her pinky with Star’s gently. “Let’s go find Tails, between him and I we can start hunting the Emeralds. We can’t waste any time.”

“Keep that spirit. Cause I probably won’t be sleeping until this is done.” Star let her lead her away, towards the flash of red, blue, and gold in the corner. “I didn’t the last time I was Emerald Hunting either.”

“I want that story later.”

“Let’s worry about living that long first.”

[novankenn]

Steadfast, Immovable (1)

Chaos swarmed the Arc estate, a horde of grimm a size unlike the warrior family ever encountered rushed their walls and defenses. Auto-cannons, and auto-guns, roared to life, cutting great swaths through the closing mass of darkness. In the main yard, Nathaniel Arc and His wife Jasmine readied their weapons, as did their eldest children. About them, the staff piled into waiting transports with their families. Many wanted to stay behind, to stand with the family that treated them with so much respect and love. They wanted to protect this slice of peace and prosperity with everything they had.

“It’s time, husband.” Jasmine spoke formally as she readied her auto-gun. “We have need.”

“I know.” Nathaniel replied as he readied his chain sword. Adjusting his stance easily in his bulky power armor. “But is he ready? The strain it would put on him.”

“We face annihilation. He should be given the chance to stand with his family, to and face our final demise, like an Arc should. We stand together always, even in the face of inevitable death.”

“Then…” Nathaniel paused, as he touched the rosary hanging around his neck, and let his finger press in on the skull situated in the center of the Arc Crest. “So it shall be.”

/=/

“So, what is the situation in Ansel, Qrow?” Ozpin asked his long time friend and confidant as he sipped from his mug, while looking out the windows of his office.

“We found two survivors of the family, they were inside a bunker about five clicks from the estate with the rest of the town’s population. But the place is a disaster zone.” came Qrows steady voice over the speakers of Ozpin’s private terminal, even though the video feed was choppy.

“I see. So the Arc family?”

“They went down fighting, no way to tell how many they took with them, but I would say they more than lived up to their name and reputation, but we do have two Arcs who survived.”

“Survivors?” Ozpin bit his lip, a small sense of relief passed through him. “Who?”

“Saphron and Juniper; but there’s something else, Oz.”

“Else? What are you talking about?” Oz turned from the windows to look at his terminal, and the glitchy video feed.

“Picture, Ironwoods Prototype Paladin, but bigger, meaner and trigger-happy.”

“Qrow?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, Oz. There is stuff I’ve never thought existed, I mean weapons and power armor, the likes that would make Jimmy salivate. The Arc’s have some real weird shit out here, and that thing is included on that list.” Ozpin waited, watching Qrow wiping his face with a grime cover hand. “I think you should come out. I’d send a video feed, but the signal is shit, and it won’t stop trying to take our heads off.”

“The risks. If she found out I was out and about.”

“In this case, I think the risks are worth it.”

“I see.” Ozpin set his empty mug down on his desk, “Anything else, I should know?”

“A lot, but it's better you see it in person. I don’t know where this tech came from, but it outclasses anything I’ve ever seen.”

“And how are Juniper and Saphron?”

“How, do you think?  You have a two-year-old and a five-year-old who are just finding out their whole family was slaughtered.” Qrow paused, Opin saw him take a swig from his flask. “Physically, they seem to be unharmed, as far as we can tell. Emotionally and mentally, I have no idea.”

“Are you sure?”

“Oz, get your ass out here. Sums is with the girls. But I need help. Whatever this thing is, it won’t let anyone in to examine the bodies, or set foot near the main compound. I think it has some type of AI, and probably a whole host of tech that’s letting it counter any move I make.”

“I’ll see what I can…”

“Don’t see, Oz. Just do it.” Qrow snapped, “I’m going to make a perimeter check, while Sum stays at the bunker with the girls. Get here soon, and bring some help.”

“I’ll have Glynda arrange a bullhead for us. We should be there early this evening.”

“Be better if you brought more than just Glynda… be ready for weird shit.”

“Do really think that is necessary?”

“At least bring Bart.” Qrow replied, “I should do that patrol.  See you when you get here.”

Ozpin nodded in response as the call was ended. Taking a deep breath as he let his ind try to fathom why this had happened, he sent both Glynda and Bart a message requesting that they meet him at the bullhead pads in an hour. Regardless of why, the result was the same. A stalwart and valuable compatriot in his secret war had been removed from the board; and Vale’s southern border was now undefended. /== Table of Contents ==/

A/N I will say this now. All I know about Warhammer 40k is from youtube, so if I screw anything up... please be gentle or point me in the right direction. I have no clue if I'll do more than what I have posted now... I'm mentally drained and sort of sifting through old content to post things to show I'm not totally MIA.

[continuedparadox]

Hysteria: A very unserious review that is probably hot garbage but whatever

I guess being a self-proclaimed musical connoisseur on tumblr would've resulted in my adopting this format eventually.

So anyway welcome to the first edition of continuedparadox's Album Review, hosted by me, your host, @continuedparadox, where I, continuedparadox, as host, review albums (and standalone songs too maybe; idk i haven't fully thought this through… oh well) using the ever-reliable method of Personal Opinion, live as I listen through. You're welcome for all the unfiltered and only mildly edited stream of consciousness. Of course, by virtue of being on tumblr, you can argue with me all you want about what i say here but keep in mind that this is of course the internet where nothing truly matters and the wild west of hot-takes and unsourced info is truly flourishing and so i will redirect you to a liberal application of the block feature if you so choose :)

This edition is coming to you at the behest of @doveturneddestroyer who has been literally begging me to listen to the Def Leppard discography for more than a year now, and now that I have absolutely no free time, it seems like the perfect time to do so. So anyway, kaelea, you win. here we go. Let's see what all the… hysteria about Hysteria is about.

First Opinions: On first listen, Hysteria sounds like the characteristic 70's british glam rock influenced, roaring guitar heavy riff based melodic movements mashing into a crap-load of let's-produce-this-sucker-to-hell-and-worry-about-how-we-play-it-live-later energy… and it works for the end product. In hindsight looking at it as I am in 2025, I feel that they went a little overboard on some of the songs, but for the time that it was made in, Hysteria makes for an awesome sound.

Women - unexpected bi anthem? I love songs that have innuendo baked accidentally into the lyrics and having this song as the opener was a centering moment of what def leppard is all about. they aren't taking themselves too seriously and just having fun and making it up as they go along. Truly the best way to go about anything. The guitars are very 80s holy shit, and they have three of them at any given time? ooh mama.

Rocket - opening perc./rhythm section is awesome. it's a ‘let’s all just say random cool sounding space words and hope it’s coherent at the end’-ass song. the reversed audio clips sampling various other parts of the album was a cool touch and it's this kind of experimentation that tells you that the music you're listening to is constantly being evolved and keeping things fresh. and as a space nerd, any song about rocketry is a big plus!

Animal - maybe I’m a freak but i feel that this song needs more desperation. It’s too upbeat to be about pure, raw desire as it’s claiming to be. And sure, you can argue that it's just my 21st century terminally-online expectations jarring with the time it's from, but, dear reader, I point you to Excitable, also on this album, and still conveying the same message but just…more. This song just feels over-produced and the end result in my opinion is worse off. Were DL trying to be clever with the new tech? Somehow that didn't fully work here.

Love Bleeds Bites - if you combine toto's hold the line with any 70s pop ballad you get this song. actually, it sounds like if you asked richard marx to write a more write a rock-influenced song, and he in turn emulated brian may's songwriting. And hey, I like every single one of those artists and I like this song.

Pour Some Sugar On Me - classic 80s rock track. 3.6 roentgen. Call and response is better than that of animal, and I can see why a lot of chatter designates this one as The Def Leppard song to get their vibe. do i think it's their strongest song? eh. depends on what your definition is, but it is definitely what i have felt encompasses the quintessential Def Leppard vibe, so i'll give it an A-

Armageddon It - I want to cover this song. Rhythm section is driving this one. Adding this to my road trip playlist. Because oh my goodness this is catchy!

Gods of War - so far my fav. Surprise reagan and thatcher were a surprise. For being one their handful of explicitly political songs, it's surprisingly cohesive? I was pleasantly surprised by this unabashed energy and the message is very solid and one I can get behind.

Don't Shoot Shot Gun - okay we’re back to being silly now! It's another 80s rock tune and the expectations are met. The chorus and bridge have some of the characteristics of the hook from paperback writer, which is still a weird connection i think i'm reading too much into.

Run Riot - …i’ll be honest I really thought this song was just DSSG but extended. It just did not have enough character by itself and could easily have been outright omitted or frankensteined off onto other songs or spun off onto a different album and i can't figure out why it wasn't. :(

Hysteria - So it turns out I had listened to the title track when i was a wee lad of 14, stumbling through my first ever romance (and that's a whole story for another time), but totally forgot about it until like two days ago when the song conveniently popped up on the radio. ahhh nostalgia you heartless bitch. you speak in tones of heartbreak and yearning and i am a fool chucking my loose change at your busk. Something about that guitar makes me feel like I’m the protag of a late 2000s coming of age film

Excitable - this song is what Animals wishes it was. Like seriously, it's got everything that I found animals lacking; why would you not put this masterpiece higher on the tracklist? DL I have so many questions!

Love and Affection - take an early taylor swift’s songwriting, add a driving rhythm section courtesy of Benny, Bjorn and Prince and have The Edge take a crack at a guitar solo. That’s how you make this song as I understand it.

