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archadianskies · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 27

Extreme Weather + Power Outage

Whumptober Masterlist | 27/31 of RK900 short stories ↳ on Ao3

Tags: Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings × Post-Pacifist Best Ending × Good Parent Hank Anderson × Exhaustion x Sleep Deprivation x Power Outage

The RK units are specifically designed with powerful battery cores enabling them to function for longer periods between recharging. If expenditure is kept at a minimum, they can remain online for up to a fortnight without recharging, though given their line of duty they tend to rest for short bursts in order to supplement their cores.

That is not the case for them currently, not when Detroit’s caught up in a storm that’s knocked out several power grids and they’re at a crime scene with a felled tree crushing an ambulance.

“Power’s completely out for this grid!” Hank raises his voice to try and be heard over the crashing rain.

“This patient will die without proper medical care!” The medroid shouts in reply and Ronan assesses their dwindling options. Three dead, five injured- one in critical condition. Ambulance damaged, power grid down and no way to power the medvan and keep the injured android alive. Unlike humans, an android runs on electrical impulses of an inorganic nature and cannot be kept alive with medications.

“We have two manual cars here.” Connor says slowly, and he looks to Ronan who already knows what they must do. “Transfer the patient to Detective Reed’s car-”

“What?!”

“We will force a power surge into the victim and give their core a jumpstart to ensure it can remain active long enough for you to get them to Jericho.” Ronan continues with a nod. “Connor and I are RK units, we can do this safely and still retain enough power to last us until we reach Central Station.”

“Power’s still online there.” Connor reassures. “We can use the charging bays. This way the patient can survive until they receive medical help at Jericho. The others have sustained only superficial injuries which are low priority and can wait until power returns and a secondary medvan can be dispatched.”

Hank looks them over, and Ronan knows their father isn’t too keen on the idea but the idea is sound; the idea is the only option they have if they want their key witness to survive.

“We’ll be alright, dad.” Connor says, softer this time as he squeezes his arm. “Just incredibly sleepy, actually.”

“Please do it now.” The medroid grips his wrist. “We’re losing the last of the van’s power rapidly and without a strong electric current he’ll die.”

Ronan tips his head slightly, and Connor follows him to the medvan. The android is in poor shape, multiple gunshot wounds littering his torso. A long thick cable snakes from his power core to the medvan’s life support, and the medroid hurries to detach the heavy black box from the side.

“I’ll power the core, you power the generator.” Ronan instructs, and Connor nods in understanding. They have to undress partly to grant the medroid access to their chestplate, and connect them to both the android and the generator.

“Ready?” They prompt, and the two brothers nod. The effect is almost immediate, the drain a sudden, strong pull that leaves them feeling fatigued.

WARNING

>LOW POWER

>>Power core: 8%

RECHARGE IMMEDIATELY

Ronan blinks away the notification, reaching out to steady Connor as his brother sways on his feet.

“No complex processes until you’re both at least at 25%.” The medroid instructs sternly. “Consume extra thirium, and run a full diagnostic cycle once you’re at full power.”

“Understood.” Ronan nods, and even that seems like a gargantuan effort.

“That thing better not bleed all over my backseat.” Gavin grumbles as he hands over the keys and they load up the injured android in his car.

“That person is our key witness, so their well-being is worth more than your car’s upholstery.” Ronan snaps. “Thirium will evaporate without leaving a stain on this type of synthetic textile. I cannot say the same for your blood.”

Hank snorts back a laugh, clapping him on the shoulder as Gavin sputters indignantly. “Alright into the car everyone, I’ll drive us back to Central.”

“We will return your car once it is safe to do so, Detective Reed.” The medroid vows. “We will take every care to sanitise the interior.”

“Then it will be much cleaner than it’s ever been under his care.” Ronan drawls, unable to stop himself. Hank guffaws, hand on his belly.

“Oh shit you’re cranky, I love it.” He snorts back a laugh and makes a shooing gesture. “Alright everyone in- boys at the back, Reed at the front before Ronan can kill you.”

*~*

Central Station looms ahead, lit only by the recessed ground lights embedded in the steps leading up to the entrance.

“Ah shit.” Hank curses as he pulls up to park.

“Grid’s out here too.” Gavin groans. “And the storm’s picking up.”

“We won’t be able to recharge here.” Connor huffs, leaning heavily on Ronan.

“I mean, Eli’s supervillain lair runs on its own solar grid.” Gavin shrugs. “Could just keep going. Barbie bot won’t mind sharing, I’m sure.”

“Road conditions are not ideal. There is a large margin for human error.” Connor points out, and Ronan notes the way Hank’s hands grip the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles blanche. “Rain radar shows an exponential increase in volume of rainfall over the next five hours, and winds set to rise.”

“Well,” Gavin falters with a frown, “the self-driving taxis should be fine, right?”

“I’m not risking them either way.” Hank declares gruffly. “Safer if we stay inside the precinct and just wait it out.”

“They can’t charge in there!” Gavin protests and Hank shouts in return.

“It doesn’t matter! At least they’ll stay alive!” There’s a beat where no one says anything, and the only sound is the thunderous crash of rain atop the car and Ronan knows Hank is both correct, and speaking from trauma.

“We will stay inside.” Ronan says calmly to break the tension. “There is ample food and water for the both of you, and thirium for the both of us. It is warm and dry, and weathertight.”

“At this hour there shouldn’t be too many staff left anyway.” Connor adds. “And the both of you keep spare clothes in your lockers.”

“Alright alright let’s go.” Gavin groans, bracing himself for the inevitable drenching. Though it’s only a short distance from the parking lot to the entrance, it’s enough for their clothes to become thoroughly soaked. They reach the doors and the doors stay shut. Of course. No power. The lone ST300 at reception spots them and gestures to her left, pointing at the side door. They trudge over and Hank pushes at the handle. Some things are best kept low tech, it seems.