Tear it down - finally! A song whose guitar solo I like. to explain more: you know when you hear a tasty guitar riff or line that makes you face all scrunchy because something about it makes your brain itch just the right way and gives you a mild eargasm? yeah that's what this does to me.

I wanna be your hero - Funky. idk what's going on but i dig it. 'hot licks on the tip of my tongue' more innuendo that i approve!

Ride into the Sun - banger. 10/10 no notes.

Ring of Fire - Yet another song that should've replaced whatever Animals became. It's a lot more poetic with interesting imagery and I feel like it's a solid middle of the pack song.

Overall, I was pleasantly surprised by how this album subverted my initial opinion of Def Leppard being just another 80s rock band, and knowing that even art that gets bogged down in production hell and skyrocketing costs can still have charm and moments of pure humanity. And it's hard not to like it! Hysteria is not perfect by any means but it's a solid record.

Anyway, if you read all of that hot steaming whatever it is (gods help your sanity), and you want me to review another album, feel free to request it. I may eventually get to it if I feel like procrastinating (which is trending to be pretty frequent :3)

[tarotoftheendless]

Hey... So, yeah, my Waiting for Forever fanfic has been on hiatus... I do plan on continuing to write it, just life stuff has come up, same with just crippling depression.

I have plans for my Waiting for Forever fanfic, so it will come, just slowly, sadly... I love Willie too much to abandon him.

I also have had some other great ideas for fanfics that I both would either like to write myself or allow someone else to write with some input from me on the idea. Most of the ideas for fanfics I have are things I would love to read myself, so...

Of course all my ideas are Tom Sturridge related... Here are some of my ideas for fanfics... If you want to write it yourself, just please reach out to me and ask me what my full idea was and maybe give me a bit of credit for helping to come up with it, that's all I ask if you are gonna write before I have the chance to.

Tom Sturridge fanfic Ideas:

Nathan from 'Skin'. It's an 11 minute short film that showcases how amazing Tom is as an actor. He gives so much to this performance, I was floored.

What we were able to get from the story is that he is grieving the death of his husband. Well, I am assuming Daniel, that's the man's name that Nathan was with, was his husband considering it seemed like it was more than just boyfriends.

The AI voice never states what Company that Nathan works for, so I have been calling it The Company... Which started to sound ominous in my head. It could be a tech company, but it could also be a company with illuminati levels of influence...

My idea, vaguely, was that after the stunt that Nathan pulls to manipulate the AI into playing a recording of his husband's voice, The Company makes him agree to a Live-In Companion, much like a Companion from Firefly but less just a one and done. And in my mind Nathan is bisexual. He agrees, but chooses a female companion.

She is to stay with him for three months, helping him with whatever he needs, like whatever he needs, to help him heal from his grief of losing his husband... So he is work ready again for The Company. If he fails to become work ready in that time or if he does not sign the documentation to start the process, The Company will terminate him and take him to court over the stunt he pulled.

I have so many ideas for this, all of them very thriller sci-fi conspiracy and action, with smut of course thrown in there. Like what if The Company gave Nathan's husband the cancer he ultimately died of? Why? For what reason? Juicy shit my guys, juicy shit.

I wish I could write this myself... And maybe I will... Unless someone else likes it so much to collab with me on it?

Anyway, next idea....

Jake. Jakey. Baby Jakey. Sweetbitter.

So, I had a thought awhile ago that Jake would be great with a roller derby chick... But then I thought maybe he would be great with a professional dancer... Like all styles of dance. She has spent her life training in dance. And she moves into the apartment next door to Jake's place. No new hire at the restaurant bullshit. She is removed from it because that is what Jake needs in a relationship. Something separate from the restaurant.

I had the thought that she was hired to be the choreography coordinator at Broadway, so, she is a career driven woman, something I think Jake needs. Vision. And I think this dancer OC would help him see that he is a good enough photographer to actually pursue that as a career.

Like what if she shows her boss at Broadway his work and her boss wants to hire him for a fuck ton of money to shoot dress rehearsal and opening night, where his photos will be chosen for an article on the play in The New York Times, who is looking for a new journalist photographer. Like it could be life changing.

I had the thought that the play would be the musical Moulin Rouge...

And yeah, Jake will be Jake about it, self-doubt, the Simone of it all. But I think it could work. Giving Jake a partner that believes in him and wants him to choose something for himself and himself alone just this once.

Anyway... Another idea I have is a parody idea... Of a cross-over of The Great British Baking Show and The Sandman. Like it's a promotional episode of TGBBS for The Sandman.

The actors playing The Endless would do the Signature and Technical as themselves, the actors, but for the Show-Stopper, they are their characters.

It was a funny idea. And I don't know all the actors and characters enough to write it believably, so, someone who does, please write this. I think it would be so fucking funny.

And who would win? Is it just one episode or are they doing multiple to actually get the The Endless that is the star of The Great British Baking Show?

Anyway, those are my ideas for fanfics... And yeah, I still am gonna write my Waiting for Forever fanfic, it's just slow going...

Here's a cute Willie for now 😘

[callme6olet]

The Neon Glow

The struggle with cyberpunk is that it's supposed to be punk, but it's also all too real. The days of Neuromancer and Johnny Mnemonic are behind us. The idea of the sci-fi corporate supercity, this neon-limned sprawl of concrete, vice, and pollution no longer seems like a frighteningly possible dystopia, but like an exaggerated reality. At its inception, cyberpunk existed in a liminal state between the primary and secondary worlds. These stories were ostensibly set on a futuristic Earth, but there was a sense that it was an alternate future, that these worlds were a warning about something that only had the slimmest possibility of really happening. They read like secondary worlds in the same way that Middle Earth reads as a secondary world: familiar in its bones, in its soul, but not in its details. The fact that that gap is closing, that we're watching those prophecies unfold, is at the heart of the current generation of post-cyberpunk fiction. Gibson's Agency, Stephenson's Termination Shock. Matrix: Resurrections. These stories deal not only with the dread of capitalism's brutal advance, but also (in my opinion) with the writers' mixed feelings over having predicted it, over creating a vision and aesthetic so powerful that our world is actually changing--purposefully--to match it. Just look at the MetaVerse. A Stephenson invention, now marketed as a reality, like that's supposed to be exciting.

This is a problem for me, because I love writing cyberpunk. I stumbled onto The Matrix in middle school, but it didn't sink its teeth in until I came across Shadowrun 4th Edition at Borders. Here was a world that felt lived in, in much the same way that the original Star Wars must've wowed people in the 70's. Arguably, Star Wars and cyberpunk both fit into the classic definition of the latter: high tech, low life. Luke is a farmer; Han's a drug trafficker. And while Star Wars is and will remain my all-time favorite, the cyberpunk genre brought an edge with it, something that grabbed hold of me, hit the dopamine button in my brain: the neon glow. Holograms and flickering advertisements in a rainy night. Smog dyeing the sunset crimson and purple. LEDs glowing from every nook and cranny.

And now, your average gamer's battlestation looks like something out of Bladerunner. And part of me rebels against that: do we not realize that we're losing? We're a couple short steps away from corporate citizenship, for god's sake.

That sense of doubt, that itch, pokes at me when I'm writing and find myself describing more of the same. It made me feel sick watching Edgerunners. The idea of losing your family to random violence because you don't make enough for health insurance isn't fiction--so why is this show dressing it up like it is? Like that's just as outlandish as a thousand-foot holo ad, a street tough with mantis blades in her arms? Did the showrunners not know what they were doing, somehow? Were they just jumping into this genre because they read Neuromancer once, thought it was such a wacky idea?

But then--oh-so-late to the party--I started playing 2077. I rebelled against it at first, felt the same itch, the same existential dread. But then the story revved into overdrive, and all at once, I realized: this here, it's the classic example of tropes done right. The world might be forty years old, but it's flawlessly realized. And, more than that, it is aware of the genre it exists in, of the evolution. There's something about the game that makes me want to be V, to live in a world where you have to carry an SMG to leave the apartment. To live loud. Even a month ago, I would've said it's the feeling of agency, the idea that, in a world of violent conflict, each person is more able to make a large-scale impact. But I don't think that's it, not really. Night City crushes you, makes even the most outrageous victories seem short-lived, insignificant blips against the weight of the world.

The moments that shine out aren't the big ones, they're the small ones. Seeing Mama Welles at the wake. A visit from a stray cat. Going to the ripperdoc and seeing the option to change appearance, because in that world, it's just that easy, and all of a sudden, I can be seeing a face I like in the mirror.

And here's the crazy thing: part of this reality we've stumbled into, this pseudo-cyberpunk corporatocracy, is the fact that's it's almost that easy to switch bodies here, too. We're getting there. There is beauty in all things, even the dark ones. There is beauty, too, in the impetuous, borderline-nihilism of an edgerunner, in the willigness to engage in hopeless rebellion. And there is a beauty in neon lights.

The meaning of the word punk hasn't changed, never will, but its expression has. In the 80's, it meant drinking and smoking because Mom and Dad said not to. Now, what gives me hope is going to punk shows in underground venues and seeing drug-free youth graffitied across the PA. It's realizing that rebellion changes as society changes. That, even though we might live in a dystopia, that dystopia will never choke out the beauty of our reality. So, I'm keeping the mirrored shades; I'm switching the LED strips back on; and I'm going to keep writing about cities bathed in the neon glow.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

A/N: i may have a little surprise for you guys tomorrow... (not related to this fic)

Masterlist

Chapter 15

“Jo! Please bring your suitcase downstairs so Daddy can load it into the car,” you called up the stairs.

“How high does the plane go up in the air? Who is the pilot? How fast does it go?” Jo asked as she walked down the stairs.

Jo had been asking a lot of questions about planes recently since you told her that you all were taking a little trip. You were going to Las Vegas so Diana could meet Jo.

Spencer was ecstatic about it so you tried to hide your growing anxiety to not kill his mood. You had already met Diana multiple times when you would accompany Spencer on road trips home on long weekends in college and she seemed to love you. But that was before you had her granddaughter and didn’t tell her or her son for six years. Not to mention the fact that you and Spencer were now dating again and living together.

“Those are questions for Daddy on the ride to the airport,” you ushered her out the front door, locking it.

Jo repeated her questions again once in the car.

“The plane will fly at about 5.9 to 7.2 miles up in the air. I don’t know who the pilot is but we can ask. Commercial planes fly at about 547 to 575 miles per hour which is about 14 times faster than the speed we are driving right now,” Spencer informed her.

“Woah,” Jo exclaimed, “I’ve never been on a plane before.”

“Yes you have, Baby J. You were just too young to remember it. You and Mommy flew from California to here,” you said.

Once you made it through check-in and security, you were waiting in the terminal for your flight to start boarding. Spencer came back with coffee and breakfast sandwiches for you both and a chocolate milk and donut munchkins for Jo.

“Thanks, Spence,” you gave him a quick kiss before unwrapping your sandwich.

“Jo, look!” Spencer pointed to a woman in a uniform, “I think that’s our pilot. Do you want to go say hi?”

Jo nodded shyly. She seemed to be a little starstruck.

“Come here, Princess,” Spencer lifted her up and walked over to the lady.

You watched from afar as the woman nodded her head to Spencer’s first question so she must be the pilot. She seemed very enthusiastic to answer any and all of Jo’s questions. She knelt down to her bag and gave something to Jo, waving goodbye.

“Mommy! I got wings!” Jo held up a little wing pin.

“Oh my gosh, sweetie! That is so cool!” you smiled, pinning it to her sweater.

“Do you want to be a pilot when you grow up, Jo?” Spencer asked.

“Yes,” she beamed.

“You can be whatever you want, Josephine,” you smiled, kissing her cheek.

-

It was the middle of the night. You couldn’t possibly sleep, knowing you were going to have to face Diana in the morning. You were expecting the cold shoulder from her at the very least.

You were sitting on the cool hotel bathroom floor, silently crying with your knees pulled up to your chest and your head tucked in between.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Spencer quickly rushed over to you, sitting down beside you.

Either your crying was louder than anticipated or he just woke up to use the bathroom because you forgot to lock the door.

“Your mom hates me and I know how much her approval means to you,” you sniffled, not looking up.

“Baby, can you look at me please?” he whispered.

You hesitantly looked up to meet Spencer’s sympathetic gaze. He used the bottom of his t-shirt to wipe the tears from your face, pulling you in for a hug.

“She doesn’t hate you, I promise. She is overjoyed to meet her granddaughter,” he assured you.

“What if she’s just not telling you, Spence? She is seeing Jo for the first time at the age of 6, I honestly wouldn’t blame her for being pissed,” you were crying again.

Spencer pulled back and cupped your face, wiping away the fresh tears with his thumbs.

“I’m really sorry, I got so excited I forgot to consider how you’re feeling. I can take Jo alone tomorrow if you don’t want to go,” he said.

“No, I want to go,” you replied with no hesitation.

Spencer smiled softly, “If you feel uncomfortable at any point, we will leave but I swear she is not harboring any animosity towards you.”

“Does she know we are living together and dating again?” you asked softly.

“Yes, she does. Let me tell you she was not happy when I broke up with you the first time so I can assure you she approves of us getting back together,” he chuckled.

He elicited a quiet giggle from you.

“Would you like to go back to bed?” he asked softly.

You nodded and Spencer helped you up off the floor and back to bed. Spencer wrapped his arms around you and you snuggled into his chest, finally getting some rest.

-

“Dr. Reid! Diana has not stopped talking about this visit all week! She is having a wonderful day!” the nurse at the front desk chirped.

“Thank you. Is she in her room?” he asked.

“Yes, you know the way!” she said, gesturing down the hall.

You and Spencer stopped right outside her door, halting Jo’s movement as well because she was in between you both, holding each of your hands.

Spencer knelt down to her level, “Do you remember who we are meeting?”

“Your Mommy,” Jo said.

“So that makes her your Grandma,” Spencer smiled.

“I already have a Grandma,” Jo said, confused.

“You have two Grandmas now, Baby J,” you explained.

Jo still seemed a little confused and made a grabby motion for you to pick her up.

Spencer knocked on the door and opened it a crack.

“Mom?” Spencer said.

“Oh, Spencer!” you heard the familiar voice excitedly shout from inside.

You entered the room with Jo nuzzled into your neck. Jo tended to get very shy around new people and liked to cling to you or Spencer until she warmed up.

Once Diana finished hugging Spencer, she turned to you and Jo.

“Hi, Y/N! Good to see you! Let me see my beautiful granddaughter,” she chirped.

“Good to see you too,” you smiled, “Jo, can you say hi?”

Jo nuzzled further into your neck.

“How about if you sit in Daddy’s lap?” you whispered in her ear.

She nodded and you handed her over to Spencer, taking the seat next to him on the couch.

“Oh, look at her precious little face. She looks just like Spencer did at that age. Hello, Josephine,” Diana smiled.

“Jo, how about you tell Grandma what we did yesterday,” you prompted her.

“We went on a plane and I got this,” Jo pointed to the wings that she was still wearing today.

“Oh my, the pilot must have thought you were a very important little girl then,” Diana nodded.

Jo beamed as you reached over to your bag.

“Um we brought some of Jo’s toys if you want to play with her,” you asked Diana.

“Of course! I would love nothing more!”

-

“I have to pee,” Jo tugged at Spencer’s sleeve.

“Okay, let’s go,” Spencer lifted her up.

Shit. As much as Spencer assured you that his mom didn’t hold a grudge, you were scared of the ‘girl talk’ that would ensue when he left the room. You couldn’t really offer to take Jo because you didn’t know where the bathrooms were.

Once the door to the room clicked shut, you felt Diana’s eyes on you.

“So long time, no see,” she said.

“Yeah,” you chuckled nervously.

“Now I’m Spencer’s mom and I’m supposed to see him as perfect but one of the biggest mistakes he ever made was leaving you and I made sure I let him know that. And I didn’t even know you were pregnant at the time. You both just had this special bond that was so clear to anyone who was within twenty feet of you. I am so grateful that you gave him the opportunity to come back into you and your daughter’s life,” Diana spoke.

You were tearing up at how nice she was being. She didn’t blame you for any of it.

“Can I hug you?” you asked with watery eyes.

“Of course, my dear,” she opened her arms, “I am so lucky to call you family.”

Spencer returned to see two of the most important people in his life hugging and the third was in his arms.

[itsagrimm]

Imperial!Tech 3

Summary: Tech's chip activated instead of Crosshairs so Tech is now an imperial commander tasked to serve the Empire at any cost. But is he willing to do so? And are you, dear Y/N as member of the experimental Elite Squad, willing to follow any order your commander Tech gives?

CN: self-harm, talk of death murder and war crimes, stalker behaviour, soldier life in a fascist state, power imbalance, overreaching behaviour, structural violence, sexually predatory behaviour and the likes, sensual overload, insomnia, references of drug abuse, depression and mental health issues, trauma

Imperial!tech X they*them Y/N reader, afab

Thanks a lot to @eyecandyeoz for your insight, feedback and thoughts. Check out their lovely blog!

I am sorry it took me so long. next part will be faster. I already started writing it.

And feel free to criticise especially concerning my use of CN and if the reader perspective is inclusive for you.

2800 words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Tech collapsed into the chair as soon as Y/N had left the room. He was tired, so tired. He leaned back and put on his glasses. Him taking off his visual aids around Y/N was a degree of trust Tech rarely allowed. He was nearly blind without his glasses and the Kaminoans had considered terminating him for that. Tech was sure Y/N did not even know how much he had surrendered himself to Y/N and their touch. Their oh so soft touch. The memory of it was still fresh on his skin. It raced through is mind which for once was craving to match his body with the need to slow down and take a rest.

But it didn’t.