“Good evening, Lieutenant Anderson, Detectives Reed and Andersons.” Stephanie greets, smile apologetic. “Though I surmise there’s little to make it ‘good’.”

“How long’s the power been out here for?” Hank sighs tiredly, slicking his hair out of his eyes.

“Twelve minutes ago.” She informs them, and Connor whines in disappointment, lips pressed tightly together and curled downward.

“Who’s still here?” Gavin strips off his jacket, cursing colourfully at the state of his clothes.

“Officers Chen and Lewis, and assistive units Polly, Justin and Gareth.”

“Thanks Steph.” Hank nods in gratitude before leading them all through the gates. They head immediately to their lockers after giving the others a wave.

“This is less than ideal.” Connor sighs morosely, coordination clumsy as he strips out of his wet clothing.

“Power level?” Ronan prompts, hand hovering in case Connor sways again.

“7.1%. Yours?”

“7.9%.” He pulls a clean, dry sweater over his head before taking a moment to steady himself. Removing wet slacks proves a challenge in his addled state, but he manages it eventually and tugs on a pair of jeans. Connor leans heavily on his now closed locker, the petulant pout still there on his lips.

“I feel awful.”

“They put us through worse.” Ronan reminds him lightly. “Part of our testing phase was to complete an objective with 5% power.”

“They wiped my testing phase.” A brief look of concern crosses his face. “You remember yours?”

“Every single moment.” His brother saddens at the revelation, and he reaches over to squeeze his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.” Ronan reminds him, and Connor nods.

“I know. I’m still sorry, though.” He seeks his hand, and Ronan clasps it securely with his own.

“You boys alright?” Hank wanders over, dressed in DPD sweats.

“Tired.” Connor blinks slowly at him, and Hank huffs a laugh, reaching over to tousle his damp hair.

“Yeah you sure look it. C’mon, we’ll go mope at our desks.”

Officer Tina Chen sits herself on the edge of Gavin’s desk, expression pitying.

“Stuck here til the storm blows over, huh?”

“Fuck I want to pass out on my bed so bad, I’m fucking exhausted.” Gavin groans, slumping in his chair. “Why’re you guys still here?”

“We sent them back to log the evidence and compile the findings.” Ronan reminds him, rolling his eyes in irritation. “Or can you not remember what transpired sixty-five minutes ago?”

“Why bother? That’s what you’re here for, right? Walking computer.” Gavin gestures vaguely in his direction and Ronan decides acting on his irritation will expand battery power the human does not deserve. “God, the coffee machine’s off too isn’t it? I’d kill for one right now.”

“There’s still some left in the pot but it’s lukewarm if you don’t mind that.” Robert pipes up from his desk across the room. “Enough for both you and the Lieutenant.”

“Hey tinc-”

“Finish that sentence and I will pour the coffee for my father and the rest goes down the sink.” Ronan hisses and Hank slaps the table with a laugh.

“Fuckin’ hell Ronan, I am lovin’ this.” He gets to his feet. “Don’t worry I’ll get the coffees. Just promise you won’t kill Reed while I’m gone.”

“I’ll refrain until you return so you may witness it yourself.” Ronan vows and Hank guffaws loudly as he heads to the breakroom. Gavin shoots him a withering glare, which he ignores entirely in favour of assessing his brother. Connor has his arms folded on his desk, head resting on his forearms. His LED winks a soft red, dimming them glowing periodically like a slow warning he is on low power.

“You doin’ okay, Connor?” Tina asks worriedly.

“They got used like car batteries to jumpstart the key witness.” Gavin stifles a yawn. “Came back here to recharge since it was closer than Jericho or home but…” He trails off with a shrug and Tina looks at Connor sympathetically. She turns her gaze to him.

“Bad time to ask a favour huh?” Her smile is sheepish. “Rob and I found some sort of substance residue on one of the trafficked biocomponents we were logging into evidence. We’d hoped one of you boys could analyse it for us, but it’ll just have to wait.”

“No.” Ronan sighs. “Give it to me. I’ll do it. The sooner this case is put behind us the better- if this can provide solid evidence linking the trafficking to the suspect then it will be worth it.”

She disappears briefly to fetch the biocomponent from the evidence room, and Hank returns in the meantime, placing a cup of coffee on Gavin’s desk before returning to his.

“Hey kiddo, you’re not lookin’ too good.” His tone is soft with parental concern as he leans over to smooth Connor’s hair back.

“I don’t like this.” Connor declares with a frown. “It’s irritating and I can’t access the network properly and Jericho is running on a closed circuit at the moment to minimise stress on their generators.” A pause, brows creasing. “And Sumo is home all alone.”

“S’alright, I managed to text Lucy and she went over to make sure he was let out and gave him his dinner.” Hank chuckles, shaking his head. “Don’t worry. We’ll just wait it out and head home and you boys can charge in your beds. Power’s still on over there.”

“For now.” Gavin adds, shrugging when Hank shoots him a glare. “It’s the apocalypse out there versus Detroit’s shitty overworked, aging power stations.”

“Ronan?” Tina reappears at his side holding out the bagged biocomponent; a thirium pump regulator. She is correct, there is a smudge of some sort of congealed substance on the tip of the component where it would usually click into the main arterial port in an android.

“Power level?” Connor asks, voice muffled in his arms.

“7.4%.”

“Sass is wearing you out.” Gavin sneers. “I think you need a nap.” Ignoring him, Ronan carefully opens the bag and retrieves the biocomponent. It’s a midline model, used in domestics produced within the last two years. Bringing the port end to his mouth, he presses the tip of his tongue to the congealed substance.

Analysing…

Thirium 310 serial #342 541 238

Hydrocarbon solvent: xylene

Xylene solution: industrial grade xylene, medical grade thirium toluene

Searching database…

Thirium toluene; medical manufacturers within 5km of Detroit city

>R.G. Medical

/Generating warrant for latest purchase of >gallon quantity medical grade thirium toluene

//Request failed; insufficient power

WARNING

Power level: 4.2%

“-nan? Ronan?” He startles back into himself, identifying Hank leaning over him and gently shaking his shoulders. “Shit kid you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Apologies.” He frowns, blinking up at his father. “What happened?”