Y/N was pleasant to be around. Their touch was careful and considered. Only his brothers used to treat him like his. – His brothers, the former clone force 99, had left him behind after they refused to comply with order 66. Due to their divergence the inhibitor chip had not worked while he, Tech, had tried to kill the Jedi. – He had tried to kill a child. – The effect of the inhibitor chip was decreasing. His wound received on Bracca had an 84,743 % chance of damaging the inhibitor chip. But he should investigate further and get the chip out to stop any possible interference with his superior thought process. - Y/N was not aware of the inhibitor chips. He felt the need to tell them. Why? – The Havoc Marauder had not been mentioned on the imperial comm chatter for a while. – Echo was likely to take care of the ship now. – He should get some sustenance. He felt hunger. – Y/N – The Empire expected a degree of loyalty, uniformity, and compliance he was unsure he could deliver for long considering his diverging mind. – what would Hunter do? – the kaminoan proverb “yn’ja tha vaí m°O” was untranslatable into Basic but could be understood in Sit Bisti as “it needs tö be döne för the betterment öf äll”- The Empire was unlikely to grant him the freedom to find his brothers or in fact any freedom. – The canteen might serve Tiingilar tonight – He was a child slave destined to die in approximately 34,6 standard yearly rotations from old age if not sooner. – maybe the canteen will serve uj’alayi too. – Does Y/N speak Mando’an? He should enquire. – Of course, there will be no uj’alayi today. The Kaminoans did not allow sweet foods. – Y/N – How did the atmospheric controls work that ensured breathable air even for the highest floors of coruscanti buildings? - He knew why his brothers left him behind, but why did it feel so painful. – The empire was likely to kill him if he out served his usefulness for them. - He had tried to kill a child. He had killed several children on Onderon. How could he live with that? How could-

Tech forced his thoughts to stop by digging his fingers into his bloody scar.

The sharp pain felt soothing.

“Let’s consider making a list of the most pressing tasks for now.”

He starred at the ceiling.

“The Empire. It is the closest threat to my demise, but it can be my salvation if I am useful. Am I willing and capable to do that?”

His head started spinning again just at the thought of killing another child for the Empire. And yet serving the Empire gave him purpose he wasn’t sure he could muster on his own.

“Where are my brothers? How are they? How do I feel about them?”

Another unpleasant wave of thoughts and feelings washed over Tech before he continued.

“What is with the inhibitor chip inside my head?”

He nodded to himself. That was a rational and containable problem with fixed variables and clear answers. He felt comfortable with that question, pushing aside all the things he might have done due to being under the chips influence.

Only one question was left now.

“Why do I enjoy Y/N presence?”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ryloth had a warm and dusty climate during daytime. Y/N felt sweat dripping under the dark armour. The elite squad, including a new ES-03, was ordered to stand close by to Admiral Rampart, the highest imperial officer on Ryloth. And so, they had spent the last rotations following the Admiral around, doing tedious security work and presenting themselves like the Admirals favourite guard dogs to a public very much disliking their military presence. For once, even commander Tech looked annoyed about their not spec-ops appropriate services.

Today they were on the outlook. The Admiral wanted them scanning a large crowd for troublemakers and resistance fighters during a public announcement. Y/N couldn’t blame them. The Twi’lek of Ryloth had spent years fighting for their independence and spilled an ocean of blood on the dusty planet’s surface only to face an Empire now. Half a life ago Y/N would have hated themselves for being a soldier in service of a suppressing ruler. But now it was paid work.

“ES-01?”, Commander Tech brought Y/N back from their thoughts

“I am in position before the crowd.”

“ES-02?”

“Yes sir, I am on the building as you ordered.”

“ES-03?”

“Any nonimperial transmissions are being blocked now.”

“ES-04?”

“The war hawk is ready for take-off in case we need it.”

“Good. Do you register any noteworthy activity?

Y/N gazed through the crowd. They were mostly Twi’lek, waiting to hear from their leaders. All of them were in civilian clothing, none came with visible weapons.

“I can’t spot anything, sir.”

Tech said nothing. But Y/N could hear him type something.

“Analysing previous rebel fighter behaviour and strategies in similar situations they are likely to appear at these coordinates within the crowd today. I am sending you a list for you to especially pay attention to, ONCE.”, he finally said using the moniker the elite squad had given Y/N.

“Yes sir.”

Y/N looked at their holopad and started checking the coordinates commander Tech had calculated. At entry four they spotted their targets.

“Commander. I have a visual about 40 meters from my position, 10 o’clock. There are two fighters. Twi’lek. One female and one male passing. Shade of blue and orange.”

A moment everyone was silent.

“Confirmed.”, ES-02 stated.

Another moment passed.

“Observe them for now. Stay alert.”, Tech ordered before ending the transmission.

High above the Twi’lek senator started to talk. Y/N could not remember his name and paid little attention to his words. Unlike the Twi’lek.

“They are not happy.”, ES-02 stated flatly.

“Yeah thanks, I would not have noticed without you.”

“Always a pleasure to help out, ONCE.”

ES-02 was right. The crowd was angry. The imperial presence, the empty words of some disaffected politician, the fresh memories of the clone war. It was no surprise that the Twi’lek called out for their resistance leaders to speak.

“We want Syndulla! We want Syndulla!”, the crowd chanted.

A different voice from above started speaking. The crowd calmed down, not entirely happy but at least not a raging mob.

“At least we will not have to gun them down, now.”, ES-02 mumbled with a bitter voice.

“Would you really do that, two?”

“You know what they say, good soldiers follow orders, ONCE. And I intend to be one. Especially when I’m getting paid for it.”

XXXXXXXXXXX

Rampart was an asshole. He was a smug little administrator, willing to lie, back-stab and sacrifice whatever needed to achieve his goals. Rampart was the perfect general to handle a loaded situation like the one on Ryloth. And he was no fool.

Y/N hat noticed that he had kept both commander Tech and Howzer, the commanding clone trooper in charge of the regular clone troopers on Ryloth, close. A strategic move. Spec-ops commandos like the elite squad and regular commandos were in constant competition and mistrust to each other. Should one commander not deliver or even consider treason the other would interfere. And Rampart would always end up on the winning side of their clone infighting.

Y/N could here their arguing inside the office.

Commander Tech had ordered for Y/N to wait outside the office for new orders.

More arguing from the office was audible until finally Ramparts voice cut their bickering short.

The door opened and Howzer left. His expression was that of a practised reserved solider hiding his worries.

The door opened again, and commander Tech stepped outside of Ramparts office.

He looked tense.

Instead of a greeting or an order he just started walking. They followed him.

“Clone force 99 is here. But we are kept on a short leash. As always.”, Tech stated, “It is implausible to not use the best tools possible when confronted with a problem. Howzers troopers will not be able to beat them if necessary. Just like they won’t be able or unwilling to beat the Twi’lek should the need arise.”

Since Kamino the commander had started to share more of his thoughts with Y/N. All they had left to do was to listen and ask the right questions.

“Sir, you think Howzer will commit subordination?”

“There is a possibility of him and his men disagreeing with the new imperial leadership and it’s methods. Howzers unit has fought alongside the Twi’leks the past years. Bounds forged in the trenches can be stronger than loyalty to an administrator from Coruscant. But I require further data to assess the likelihood of treason.”

“What about clone force 99?”

“Their abilities and erratic strategies will be a challenge should we … no, should I have to face them.”

“So, we did not get the order to hunt them down?”

“No. Not yet.”

“And yet you already imply them as of importance.”

“It would be a grave strategic mistake to dismiss their presence.”

“So, what is the elite squad going to do about them? What are your orders, sir?”

Tech paused and adjusted his glasses.

“We are going to do nothing.”

“Sir!?”

“Don’t.” There was a warning in his voice. A signal to Y/N not to cross a line, invisible yet perceptible. He was after all a commander and Y/N just a soldier.

“I am sorry. I overstepped. You are in charge.”

He turned, stepped away and looked at Y/N. His eyes scrutinized them like a scientist inspecting a rare specimen of remarkable value.

They shivered.

His gaze was intriguing. It was painful to feel on display like that. And yet it was nearly intimate to be studied by Tech. Unsure if he would finally hit Y/N for their countless discretions or if he just contemplated their objections.

Finally, Tech nodded appeased and continued his walking without any further talk.

“What do you want us to do now, sir?”

Tech stopped.

“What do I want you to do now?”, Tech repeated as if the question had a different meaning to him than it had to Y/N.

He took out his holopad only to put it away again. He cleared his throat.

“I need you to stay alert. The situation is complicated. For now, get some sleep. The chances are below 4,65 % that there will be a significant development within the next two hours. After that I except the elite squad to be combat ready.”

“Yes sir.”

XXXXXXXXX

The Refresher room was empty. Most clones avoided the elite squad, and all the other members of their unit were taking a nap before the night shift which left Y/N to have the large washroom for themselves.

They signed.

Taking a shower and having some alone time to think and feel before finally taking a rest was what they needed.

Y/N started to strip out of the armour.

First, they took of the helmet, then the vambraces and shin guards before getting the shoulder pieces and lifting the heavy breast armour off before finally getting out of the abdomen armour. The black katarn fell to the floor, making loud echoing noises.

Y/N didn’t care. No one was to correct them on their improper handling of equipment here.

And as much as the armour was a useful necessity, it was a heavy burden in more than one way.

Their blacks followed and soon Y/N was standing under the refresher, naked and alone.

The water was hot and painful.

It was a welcome distraction to all the feelings of … well what exactly?

Y/N felt tears running down their face.

No, no, no. It’s just the refresher.

An uptight sob escaped Y/Ns throat. It was all so different from what they imagined. They had entered imperial service for the payment during a desperate time. And ended up witnessing murder after murder, committing murder.

Today they could have become accomplices to killing a crowd of innocent Twi’leks. And Y/N knew that they would have complied with the order to open fire on the civilians if given. How could they not? Surrounded by troopers like them, ordered around by heartless and calculating commanders.

Would Tech give a killing order like this?

Was he that heartless?

He had done so before.

He had killed so many times before their eyes and yet a piece of Y/N refused to see him as a murderer. In fact, they felt shameful about feeling and thinking about Tech – about their commanding officer – at all.

Y/N stopped fighting the tears and cried out loud.

Nobody would know about this.

Nobody would know about their doubt and vulnerability.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

As always sleep had been an unwilling friend to visit Tech. With a sigh he gave up and got up from the cot. As always, his mind was racing. He had tried the breathing techniques Crosshair taught him after a particular long stretch of insomnia, but it didn’t work.

And Tech wasn’t in the mood to experiment with the vast collection of sedatives to force his body to sleep right before possibly facing his brothers and definitely meeting admiral Rampart soon.

Work it was then.

His holopad listed only unchallenging administrative tasks.

The new Shuttle was in top shape.

His weapons were cleaned.

Tech had nothing to keep is overthinking brain in check.

Kriff, his life really was miserable. A never-ending effort to bringing his spiralling mind some peace.

A notification came in.

What a blessing.

Tech looked at the holopad again. It was just a reminder to check on his subordinates, to listen in on their private talks and vital signs.

The order from Imperial Command was an uncomfortable task but it was the best he had to do right now. And listing in on some snoring was better than listening to the elite squads talk like last time. At least it felt less overreaching.

He started with ES-04 and workout down from there. Four was in deep slumber, nothing of interest to note. ES-03 was still new and his sleep was restless, a few murmurs about his home planet and family escaped his lips. ES-02 was dreaming. His heartrate was accelerated. Tech turned his observation of, not interested in the rutting sounds of ES-02.

ES-01 was left. ONCE. Y/N. The thought of peeping into their private life was not only uncomfortable, but it also felt violent to strip Y/N of their peace and privacy.

And yet, Y/N was the only one Tech WANTED to know more about. He felt his desire to learn more about Y/N like a physical need, an addicting obsession Tech knew he needed to be careful with not to indulge.

Was their slumber peaceful and sweet?

Did they have dreams about home?

Or did they fight their nightmares in sleep just like they did awake?

He swallowed.

He was just following an order.

He will do nothing more.

He was just a good soldier.

Y/N wasn’t asleep. Their bucket was off and there were no vital signs coming of them. But the acoustic signal was working.

Y/N was somewhere with a lot of echoes and running water.

Tech felt himself blushing and getting hot.

They were in the shower.

It felt so right to listen in on Y/N. Tech felt bad about it.

The thought of water running down their bare and naked body made Techs mind slow like nothing ever before. The pleasure of a calm mind made him groan.

He hesitated. This was not okay. He shouldn’t listen. He shouldn’t imagine a subordinate like that. He hated that he had to. He hated that the Empire gave him order to do so. But more than that he hated himself for following that order so willingly.

He reached for the off button on his holopad.

A sob.

Was that Y/N? Were they crying?

Tech’s mind went from zero into overdrive. He needed to know who or whatever made you feel like crying. He would find out. And he would remove whatever it was from your life.

Part 4

[enam3l]

love, lola chapter nine preview!

university has been super busy and these will be two big chapters that’ll drop simultaneously so i’m sorry about the delay. but here’s the opening for the next chapter -

Eddie has just arrived in California with Kraven and his rockstar journey is just beginning but he can’t stop thinking about how you said goodbye.

California is too fucking hot. That is what Eddie Munson has learnt since moving. Far too hot for hair like his and definitely far too hot to stay hidden behind the safety of his leather jacket.

After years of the mind numbing mundanity of Hawkins, Eddie was propelled into the fast pace L.A. mindset. Each morning for a moment his heart hammered, wondering where he was until the palm trees outside the window reminded him it definitely wasn't Indiana. The apartment the record label had set him and rest of Kraven up in was definitely not the trailer - maybe the size of every single one in the park combined.

So far, everyone had been nice; a niceness you're not usually privy to when you're known as 'The Freak'. Kraven were excited he accepted the offer and their label and manager had heralded him the hero of the hour. But a nagging part of Eddie couldn't ignore the feeling that this wasn't really his band, he was a replacement. There was a brotherhood between the band mates long before his arrival and it's hard to ever truly assimilate with a bond like that. Regardless, he was there, escaped the confines of his small town and now living the dream of becoming a rockstar. This was always the fantasy, wasn't it?

September 2nd 1986

For the first time in his life, Eddie is sat in a real life, high tech, actual recording studio. A far cry from Gareth’s egg box insulated garage. An egg shaped chair swallows him whole which feels tediously symbolic of his time so far in California. Everything is much bigger than him. As the band and producers play him the demos they have already, with hopeful looks on their faces, he resorts to anxiously twisting the rings on his fingers. They're a tangible reminder of home. He thumbs them in order. Skull. Pig. Cross and bones. Mom's. But now there's a new edition - yours.

It made its way onto his finger as you said your final goodbyes in the airport terminal and it hasn't left since. Between runny noses and weepy eyes, Eddie frowned as you withdrew from a hug that had already lasted several minutes (which was still not long enough).

'I have something for you, Teddy,' you confess as you sift through your bag.

'You already threw the party, sweetheart. Whatcha wasting money on me for?' He sighs.

The protests were not what you wanted clearly as he's met with a silencing finger until you finally found what you were looking for. Now you chew your lip anxiously, fumbling with a little velvet pouch.

'It's not for going away... it's - well, I gathered, this will be the first time since we met that we've not spent our birthdays together...'

Eddie's stomach drops, he had not gathered that. 'Oh...' he murmurs.

'So, I thought I'd give you your present now. I guess. If that's okay?'

Totally thrown, he only blinked and nodded. Taking his hand, you lay his palm out flat and shake the pouch until Eddie hears a little clinking, then feels cool metal on the skin.

'It's the big 2-1, y'know. I wanted us to have something special. I couldn't think of anything to buy. But, I - uhhh - I could think of something to make.'

Finally, he moves and inspects your gift closer. Two silver rings, perfectly imperfect. Carefully, he spins them round until he can finally see what the feature of them is. It causes him to gasp and you to resort to nervously stumbling over your words.

'I was taking a silversmithing class at college and I was thinking about your rings and then I thought I could make you one. Then I thought I could make us some. Matching ones. For our birthdays. It's silly. They're not professional or anything. Y'know a little wonky. Just thought it'd be nice...'

Eddie balls his fist up, clutching the precious contents and closes his eyes to swallow up a sniffle. One ring has E for Eddie on, the other identical except for your initial.

'Wonky? Y/N... they're perfect. This is, holy shit, this is the most amazing thing anyone has ever given me...'

The compliment makes your insides fizz.

'Are you sure? I mean, I was gonna tidy them up more but when you were in hospital. When I went back to New York... I brought them back with me. Just incase... y'know...'

Just incase Eddie never made it to his 21st is the unspoken ending to that sentence that you both understand. Eddie takes your hands in his and squeezes. The rings shielded by your conjoined palms.

'Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you... put it on me! Go on! Make me your little hand model m!'

As usual, Eddie's theatrics ease the tension and force you into giggles.

Carefully, you slide the E ring over Eddie's finger. He prompts you to place it on the bare one next to where his Mom's old ring resides. Then, he takes your hand and delicately places your own ring onto the matching finger. To the rest of the people in the airport, it must've looked like the exchanging of vows before to lovers were forced apart. Really, they wouldn't have been entirely incorrect.

‘So what do you think man?’

Eddie breaks his daze to be met with a room of hopeful eyes.

‘Huh?’ He murmurs.

‘The demos!’ The manager Chris encourages, ‘for the album! These are what the guys have put down so far. Love em?’

tag list: @tlclick73 @probablyin-bed @fangirling-4-ever @booksarekindaneat @azydrateanatomy-deactivated2023y @sadbitchfangirl@fluffybunnyu@big-ope-vibes @beam86 @midnightsgetawaycar @stevieharringtonswife

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 19

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

While at first the days and nights that Mulder is away on a case feel lonely, she soon comes to appreciate the time to herself. She reads more, watches the rom-coms that he despises, has one-sided conversations with Priscilla, and gives her vibrator, long since relegated to the back of her bedside drawer, a second lease on life. When Mulder is home he’s more animated and energetic, their sex exciting and passionate. The things she loves best about him magnified, but also some of the worst. There have been a few nights he’s missed dinner without so much as a phone call, and her worry quickly gave way to irritation when he waltzed in the door raving about secret storage facilities hidden in mountains. They create new routines, new boundaries and expectations, and as time wears on, they adjust. He’ll call if he’s going to miss dinner, and she won’t guilt trip him when unexpected cases ruin their plans.

The day before Thanksgiving, he gets a tip from one of his sources about a UFO crash site in Utah and books himself and Monica tickets for that night. Scully questions whether he’s going to miss Thanksgiving dinner at her mother’s and he grimaces, saying he hopes to be back but as usual, can’t make any promises.

The last she hears from him is around 8:00 am on Thanksgiving day when he asks her to send his regrets to her mom. She tries to keep the disappointment out of her voice as she promises to pack up some leftovers for him to have when he gets home. When he hasn’t called by Friday afternoon, she’s a little bit worried. By Friday night, she’s panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, she goes to the Gunmen’s, using her own special knock that spells out “doc” in Morse code.

“Hey, Sis, are you okay?” Missy greets her with a worried frown, now an honorary fourth member of the trio.

“I haven’t heard from Mulder in over twenty four hours,” she answers, breezing past Missy and into the tech room. “I need you to find him for me.”