“You licked the thing and then just blue-screened.” Gavin makes a face. “Mood ring went bright red and then you just slumped in your chair.”

“The substance is a hybrid solvent.” He replaces the biocomponent back into the bag. “It is comprised of xylene and a medical grade thirium toluene. There is only one manufacturer, R.G. Medical, within a five kilometre radius of the warehouse. I tried generating a warrant to obtain a record of their recent sales larger than a gallon but I do not have enough power.”

“System’s down anyway.” Hank shakes his head. “Don’t sweat it. We know now, and we’ll just get it done when the power’s back.”

“Supervillain lair is still the best bet.” Gavin crosses his arms over his chest. “Recharge and access whatever you need to. He has his own internet line too.”

“The storm’s worsening, we already told you the weather-” Connor begins, but Gavin rolls his eyes.

“Better than being here, at least there’s beds and coffee over there and whatever you lot need.” He downs the dregs remaining in his cup. “We can take a self-driving taxi so there’s no ‘human error’.”

“No one’s leaving here until that storm blows over and the roads aren’t an oil slick!” Hank growls and Gavin groans.

“Oh my god give it a rest old man, we’re safer in one of those than with you or me driving!”

“An automated delivery truck was what crashed into Hank’s car in 2035, what part of ‘no one is leaving here’ do you not understand?” Ronan roars, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling the man off his chair. “You are being asked to do very little, Detective Reed, so surely you can manage staying put?” He shoves Gavin away and his senses blurs with white noise.

CRITICAL POWER FAILURE

>Entering emergency stasis

“Dad-!” Connor’s voice is laced with panic and Hank’s worried face is the last thing he sees before he shuts down.

*~*

Model: RK900

Serial#: 313 248 317 - 87

Bios 7.4 Revision 0483

Loading OS...SAFE MODE

System initiation...

Checking biocomponents...

Initializing biosensors...

Initializing A.I. engine...

Memory status…

Power core: 25%

All systems: SAFE MODE ACTIVATED

READY

When he wakes he recognises the neon blue downlights of the UV charging bay. What was once installed along the back wall where auxiliary units stood in line awaiting orders, after the revolution one of the storage rooms adjacent to Evidence was converted into a proper breakroom for androids with charging bays modeled to look like reclining chairs with UV downlights installed in the ceiling.

He also recognises the weight of another android at his side, and he doesn’t have to look to know it’s Connor. There’s a lighter weight atop them both- a soft blanket tucked up to their chins. Though not an android, Hank is in another charging bay fast asleep, mouth open and snoring lightly.

His HUD tells him it has been four hours since entering emergency stasis but only eighty-nine minutes since the power came back online with Central Precinct bumped to High Priority. Connor stirs at his side, blinking awake briefly and meeting his gaze sleepily; his older brother is seemingly reassured all is well before he closes his eyes and wriggles closer. Charging bays are not made for more than one android to occupy but he’s not about to protest. Not when Connor is a warm, reassuring presence at his side, hand resting on his chest as if to anchor himself to him.

There is still a case to close. Later, though. He will tend to it later.

Ronan goes back to sleep.

#rk900 #connor rk800 #gavin reed #hank anderson #tina chen #detroit: become human #whumptober #annie writes: dbh #shut up gavin #gavreed lives one more day #only because ronan ran out of battery to murder him #a shame

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throwingideasatthewall · 3 years

Text

Clone Wars: Season 2

Episode 1 Holocron Heist

We just had a heist

[One nonsense enough to knock me into nonsensical incoherent rambling...]

Two

Okay...

I’m prepared...

To do. nonsense...

Urgh

Okay..

[Title Screen]

[Woah!]

.... ..

Aight

Okay

A lesson learned, A lesson earned

Oh..

That snapped me out of it,

A lesson earned is a lesson earned

[you don’t need a person to tell you basic common sense you can figure out yourself]

....

Assumed authority is bullshit Don’t need to earn any- [Sorry, Still Recov- er- ing From Last ep- Isode]

Okay...

Any-way

Jedi on a planet . .

Some-how tr ap ped - Surrounded Clones - Right- - Why?

Like - if you needed parts-

Okay-

I’m in

-terested

Any way...

Wait cruisers?

Gun ships? R-escue

Oh wait-

That’s Good

Oh No,

It’s Plo..

Jokes About How He Got His Men Blown Up Just gonna put this over here

Been a while

Also Hey yeah what is he doing here?

Doesn’t he have Jedi things to do?

Get a new fleet?

I mean th- (Don’t Condone Child So- L diers!)

But every time it’s always Obi-Wan and Anakin because all the rest of them are too busy

So What-

Alright - Whelp - I don’t care —-

Whelp — Ex-plo — Is this just going to be an action piece? (Nothing wrong with that; just need a different mindset,)

From the applications of child soldiers - To Shoot-

-Why?

It’s- Nice-

-Droids

Plo-

General-

Ev-

Neat-

Good-

Whelp-

Grab ‘em to the medic And Go!

(Seriously Windu figured this out yesterday.)

Grunts

You’d think the Jedi would give the order?

Seriously, Good miss, Five Min- Got Some One- Killed

“ Asoka,”

First Asoka mention in the first five minutes

[maybe they got her character better.]

-Jungle

You sent- A child

That Logically can’t improvise ... Into a jungle

....

The

Fuck

Skywalker?

Con-tact Her - Dead - She’s very likely dead- - Anyway - Hope Anakin taught her those moves- - That’s a lot of emotion - In the movements; Again;

Monotonous, Stunted, Robo Tot -ic

That’s How Child-

Nope-

Tone’s Off

So, just to go over;

1. Tone ❌ 2. Dia- Log Ue- (?)

3. Move -ment ❌

I’m hop-

Extract-

Taught-

Okay-

Teach -ing s

Aight Mary Sue-

I’m sorry but the light is literally coming out!