The Gunmen work their magic while Missy pours her drink after drink. They track his flight into Salt Lake City and then ping his cell phone just outside Provo around 8:00 pm Thursday night. After that, nothing.

“What do you know about the case he was investigating?” Byers asks, perched behind a computer with Missy’s arms draped over his shoulders, her chin resting on his head.

Scully rubs her hands over her face in frustration. “Nothing, other than an alleged UFO crash site. He didn’t give me any other information.”

“What about his partner, Agent Reyes?” Langly asks, “do you have any way to get ahold of her?”

“I’ve tried her cell a hundred times, it’s off,” Scully replies, feeling tears coming up again.

“Does she have a family, someone else you could contact to see if she’s been in touch?” Byers adds.

“She has a partner, Dahlia,” Scully explains, “but I don’t know her last name to look up her number. I’m sure it’s in Monica’s file as her emergency contact, but the whole Hoover Building is shut down for the holiday. I know that her first name is Dahlia, she works at a flower shop in Alexandria, and they live in Palisades. That’s it.”

“Well we can work with that, why don’t you go home and get some rest?” Frohike offers, resting his hand on her shoulder.

She shakes her head, quiet tears slipping down her cheeks. “I don’t want to be alone,” she whispers, her voice small and afraid.

“I’ll come with you, Sis,” Missy says, replacing Frohike behind Scully and wrapping her arms around her sister’s shoulders.

After Missy has gathered her things and kissed Byers goodbye, she drives Scully’s car back to her apartment and plies her with more alcohol. They hold hands as they sleep, Scully’s dreams plagued by visions of Mulder detained, hurt, or worst of all, dead. If she’d had any idea that having the X files reopened would put his life at risk, she never would have entertained the idea.

Please come home, she begs God, the universe, Mulder himself if he’s somewhere listening. Please be okay.

The phone shrieks and she sits up abruptly, her head spinning. Early dawn light is just beginning to seep into the room and she feels like she hasn’t slept at all.

“Mulder?!” she blurts out, a thousand prayers on the tip of her tongue.

“No, it’s Langly, sorry. We got a number for Agent Reyes’ partner.”

Missy is now awake, and scrambles to the hallway to get a pen and paper so Scully can write down Dahlia Vidales’ phone number.

“Thank you Langly, bye,” she says and hangs up without waiting for a response. She dials Dahlia’s number with shaky hands, repeating please please please in her head over and over.

“¿Hola?” says a creaky voice, and Scully glances at the clock to see that it’s only 6:00 am.

“Dahlia?” she asks desperately, her head feeling thick and muddy.

“¿Si, Quién es?”

“This is Dana Scully, have you heard from Monica recently?” Her throat feels thick and dry, her ears ringing in protest of what they might hear.

“Oh, Hi Dana. Yes, I spoke to her last night around ten pm.”

She lets out a shaky breath, feeling a wave of relief.

“Was Mulder with her?” she questions, her jaw quivering.

“Si, she said their cell phones were confiscated and they had stopped at a diner to get something to eat. She called me from a payphone. Is everything okay, Dana?”

She’s shaking, her body suddenly freezing even under her down comforter. The tension she’s been holding for the last two days erupts in a wave of tremors and she starts sobbing.

“Did she say when they’ll be home?” she forces out around her tears.

“They were hoping to get a flight this morning, so sometime today, should be.”

“Thank you, Dahlia. Sorry to wake you,” she says, and hangs up.

Missy holds her as she shakes uncontrollably, her head aching as her racking sobs jostle her dehydrated brain. Missy runs her a hot bath and after some ibuprofen, two big glasses of water, a set of warm clothes and a hot meal, she feels physically much better.

Mentally, she has shifted from worry, fear, and despair to white hot rage. When he walks in that door, she is going to kill him.

———

“Later, Reyes, sorry to hijack your Thanksgiving,” he says with a regretful smile as Monica slides into a cab. He grabs the next one, chucking his duffel bag into the trunk and slumping into the back seat with an exhausted sigh.

It’s been a long few days. They’d located the crash site and even got a little peek at it from behind a utility shed, but soon after they were loaded up in a paddy wagon and interrogated for six hours in a place that was definitely not a police station. When they were finally released, it was without their cell phones, though the suits were kind enough to let them keep their FBI badges.

He needs a shower and a shave, and a good night's sleep. He hopes Scully has gone grocery shopping, and if he's really lucky, there will still be Thanksgiving leftovers. He’d tried calling her from the terminal but she hadn’t answered. At least he has a full day off tomorrow before getting back to the daily grind on Monday.

The cab drops him off outside Scully’s apartment building and he tosses some money over the seat before retrieving his bag. Once inside, he’s fitting his key into the lock when the door swings open and he finds Melissa on the other side.

“Oh, hey Missy,” he says with a touch of surprise.

“I was just leaving,” she replies with an icy stare, and he wonders if something is up with her and Byers.

“Okay, see ya,” he says as she brushes past him and down the hall.

The apartment is dim, a fire crackling in the fireplace the only source of light.

“Scully?” he calls out as Priscilla trots up to him, rubbing her flank against his leg. He picks her up and scratches under her chin, letting her rub her cheek against his two-day stubble.

“I’m here,” Scully says flatly, and he realizes she’s lying on the couch.

He picks up his bag and walks it to the bedroom, dropping it on the floor and discarding his suit jacket on the bed. Returning to the living room, he leans down to kiss her on the cheek and then stands between the fire and the couch, facing her.

“Did you have plans for dinner?” he asks, “I’m starving.”

She scoffs, but he can’t make out her face in the dim light.

“Make your own fucking dinner,” she spits at him, and he physically recoils. Scully very rarely swears, so when she does, it means something.

“Whoa,” he says with a concerned tone, “What’s going on with you?”

“What’s going on with me?” she repeats, moving to sit up. “What’s going on with me? Hmm, let’s see,” she continues, her voice shifting to angry sarcasm. “Perhaps, Mulder, what’s going on with me is that my boyfriend skipped town just in time to miss Thanksgiving dinner with my family and I had to answer questions all night about where he was. Or maybe,” she says as she leans over and snaps on the lamp on the end table, illuminating her face. Her eyes are red and puffy, pronounced bags resting underneath them. “Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t heard from you in over fifty hours, not a single phone call, or email, nothing. Maybe what’s going on with me, Mulder, is that I have barely slept in two days.” She stands, moving towards him, her voice rising in volume and her bottom lip quivering. “Maybe what’s going on with me is that I thought you were fucking dead, and I had to track down Dahlia to learn that not only were you alive and well, but you were also perfectly capable of calling me, but simply chose not to. MAYBE that is what is going on with me, Mulder!”

He stands there shell-shocked as she pushes past him, slamming the bedroom door shut as wails of agony erupt from the other side. Priscilla jumps up on to the coffee table and quirks her head at him with a meow.

“I have no idea,” he says to the cat.

He cautiously opens the bedroom door and finds Scully sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, a wad of tissues in her hand and tears streaking her face. She looks up at him with a wounded expression that he’s never seen before, and would never like to again

“I’m sorry, Scully, I didn’t mean to make you worry,” he says softly, approaching her.

She gives him an incredulous look.

“How the hell would I not worry if I hear nothing from you for two days, Mulder? What was I supposed to think? And why didn’t you call me?”

“They took my phone, Scully,” he offers, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“What about the phone in your hotel room, Mulder? Or a pay phone, or a goddamn stranger’s phone. Your cell phone is not the only device available for you to contact me with.”

He’s starting to feel like he’s being lectured by his mother for staying out past curfew.

“Okay, Jesus, I get it. I’ll try to call next time,” he says with an irritated tone.

“You’ll try?” Scully asks him, the anger taking center stage again.

He shrugs. “Shit happens, Scully. You don’t know what it’s like out in the field. Sometimes you don’t have access to a phone, or you’re running down a lead and just can’t waste the time to make a call.”

The shift in her demeanor tells him that was the wrong thing to say.

“Waste the time?” she asks in a tight whisper. “Calling me so I know you’re okay is a waste of your time?”

“God, no, Scully, that’s not what I meant. You’re twisting my words around. Look, I’m exhausted, I’ve barely gotten any sleep, can we talk about this tomorrow?”

“YOU’VE barely gotten any sleep?!” she screams, then stands and walks towards him. Even with the ten inches he has on her, she looks larger than life, imposing, and scary. “I have been lying awake crying for two days worried about you!” she shouts up at him. “Get the fuck out of my apartment!”

He’s dumbstruck. He can’t remember the last time she referred to it as her apartment instead of theirs.

“Scully, you can’t be serious, all my stuff is he-”

“I said get OUT!” She cuts him off. She picks up his bag and walks it to the front door, tossing it into the hallway.

He walks slowly towards the door, waiting for her to say she doesn’t mean it, that they should get some sleep and talk about this in the morning. She stands beside the open door, her chest heaving and her jaw set, eyes focused on some far-away point but most certainly not on him. He steps into the hallway, opening his mouth to speak, and she slams the door in his face.

He hears the thunk of the deadbolt, and the sound strikes him as similar to the final nail in a coffin.

[aspacepiratesprincess]

To Be One With The AllSpark

Gazing out of the large bay window, Bumblebee beheld Cybertron. It was positively radiant. After a milennia, it glittered once again. Iacon, the place Optimus Prime's upbringing itself glimmered around them as they had begun their rebuilding. War had been all the bots knew for so long; on both sides. Autobot versus Decepticon; at each other's throats for thousands upon thousands of years, and finally, the curtain came to a close. Bumblebee had survived the conflict. With little to spare but the metal on his frame, they began the long journey of repairing what once was.

Bee's time on Earth had been only a blip in the timeline, for him. It was so short, yet so palpable that every time he thought back on them, the memories felt fresh. He'd come and gone. His genesis there had been rocky.

He'd lost his memories, he'd lost his voice, was assaulted by the Decepticon known as Blitzwing, proceeding the human military...and weary from battle, he somehow found himself hiding in the garage of a human girl's some time later, surrounded by primitive technology. He was endeared by her; they became the best of friends in what felt like the short moment he was there. He'd protected her, mused with her, they'd had a new kind of fun together. Alien to him yet right. His cherished human friend. And at the end of it all, when the Decepticon signal tower had been deactivated and Optimus himself came rolling up that big red bridge, he was gone.

Yes, his time there was fleeting. He never saw Charlie again, after what transpired. His duties were elsewhere. He had responsibilities to his cause, prior engagement to his Autobot brethren. But he'd never forget her.

"Here, try this one," said Charlie, hopping onto the step-stool to pop a tape into the slot she'd improvised to him. She closed it, and suddenly, sound was playing, which Bee couldn't help but move to. He bobbed around and took in the alien noise, until she smiled and put another tape in. The Smiths, as she'd called it. Her favorite. Not his, though. He promptly ejected it and almost hit her in the face with the thing. His bad.

The footage was from his perspective, being replayed from his memory cells from over two hundred years ago. Would he still think about her at three hundred?

Charlie was with no doubt dead. She'd certainly passed away in his time after their war on Earth, but he could only hope that she didn't die in their crossfire. The door-wings on his back drooped at the thought, as did the receptors on his head as he observed his memories. While they were ending a war and working to rebuild their home, she had been quietly living out the rest of her mundane life. Human lives were so short. Bumblebee would always lament that.

His thoughts circled back to the brave Sam Witwicky, who had taken Charlie's place in Bumblebee's life twenty years later. Who was regarded highly among the Autobots for his help, and regarded highly by Bee for his character. Frends were to be made in the humans. Even if Earth had spawned their own fleshly Decepticons.

He was engrossed rewatching these sweet memories, the outliers being the ones in which Charlie was almost killed because of him, but he focused on the ones that made him happy. Giving the slip on an officer in a high-speed chase, demolishing the car of the person who'd disrespected her. Fun times. There wouldn't be anything like it again.

Behind him, Optimus entered the room, and the old bot stopped for a second, watching Bee as he bittersweetly reminisced.

Charlie, tiny compared to Bee, hugged him for the last time. She rested her chin on his shoulder. His spark fell as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, careful to not squeeze.

Naturally, Bee had thought that their journey would continue together, because that was how it should have been, right? They were partners, now. They'd been through a lot in their short time together. What role she would come to play in their quest for the AllSpark if she had gone with him, he didn't even know. But parting from her there was akin to when he watched his homeworld become but a speck in the galaxy from his escape pod on his lonely mission. He would miss her.

"Thank you—for—giving me—my voice," chattered his radio, stitching together whatever he could scan. She shed a tear, and knowing that it was time to go, he transformed. Into a handsome yellow Camaro, which Charlie was shocked to find out. He laughed to himself when she asked in disbelief if he could have been a Camaro that whole time. Down on the bridge, he saw Optimus come into view, the bulky red and blue semi truck. That was his signal that it was farewell. His mirrors shifted to put Charlie in sight, and he pulled out over the hill, leaving her in his rearview.

Bee didn't even have the tech she had retrofitted to him then. A lot of his parts had been damaged and replaced, though his voice module not yet repaired...he didn't have anything of their friendship left but these recordings. Shaking his head, Bee shut off the footage and turned to the bot in the doorway, who he'd known had been there. Charlie was definitely gone, Bee thought. That prompted a question he hadn't yet thought of. Standing before him was none other than their leader, presumably having come to check one of the many monitors and terminals.

"Optimus," Bee started, looking up to his leader. His optics shifted to meet Optimus' who waited for him to continue. His next question took Optimus by surprise: "Do you know what happens to human beings when they die?"

Optimus stared down at his scout, unsure as to how to answer such a question. He did not know. Did humankind have sparks like they did? Was their "soul" the true equivalent to their spark? Optimus knew the fate of Cybertronians. When their life was extinguished, they would become one with the AllSpark. Perhaps even Primus was somewhere along that way. But he couldn't say with any certainty just what happened to humans when they passed. They had their version of God. Was it all the same being, wrapped in different cloaks? Or were Humans and Cybertronians fundamentally different down to the core?

Optimus stood tall as ever, yet mellowly admitted: "I do not know, Bumblebee."

There was a pause in which Bee thought. The words eventually came to him. "Does that mean there's a chance?" he asked, dubious with a glimmer of hope in his bright optics.

Though stoic, Optimus's expression indicated a questioning of what Bee was saying. "A chance she has joined the AllSpark?" he finished for him. It was almost absurd. But Optimus truly did not know. "Only Primus and The Cube know such things, I'm afraid," he said. Bee visibly deflated, drawing away slightly from him. Optimus had heard his tales of this "Charlie", who had woken Bee from stasis and inadvertently brought their plans back on course. Who knew how long he would have remained powered down in that junkyard if she hadn't? Optimus wasn't sure of the extent to which Bee had gotten attached to her, but now that the fighting was over and Bee had the time to feel sorry over things of the past, it seemed to have come back to bother him.

After all, nobody liked a question gone unanswered.

Optimus put a gentle hand on the scout's shoulder, a gesture that he'd adopted over the years. "But, it is of my personal belief that we Cybertronians and humans are not so unlike. Though we may have different vessels, on the inside, we may the same. I think her...spark has been reintegrated, as we will all be, one day."

The unknown wasn't all appealing to Bee, but Optimus's wisdom went undisputed for the humble scout. Bee could be content with that answer. If they would all end up at the same place in the end, he didn't need to worry. Death was just a part of life, and it was coming for him some day, too. Thousands, maybe millions of years...but his spark would indeed be reabsorbed, in due time.

_________________________________________

I know the Autobots didn't return to Cybertron at the end of Bayformers, but what if we mashed that and Transformers: Prime's story together a bit? Idk I just like the scene of Bee looking out at Cybertron lol. The setting doesn't matter to this blurb, anyway.

The original version of this is still on my page here but I added some stuff and reposted because I felt like it :)

[obsessive-ego]

My knight in shining armor

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Just a little something, reader defends beetlejuice

Just something short and sweet

Nsft I GUESS, mentions of lewd activity

"We got a big problem sugar"

It was never a good thing to see beetlejuice nervous, it was rare to see him in such a state, if he was scared about something, you should be terrified, the man could get out of any jam with the snap of his fingers, so for him to be scared, shit was BAD.

You stare back at the ghoul who reappeared in your living room, back sooner then normal from his daily routine of messing with your neighbors.

You finally scrounge up the nerve to respond.

"What?" Your voice sounded more small then you intented, maybe your fear was misplaced, maybe he was messing with you and it was a prank, your thoughts of this being a fake were quickly thrown away when you saw your undead pal's hair begin to shift white.

"Okay, so, you're a smart cookie and good with that technology thing" he begins, refusing to look at you, his eyes fixed to the entrance of your home.

"So, are ghost hunters real? Has breather tech evolved that far?"

You just stare, absolutely bewildered.

"Beetlejuice, what did you do?" You softly ask as you reach for his trembling hand, you didnt like seeing such a confident boastful ghost in such a worrisome state.

His eyes finally meet yours, you could feel your stomach sink.

"Someone in this building cant take a joke babes, and I saw them, someone called these bastards, I saw em wandering the hall" beetlejuice lunges forward grabbing your shoulders, hair completely white.

As much as you wanted to reassure him such things arent real, and that no technology can hurt him, you didnt have a solid answer.

Before you could open your mouth to say anything to calm him down, the sound of a knocking on your neighbor's door beats you to it, the sound alone was enough to make beetlejuice panic and vanish.

You get up from you spot on the couch, and wander to your front door, locking the dead bolt lock, before you venture into your little apartment to locate your demon.

You peer into each closet, in your bathroom, pulling back the curtains to the tub, when you reach you room you see a rather large lump in your bed, you sigh.

"Beetlejuice?"

No response

"Beetlejuice?"

Still nothing

"Lawrence?"

"Y/n I dont think I can beat them"

You frown, and place a hand on the lump he has become.

"No one is asking you to, if you just lay low for a bit, they'll leave"

Beetlejuice peers out from the covers, his hair a mix of white and green. "Ya think?"

"Probably" you shrug

The ghoul crawls out from the blankets, white colour leaving his hair, back to its dull basic green.

"You're right, they cant touch me, if they cant find me" he cackles

You smile, glad to have your confident demon back.

As you go to leave your room to get back to what you were doing before you were interrupted, beetlejuice grabs your arm and pulls you into him onto the bed.

"Since we're already here~ how bout you come and comfort your scawed mr beebleboose baby~" he purrs, the ghoul had you pinning him down to the mattress, as embarrassing as this was, it was a sign he was back to his old awful self, you decide to humor him, leaning forward and kissing his nose, the ghoul turns bright pink, unprepared and shocked at your bold move.