Whelp-

Okay-

So it’s Ahsoka an adult yet?

Like that can be explained away as acco-untability

Otherwise, she should have a hard time with one Droid!

(No wait didn’t Obi-Wan just call her ‘young one ‘)?

Nope!

Movie, get over there in your shame corner

That- Was painful over- reacting

And Focus-

I Don’t - You couldn’t have forced it more if you tried -

The Force- d cha- nge i -n Perspective Not Apprec -iate D- . . . . Moving on

Whelp ...

Get In -

That’s a direct order- -

“Can’t-”

Nope!

That’s It-

Tone ❌

Dialogue; ❌,?

Move; ❌ Ment

Turn in your bad

writing card,

Movie

❌

(Not a series strike, Just A “Fuck You, Strike

On the Movie And, This Chara -cter

(We just had such a good-

Maybe; it gets better?

Skipped ahead; It doesn’t

Sigh-

*Puts on earmuffs

Meta-phorically

Aight Back To 19:06 (Original time stamp; Play

*Think

Friendly Fire-

Nvm

*Thing Ex-plodes

In- stantly

Whelp-

You called her before a council ??

Child -ren Can’t Think -

Okay

Movie

Children can’t think-

From ag-

“This is-”.

It should be

-But The writers - refuse to write her as child -

The Pro-

“I-

The Pro- Blem As the story seems to be placing the Jedi on a high pedestal

..... Their actions here as reasonable

..... But it’s not ... If Ahsoka was a child it would be a cruel use of power showing how used only to put the younger generation down before they’re old enough to understand it

And how they’ve given Anakin the illusion of power

-Boomer Bait

If she’s an adult; This would be a show of how she’s childified by her peers

As it stands;

The writers refuse to chose

Concerning, due to the fact that

Child-ify Ing An Adult ...... Is Wrong

And adult-ify ing a child is wrong ...

Un equivocally,

Tally Of How Many Times Ahsoka- Is Adult -ify Ied- ;

This is necessary

[Excuse for odd formatting The “Movie”, (Under the picture) Caused Tumblr To heck up my spacing)

Continuing on;

“Time away from the battle- field,”

Good, For A Child Solider - (And would’ve been a good show that any kind -ness from them is performative ...

“Guard duty,”

Tally Of How Many Times Ahsoka- Is Adult -ify Ied- 1

Cite; Child ren Don’t have that much emotion, Nor Pre- fer ence- -

“Longer now,”

Dick —- Kinda

It’s better for children not to be in battle —

So not a complete dick...

But not optimal...

“Sorry”

So he said by people who don’t wanna take accountability for their actions and just stop doing the thing and stop bringing the toxins into the world

Point; If you were sorry you would stop doing it, stop bringing it up, and do better... —- Trying to control the narrative isn’t nice (When the truth is objective)

Only the self may be both .....

Security -

“Knowledge,”

*Bag-age

“Hm,”

. .. .

...

Fisto

...

In-side

St-upid Forbid Den

Know-ledge

(It’s likely about plants Or Weapons)

Also;

Boomer Bait!

(That’s something they offer younger generations to follow their stupid outdated tradition)

It’s always worse...

(Also, this isn’t about Ahsoka trying to steal the Holocon thing is it?

Because her character is already -hateable- enough

And if she has enough initiative to steal the holocon

- She’s an adult

And should be allowed entrance anyway

“Jedi Council,”

So, lady was a Jedi?

Aight,

Keeping an eye on that ... Aight -

Went through one. drug trip

Already

.....

[Okay...

..Got a Drink of water —— Interrupt -ion

Wait I thought he was just a ball of fuck your plot

You’re telling me he actually works for Palpatine?

After threaten ing Palpatine?

This dude - fucking drug trip -

...Ser vices

I honestly thought he was a [fuck your shit] guy

Now he’s a de tec- tive

Noir ....

Movie that’s too many genres .....

You- need to slow down .

Your main Chara- Isn’t Even Esta- Blish -ed Prop er Ly

Nevermind the characterization

Note if it had been established he changes things every so often that would be neat

As it stands

This dude is a fecking roller coaster

Not any thing resembling good

[Giving your aud- ience a drug trip isn’t good writing]

It makes them dizzy!]

So...

Holocron

Like Palpatine is literally doing this just to fuck over Ahsoka?

Also, this is going to result in Ahsoka being unchild -like To take them out too?

I’ll get the - counter ready

[yes I have seen it literally every Mall cop/ security guard movie ever

The fun . seeing how your (Good) chara cters - interact with the scenario - That’s not happening here - If she was a child this would show how Anakin‘s orders react with the environment

If she’s an adult; We’re working through a checklist; About what we know about her;

Likes, dislikes, how they might come up in a situation...

The suspension... coming when they do

With Ahsoka...

What do we know about her?

Honestly?

We know she likes fighting (Already in enabler of toxic behavior -against other living beings)

We know literally nothing else about her

Except...

That she’s perfect...

Re-moving All Tension;

Deal

I’m surprise he just wasn’t like oh yeah sure,”

[Ditches with the money]

... ..

Oh they’re actually talking strategy

Usually it’s just ‘fuck em’ up And that’s all we ever hear

Er-

Whelp- Yodi’s dead

Alas, Poor Narc

[assuming he can actually sense disorder in the ranks]

Gen. Leader Ship. Tox

He should know he shouldn’t be doing that

Focusing on him self

And practic ing accountability .... Constantly micromanaging and checking in on your peers .. Isn’t going to make them more likely to be accountable..

It’s going to piss them off ...

Your (evident) distrust creating a toxic environment As you were refused to trust their char -acter

You can’t give me respect the guy that was just snooping (Through the whole uni-verse)

That’s the point...

A dis-turbance in the force

Yeah?

Intruders there will be

Okay, bullshit he can see that

Like; Peri-pheral Okay

(Still tox that you don’t expect your peers in a peripheral. to be able to hold accountability)

But this is galaxies away (Ac-tually. on Corousant)

But. He Should n’t Know That-

‘The Narcs pulling authority again, master,”

“Shh, this is what we train- I mean groom - you for!,”

“But You Said,”

(Con-tinuing Earl-ier,)

[Seriously I meant to bring it up earlier,

But are they really inhabiting Zero the hutt’s old hotel]

Like it could just be a Noir hotel

But the positioning and location seem familiar . . .

Tell me...

Who the frick is this? ?

“What you are doing back there?”

... ..

Aight...

Assis -tance

God Lord, He’s Try -ing

Main tenance

If I don’t idea (who this guy was )or what was going on then maybe that would make sense

As it stands, Nope,

Crash- es

What’s that?

....

What?

Seriously. all he did was put another thing into another thing?

???

...

Aww, he actually trusts Bane..

Thank you ...

Door..

Techno Service ... Droid

As in a “tech -nical service droid? (Rt (IT) Tech Guy?

Or a technical assistant (One made of tech)?

(Or one specializing in techno dance moves?)

Also is he supposed to get them in?

Is that thing?

They- didn’t really establish much-

Butler Droid...

Change?

Todo... “You are what I say you are,”

Roomba- kicker

Also, having a roommate is just straight up detective fiction...

Like buddy-cop detective but still detective

With noir, Which is supposed to be focused on independence Dis(trust) in society Which is admittedly (toxic)

Or seems to be

Those two themes...

Directly contra- dictory

[with Griev- ous they made it work, But he wasn’t this - ]

“Uh,”

You are not “The Doctor,” - [that work ed as manif- estation Of Greiv- Ous’s Toxic Be- Hav -ior- And Human Want For Com- Pan Ion- Ship - Or At Least- Vul- Ner- Aba- ili Ty- - This Guy - So far he’s a n(e)igh invulnerable Douche Bag - With No -thing Humane- - Not quite Ahsoka levels - Intend -ed To be an adult - Just- - Really needing to go ham - On the arrogance And inhumanity (He sold his soul for money- But makes it look so good- what he does- Gets a sick kinda enjoyment from it,”)

That’s how you have, to pull it off

As it stands; there’s no emotion with this character

Is the robot supposed to be like his morality pet?

But he’s a dick to him too

Really he gets nothing from me

How do even in the “I-don’t-feel-anything-I’m-so-edgy-and-cool look at me!’

Vibes

There’s nothing fun...

Yeah you can throw all the ...clichés you want in there

[But that doesn’t work if you don’t use them properly]

[I see the team up with a female bounty -hunter]

[Predictable “I work Alone...] The only thing those stories share

In minute]

But ‘once the effect of’ ‘wow that’s a lot of things. Has worn off

The story and character left heartless

“Non-of- your Bus- iness,”

Doesn’t have the cockiness to make it work

[this isn’t power- Ful-]

Down right ..cringe

As it tries to shove shove two genres.. . At least... That don’t Quite .work ...

Least not the way they’re trying to make them work

.....

..Today

It’s noir

The point is no one’s in a good mood.. ...

Aight,

Wasn’t that-

Also, shouldn’t he know-

Based on how open- She is- To un- veiling her mask..

- -

Robot

So sh- ouldn’t she ask the robot to leave the room?

(If it’s such a big deal to her?”)

He can just run their face through a face scan no?

Mid-rim

I thought he didn’t have a way in? [That’s a pretty pathetic way in.. .]

[Palpatine’s screwing with him]

[Giv -ing Him a hard time and satis -iating - The ab- omin- ations desire for blood🎵,

Two birds, one stone,

Also, Movie, That’s the wrong amount of planning for the wrong genre - We don’t care how the bank ro -bbers Art -thieves

Got There

This isn’t Heist - [Money Heist, Not Terr- Esc] Got It Wrong [Pre dict- The Plot-] Last Time. -

The Focus isn’t Character building- - it’s the ‘out of depth characters reaction to the scenario,’

And the wacky hijinks that ensue

Using their talents...

Contrast- ed against the environment (Mall cop example]

Which seems to be the best fit

Stealing the- Holocron- - WHAT WAS THE PURPOSE-

Well- At least they ack -now-ledged Planning really isn’t part of the subset,

Good (For them?)

Aight Impossible ...

What are the emotions?

[like they literally. just through in the “the only place...”

Why..?

So quick rehash (Sorry but I can feel the drug trip coming through,)

(Effects- Of Dealing- With (bad) excess character;

(Deserts Metal...)

[Refresh]

He has a map of the Jedi temple Chip (Oh so that’s what that- (Isn’t he still-)

[Changlin’]

Aight

Bog

[Refresh End]

[Voice acting?

[Mouth sync]

... .. Aight

In Tru-

Maybe take the teen- off guard duty

A thought

[but-seriously

No high Alert?

Only these two..?

Info- -Mation

Baggage

Seriously money would be a better option

Or just street cred

(Adult) humans, Aren’t that Liniar...

Any way...

East Tower ....

Well that’s better than some dusty old books - Holos

(Seriously at least that’s present baggage.)

Whelp

Nobody notices this bullshit!

On a supposedly secure a military base .... ...

Also in the Mid- day break fecking daylight! (With the hiest it made sense, That was a hostage political situation Meant to draw in a huge crowd;

How?

Cool Alright,

Hey isn’t she supposed to be standing still?

(Guard)

Doing patrols?

Like no emotion, Face Forward, Professiona -lism

Not Greeter

(Didn’t they literally call it guard duty?)

Like just say you’re sending her to library service...

Assis -tance

Again, Wrong Field...

They’d be talking to the library helper (Official) Con-

Bother

Not how a child reacts Tally Of How Many Times Ahsoka- Is Adult -ify Ied- 2/3

Cite; Asoka shows intentional over involvement instincts more befitting of an adult ....