"Come on beej-"

"Cum on what? Just name it sweet stuff"

You snort out a laugh as you sit up straddling the ghoul, his soft pink hair shifting to more of an electric pink.

"Feeling better?" You ask softly

"With you on my lap doll? You know better then to ask questions you know the answer to~" his hands grasping your hips.

"Good cuz you honestly had me worried-"

Knock knock

You jump at the sound, while beetlejuice groans at the interruption.

Looking back at the demon with the silent request for him to release you, he begrudgingly does so. As you slide off his lap you lets out a soft whine.

You wander over to the front door, confused as to who would be bugging you, normally people call first if they were to visit. You look through the peep whole, to reveal two men, you've never sceen before, both were wearing jumpers with weird looking gadgets attached to them, one was holding a device that was clearing beeping.

You pull back for a second lost in thought, and are quickly pull back with another knock at the door.

Your stomach twisted and turned unsure what to do, you hated confrontation and here was one hell of one right in front of you. As if on cue you feel a harsh pinch on your rear, you let of a rather loud scream, so much for pretending not to be home.

"Such a sweet voice~ how bout we get back to comforting your scawed wittle ghost baby~" beetlejuice coos

"Bee, now is not a great time..." you utter

"Not in the mood anymore? I'll check again in a few minutes~" he nuzzles into your neck

"Beej I need you to hide or something" you push the demon off, he stares at you for a second before taking the hint and vanishing.

You swallow hard and hook up your chain lock before opening the door a bit.

"Can I help you?" You sounded so small, you hated it.

"We hate to disturb you, but your flat has the highest ratings of paranormal activity in the entire building, and we were hired to investigate and terminate a very powerful and dangerous ghost, have you experienced anything weird as of late?"

Man these guys dont mess around.

"Do you mind letting us in-"

"I mind"

"Ma'am please, it is for your own safety and the safety of your neighbors, we have many reports of a vengeful dangerous spirit, and our equipment says it is in your flat"

You scowl

"There are no such thing as ghosts, I have lived here 2 years and have NEVER seen ANYTHING weird, you may not come in, fuck off and get a real job you wanna be ghostbuster losers" you snarl before slamming the door. How sigh, and slide down the door, as an anti social person that was lent exactly easy, you lean against the door for a second before regaining your composure and standing back in your feet. As you raise back up to your feet beetlejuice reappears infront of you, wide eyed and pink.

"Bee?"

The ghoul takles you into a bear hug, slamming you against the door, nuzzling his scratchy beard into your neck, you yhelp out at the unexpected event.

"Beetlejuice-"

"Oh y/n you're my knight in shining armor" he coos in his delightful gravely tone that makes your knees weak.

"Bee-" you start

"Oh babes, take me right here~" he pulls away from your neck as he wiggles his eyebrows and bites his lower lip.

You snort out a laugh before lightly giving him a shove.

"What was it you always said? I'm your breather, and you're my ghost? I cant let anyone take away my ghost, who else is gonna haunt me?" You chuckle, clearly embarrassed by your own words.

Beetlejuice's eyes light up at your cheesey dialog, he knew with you that he was wanted but hearing it straight from you lips was like gold, the ghoul quickly scoops you up as you squeak with surprise, before carrying you off to the bedroom.

"Bee-" you start

"Dont worry doll, let old mr beebleboose take care of his hero, you deserve it~" he purrs.

Bonus

Beetlejuice brags for weeks to everyone and anyone about how you saved his undead life, and how hot that was. He over exaggerates and embellishes the story to an embarrassing degree, and of course when lydia wasnt around, hed tack on an ending of how he repayed the favour.

"I should have let them take you away" you'd groan, obviously not meaning it

"BUT YOU DIDN'T" the demon would respond with too much enthusiasm.

[doubleoh7q]

AGENT 012: Mission Report

This is for a photo prompt from the ever-daring and fabulous agent 004 aka @maplesleep

(1245 Words) Summary: Q becomes trapped in the underground station after an attack sets blocks the entrance at each of the terminal entrances.

Tags: canon-typical violence, death Characters: Q, female OC

Q was on his way home when the first explosion hit. It rattled the underground station and echoed through the tunnels. Dust and plaster shook loose as the daylight filtering in from the stairway suddenly closed off. As good as he was in the field and as calm from his lab, this was no mission and panic started to creep in.

He tapped his earpiece twice. He spun as he spoke, assessing the damage while trying to remember how far ahead of him James had been.

“Has anyone got eyes on 007?”

Static.

“This is the Quartermaster, has anyone got a location for 007?”

Static.

Q’s breath came quicker after that. He moved to the stairway first, he’d only just entered the Vauxhall station. If he’d stopped for a coffee, walked slower, paused for even a moment, he would have been caught in the rubble.

He tried not to think about it.

Instead, he took a deep breath and pulled out his phone. He was hitting dial and pulling it up to his ear before he realised the dull tone was singing from his phone and everyone else’s.

No signal.

For the first time in his career, Q didn’t have a single piece of working tech on him. For all intents and purposes, he could have been a civilian and it wouldn’t have made a difference. All he had was his own two hands and a station full of rush hour traffic.

He looked for exits first. A few doors marked staff exit only looked hopeful but without a key and no maintenance staff around, they did little but taunt him. James might have shot the lock through, kicked the door down, but all Q could do was rattle the handle and move on to the next one.

Twenty minutes later there was no exits left to try save the tunnels themselves. The trains had been shut down, the ticketing officer confirmed that in the event of an emergency they stayed put, tunnel collapses and crashes threatened more lives than single explosions.

Q fastened the straps on his satchel before heading to the edge of the platform. And as he jumped the second explosion collapsed the tunnel in front of him. The blast throwing him backwards, the coupling of the train tearing through his side as he lost consciousness.

By the time he woke up, a woman was on the tracks with him. She was likewise covered in dust and coughing through her silver scarf as she pressed down on his side.

Q lifted his head to see her clearly and found that even that tiny movement felt like a wildfire spreading through his body.

“Go slow. Can you talk?” He blinked at her. Taking a moment to process that she needed a response. Out loud.

“Yeah, yeah. How bad is it?”

She lifted her hand slightly to get a look at the wound, before pressing back down harder.

“Bad.” She looked back at the second explosion site. “Look, we have to get you off these tracks, closer to where we think they’ll be breaking through. I just don’t know if you can move.”

“I can’t stay here?” He was past trying to leave but moving now seemed… unnecessary.

“The tunnel is still collapsing.” She coughed as she and Q took a moment to try and focus on the scene over her shoulder. Tiles and bricks were hitting the tracks with a sharp thud, and for a brief moment he thought if he’d been a moment faster, if he hadn’t hesitated before jumping, he’d have been under the rubble behind her. For the second time that day he counted his luck before returning to the task at hand.

He needed to move.

There were other people waiting to pull them up from the tracks, but no one else willing to risk jumping down to meet them so he would have to close that first gap himself.

The wound was the first problem, but field medic training and years of being Bond’s handler had taught him that anything can be both a potential weapon and a potential tool. He pulled his penknife from his satchel and set about cutting the strap away from the main bag. He was compartmentalising now. The pain needed to be out of focus and the woman needed reassuring that the best thing she could do right now was hold pressure while he fashioned a makeshift bandage from his spare cardigan and his bag strap.

With both in place and the women able to let go without the pressure letting up, he could move.

“Are you sure you can- “

“What damage is there is already done, I can move so my spine is fine.”

Visibly, the woman flinched and then seemed to accept whatever fate had decided. The damage had already been done. There was nothing to do.

Q, mistaking her silence for relief, relaxed and was glad for having said it. People often panicked about spinal injuries first, television and horror stories teaching them that paralysis could be a fate worse than death.

Q could assure them, there are worse things that could happen.

She helped pull him up, pausing to cough again, and he leaned on her as they dragged him over to the waiting crowd. He lost consciousness again as they hauled him onto the platform, a man’s knee digging into his abdomen and the pain overwhelming him once again.

When help finally came, it wasn’t from the main stairway. Clearing the debris from the maintenance tunnel had proved quicker than the simultaneous efforts to reopen the commuter entrances.

It was a sight to see. Dozens of people who had been on their way home or off to their nightlife caught mid-journey and huddled away from the worst of the shockwave’s damage.

The woman that had pulled Q away from the collapse had kept him close, refusing to believe anyone else would be capable of seeing him through. Her scarf was almost black by the time she’d made it to the stairwell and by then she’d pulled him up to lean against her as they waited. Keeping his chest siting over her knee so the gravity itself would help with the pressure.

She let the paramedics haul him away from her. Watching as they strapped him into a stretcher and as he was whisked away the sight of him going left her vision blurry.

“Ma’am, are you injured?”

She looked at medic. Staring.

“Ma’am, are you hurt?”

She coughed again and the paramedic realised with the slow kind of horror you get when you think everything’s fine, that the woman’s scarf was covered in blood. She kept coughing.

By the time they’d gotten her to the ambulance it was too late. The damage had been done well before she’d jumped down onto the tracks. She’d been on the stairs during the first explosion, part of the signage piercing through her chest. She’d been fine for the first half hour before she’d seen the man jumping onto the tracks and gone after him, tearing her lung slightly in the process. She could breathe, she could talk. She might’ve been fine if they’d been treated then and there. But she knew it would be hours before the first responders broke through and by that time, she’d already made hear peace.

If she could only save one life today, and it couldn’t be her own. She would. No matter the price.