Good

Fully understand able reaction (Kinda)

(Don’t yell at children)

Don’t over involve yourself in the future ....

(But if you’re an over- involv ed and (un-)childlike abomination (Getting shoved for this is likely going to happen)

Dude was actually nicer than an adult

Enabler

(Rule Of Excess Society; While excess verbalization is ex- pected, Getting in someone’s way (non-sport Ing-) (Or con -ferr ed-) U-pon

Is not, Attemp ting to move them away the customary five times is expected)

Aight,

So the librarian was right there as she harassed her client)

(Not saying; But you should get involved in tox that doesn’t involve you)

Just don’t think that would excuse Her from ire

“I can’t do anything right,”

Tally Of How Many Times Ahsoka- Is Adult -ify Ied- 3/4

Cite; Child -ren Aren’t aware of self Ahsoka would repeat a line blank -ly

“Likely ‘sorry’

Then back away

[Or the or dered rea ction-)

Aight

Whelp

Yes

Just at the librarian be the pro tag

(She’s Tox But.. . Less Tox.. ...

But Still..

[Make [Better] Pro-ta g Than Ahsoka ]

In.. ...

That’s a library computer..

You need a pass- word. - The robot-

How?

What?

Weak Point?

You know for Boomer bait They mis-construe How the library works a lot

[I know -Hav- Ing Dealt-]

Talk-ing in the library,

Is pretty off

Like there’s a reason people are encouraged to go into the hallway to take phone calls

Loud

These are the guys that value meditation

Dude. Would be shushed By Several irate Jedi ...

Told to take it outside ... ...

I-

[I feel bad For the Roomba]

[like dude, gaslights him and then takes his memory]

Like, Adults Out of it. ...

But ...Droids

[we don’t know much about the sentient ones Or how much senti ence]

But this whole scene...

Makes me feel dirty

Like; it’s played for humor

When; it should be played to how much a bastard this guy is

Screw- ing with anything-

Like That ...

Toxic ...

Sick..

How?

Aight..

What. .

Re- Cyc

Why? ... ..

Kenobi

Jump-ing coincidence

[i’m con -clusion]

Damn, the narc

[No one tell him anything]

[Might fake a heart attack]

Comm.

[How half assed is Yoda’s peripheral?]

Venti -lation

-That’s Smart-

Almost -Too -Smart-

👍

-Tower

High Alert

Place the Temple -

Wasn’t, already?

Left it undone

Way to go smart guy - Cool - But kinda pointless..

Aight- Never mind

I- Might’ve Been Wrong-

Al right

[Seriously, no one hears this?]

[In most heist movies they at least had the intelli- gence-

[No hate -villains can be stupid]

Do you some small well re-lativel unknown library

[or at least not the one at the place they were robbing]

Because everyone would recognize that the actions occurring match up to what he’s describing And the description Of their building.]

Aight

Neat-

Past

Whelp-

Aight-

Shred- (Un-acc Oun T-able)

K-Pop

Well that’s a name...

Whelp..

Cool.. ..

Bane ...

Whole.. temple

And I heard you very obviously plotting...

So... you’re getting kicked

Also he could be possibly looking up intruders plans.. ...

Like pretty one dimensional opinion of on ‘High Alert’, lady

[Especially for a librarian.]

Thank you

Whelp...

There went my expectations

Also, Every Jedi leaving the library didn’t notice that that shit?

Like, they didn’t have guard’s ready to apprehend him

...On the Other Side?

Okay...

You just moved her...

Do you know this could’ve been an episode with a lot of emotional depth Showing how terrifying adults that abuse children can be adults that swear to have their interest in heart And how overinvolvement Is harmful regardless of who it’s coming from (Neglect- of child- And - accoun tability) Working off the “blank line”, ‘I can’t do anything right,’ And the Jedi -Council’s treatment of her “Foreshadow -Ing,” (I use that word loosely)

Their down- fall

Instead we got this-

And he just abandons the computer-

Aight, Just contin -ued on - with -out his instruction

Despite see-ing how bad that went. Al-right

Okay-

Aight

Really?

Without instructions?

Calls friend

You were fine without him the last few seconds .....

“Give-”

Not gonna question that?

“Voice-”

She’s a changling..

“Now,”

Hidden

You’re in a vent?

Oh, Skywalker has immediate intuition ...

And a breech didn’t somehow sound off alarms

Yeah. . Good..thing you didn’t close up the thing ..

Whelp..

How?

Okay. .

Shame.. they didn’t get a hold of a force sensitive kid (I- don’t want it to happen)

Just-

.. .

.. Here

Hurry I can Hear.. . Bull- Shit .

You have rocket boots they have the force

You shouldn’t hear shit-

Sur-prisingly, No Ahsoka

Good

The lower the counter stays..

The better for humanity

[and my brain]

[Vent]

Seriously, you didn’t tell your partner? About the Jedi on High Alert?

Ser- Force-

How deep is that thing?

[Aight, Pat-

You’re telling me they still haven’t figured out the Holocron?

We only saw-

Shouldn’t one of you go one way and the other go the other?

To cover more ground?

They’re- Really putting a lot of faith-

In the Comms

Also shouldn’t there be more Jedi crawling over the place?

Seriously, it’s just these two?

[We know Plo isn’t doing anything important.]

[We saw him near the opening?]

And Kid Fisto..

Heck... Is everybody else doing?

A-ight

“Closer,”

Shouldn’t it be ..further

Archive.. [Library] Comms?

Got it-

Whelp..

Okay..

Not, putting up that door,

What are you smiling about?

There’s plenty of lasers

And you don’t even know where the thing you’re looking for is

(Inside the compartment)

....

Aight

Might- not have been a smile-

Look for the open vent

(Dude clum- Un- Acc ountable)

With Vents

Also look at all these assholes standing around doing nothing

Also, no one’s going to check up on the child

Like, Ahsoka surely got that message right?

Temple-

Deep in the temple-

Use-less

...

‘Cause you’re idiots who don’t check for open vents Or cover more ground?

Or...

[Get, anyone to help you, in this big ass vent,”

It’s not very hard to see why.. .

Ass -itance

Ahsoka’s, not gonna get blamed for this is she?

Won-

Yeah, the narcs pretty useless

Also, why can’t you have the dude just shut off those lasers like he did the rest?

Done

Oh, they address it

Good,

Yep,

How?

But...

Okay...

...

Okay

....

What’re you still doing ...

Okay,

What’re you doing?

[Is the Holocron seriously right there?]

That’s. lucky

Weirder and Wei-rder

Hey isn’t your personality over-written?

By the chip?

Aight

S-eriously?

Still Here?

On- alert-?

Coin- cidence? !

Augh

Is that’s seriously the alert?

Several minutes-

No wonder those guys were so late...

...

Sense De- Cep Tion

Po- S-ing As A Jedi.

Okay now Yoda’s just reading the death report

Jo-casta

What?

But that’s actually a good idea - If shits about to go down you might as well find the person who might hold them accountable instead of letting you get the shit beat out

Run-

Serious-ly shouldn’t she just shout out her name?

[Like I know - High Alert- But Ahsoka isn’t going to be much use against a Adult... Either way Might as well find her [and scare off the intruder-]

Also how come “innocence” doesn’t get the same notification

Did they forget his wristwatch?

[Like- seems important-]

Who are you?

Dang It?

You were supposed to report back!

Also no one heard any of this before

Also; are you going to tell me that AHSOKA, the child soldier, Is going to beat this guy When the fully trained elderly Jedi got her ass kicked?

Nah.. .

“You,”

Dead

Tally Of How Many Times Ahsoka- Is Adult -ify Ied- 4/5

-Un-orthodox show of initiative 1x

-Counter 1x

- Surviving this 1x

(4x)

Getting her on the run!

Tot; 7/8

-Surviv-ing;

- 1x - 1x

-1x

-1x -1x

-1x

-2x (I’m tired of counting them one by one-)

-2x

- 2x

Okay

Whelp

Aight

-Right

Shape

-Skill

-Ew

Whelp

Okay-

Where did your get your skills from?

Abomination?

Aw-

Todo-

-Yet

What-ever

Butler

Tech

Neither of which have anything to do with ironing doors open ....

.... There he goes

Sy-mpathesize- more with him than this douche bag even if his turn does make a little sense

Aight.

Whelp

Finally found that vent.. .

Right

No, he wasn’t

“Comms,”

Not Holo- Cron

.....

Completely un-realistically

Tally Of How Many Times Ahsoka- Is Adult -ify Ied- 28/29 And 1/2

(1/2 because referring to the action what respectively doesn’t count as a whole- sin- It does deserve note that you decided to repeat your bad writing-)

Jedi

She Says-

(Un Be Li Ev Able)

Holo -cron

Jedi To Open It ..

Okay,

Up- To-

Again, with the communication center-!

Dude, just wanted a Holo-cron

(Seriously that was very tortured logic, Think the writers; just wrote this scene Then realize but wait “why are they in the Holocron/ Comm Cent,?”

And that’s how Anakin/Obi-Wan Obsession with the com center began...

[sorry but there was no reason for them to be in the Com center!

That I’ve heard!]

Aight, What? What -ever

... ..

Wrong-

Yes

Com- Center-

Ser-iously even he doesn’t know what’s up

You heard me

And my stupid plan

To send you to the Coms center to justify Obi-wan’s obsession-

Craw- ling

And we have no reason to-o

Why?

Now!

Yelling- doesn’t mistake the clear lack of reason

What- ever-

Right

That’s one way to do it

Really

Also, how does -that not-

That was less than one minute

Also, but no one else will hear that but these two . .

And they’ll still progress to the comm center ...

“It came from the com center,!”

How!?

You, guys,

Comms, Archives,

Aight, Nice

Com-munication center-

Ha- ha- ha- (I’m sorry but that has come back around to kinda funny,”

[something Happens across the galaxy]

Obi-won; It was the com’s center

—-

Aight, right,

...

O-kay

...

How??

Where?

Okay ...

Cloak Ing?

What?

[you can’t defy the rules of logic that much (Physics) You need to explain where he went otherwise it’s a loony tune Of sus- pen sion-

Okay?

What??

I thought- the thing-

....

O-kay

right

Take it,

Which ,One

That-

Right

What- Ever-

Aight-

He knews

What- Ever

Don’t call your eggs

Move

Restraint

Whelp

Use-less

Just There

Whelp

Nope-

Okay-

He Try

[Hey guys,]

Off That’s some assumed authority over familiarity..

Aight..

Okay,

They’re really letting him get away with the story

Tries-

What?!

-When-

Bomb-

Both-

[Also Mace Windu is still the only semi-efficient Jedi...

Asshole !

(Can’t make the text bigger enough to display my outrage!)

[they played that off as humor!]

That was a scream of death!

Of Murder!

[if that was a sentient- And my God it seemed damn close! Dude was just murdered

The surprise- “ I didn’t see it coming, h onestly not his fault kind!”

One that would call for immediate robotic vengeance!

* im-mediate ac-countability

If sentient,

What the Hell?!

That-

Horror - fy- Ing-

Oof

“Was it sentient? Crud, I might lose my least toxic credentials

( )

Whelp

How?

No Way-

A-ight

Shit

-shit

- she did nothing

I-

Call Sec-

Whose that?

Whelp

Okay..

That Who

Dys- functional family road trip - War

No shit

Oh wait at the comment table was by all the other Jedi

So...

the whole time Obi-wan was just complaining he didn’t want to do the job

Skywalker agreeing with him...

And... wanting to ditch their post

In chara,

Just, a little bit funny when you think about it

Right,

You bought them all the way here?

...

Also look isn’t the unchild-like abomination adorable when she’s talking about punishing people more severely

Holo-cron

The heck is a holocron...

Wait-

What-

Why-

How-

Why is this being allowed to happen? -

...

Snitch

[like seriously how is it helping her case, whatsoever?

Plea Bar-gin

Aight,

Okay

That was just a completely random target on his list...

- -

The one accountable adult

Keeper Kydra Crystal-

- Holocrons

Data

You get out of here youngling

Force Sensitive Child ?

Are we really going to get into the powers eugenics? (Or power genetic superiority)

Also would it be a kin to basically every child or just any child destined for leader ship

(Like gen leader ship?)

Cause..

Also, yeah good idea keeping that around

And you named...

...

Young’lings

Future

Oy! You put that back where, it came from so help me

Future

vision

is cheating

In reality, if you did have that power, you should keep your mouth shut

And it completely negates the point of a choice based universe

(Takes all the risk out of it)

Making the story completely useless

(For the sake of tension I’m going to ignore that..)

Going on the assumption...

That’s the Jedi are just a bunch of narcs

Who like claiming they know the future

When in reality only the future knows the future...

Worn. Them

Oh so it’s just School roll call...

Contact

You must

Ya no dude’s already a headstart...

Ahsoka

Dude, he just override the punishment

Does he have the authority to do that?

[I don’t think so]

Cad bane

He probably isn’t

And you already know him From the previous episode

Good for Obi-won

Aight

Mace Windu don’t give a fuck

Kid Fisto disappeared

And. . Luminara(?)

Went to go get a snack.... ?

I don’t know

Yoda

Got Overruled

Aight, Okay

.....

This episode...

Makes me feel disgusting Watching The middle At least

It’s very clearly boomer bait...

The beginning...

Focus-ing on the importance of taking orders (With no sarcasm to my understanding,)

Progressing, Into,

Dah, de, dah, Generation ____ doesn’t understand books!

*We might if they got out of our way, let us do our thing, dis-covered and pract-iced excess, on our volition

*if we wanted to

Honestly convinced. I should’ve given them a strike right there

Out of

Malicious

Won’t (Out of restraint)

But a thought none- the-

less

Being a (toxic) Boomers Fantasy in which they, the all powerful all knowing adults must help poor Ig- nor -ant (Child)-

(I’m sorry this really disgusts me)

-with enough initiative To praise their Brilliance

(It’s re-ally di-sgusting)

This isn’t seen as an overreach Or con- Des-cion Of A Gen

And gives no in-dication it recognizes how creepy what it’s doing is

Apart from the lighting in the council room

*Which I’m now convinced is permanently broken

And continues with the assum-ption of a life-time Over the future

Breaking; the story pretty thoroughly

And announcing the return to mediocrity...

(Border -ing on attempt at lower standards)

(Also they playoff the death of a semi-sentient species For Humor?

He died screaming!

1 note · View note

inkedmyths · 5 years

Text

'Unlikely' is a bit of an understatement at this point

Unlikely Friends you say???

Here comes my favorite boy

And THIS time we have the rest of the LU gang

---

Time rubbed his head tiredly. It was clear the group was starting to get anxious at this point. Which was fair, since they were in completely unfamiliar surroundings. No one so far had recognized where they were. Sky had suggested that perhaps they had stumbled into another new Hyrule, and at this point Time agreed with him.

The group had set up camp under a rocky overhang. Hyrule was getting a fire started while Legend stacked extra logs off to the side. Wind was watching Sky carve what looked like a small bird, and Four and Warriors were clearing out their own respective spaces for the night. Everyone was getting settled in for the evening.

Well, almost everyone. Twilight was pacing around restlessly. His brow was furrowed in thought, and he kept shaking his head slightly.

Time sighed. "You should relax a bit, Pup. You're going to wear a hole in the ground if you keep pacing like that."

Twilight huffed in response. "I'm just on edge. Everyone is. We have no idea what to expect, no idea what could attack, or..." He growled in frustration.

Time considered this. "Would it make you feel better to scout the area?"

"...If that's alright."

"Of course. In fact, it's probably the best course of action. At the very least we'll have a concept of where we are, and a knowledge of the area should we..." his gaze darkened. "Should we get attacked by a certain group of dopplegangers."

Twilight nodded, seeming to relax slightly. "In that case, I'll be back later."

"Stay safe."

Twilight walked off, soon disappearing into the trees. Time turned back to the group. Hyrule looked up from the fire, glancing at where the tall Hylian had gone. "Where's Twi headed?"

"Scouting."

He nodded. "Probably smart. Maybe he'll get an idea of who's place we're in."

Sky's brows furrowed slightly, though he didn't look up from his carving. "Or confirm that is isn't any of ours."

"Do you guys really think there might be another hero?" Wind looked around at the group, Sky and Time in particular. The latter shrugged.

"It's entirely possible. Evidence suggests there are tales of heroes we haven't met yet, and that's ignoring the multitude of possibilities for who may come after us."

"Yeah, but isn't eight Link's already a little ridiculous?" Legend asked, an eyebrow raised.

"The more the merrier," Four said. He chuckled, as though he'd made some sort of inside joke.

"While this is all very interesting, we must move onto a more important topic." Warriors gave them all an emphatic look. "What's for dinner?"

Several groans echoed in response. A debate started up over who's turn it was to cook, while Legend took an inventory of what they had left. Time for the most part only half-listened, keeping an eye on the woods for his protege.

---

Twilight debated over whether or not to shift into wolf form. While it would offer an advantage in terms of detecting people and creatures, he opted for his Hylian form so he could talk to any locals he came across.

If he came across any. As far as he could tell, the surrounding area was completely uncivilized. It was just trees and wildlife.

He once again debated shifting into his other form. The sunlight was fading as evening settled in. With the sun no longer in the sky, the chances of the shadows attacking here much higher.

A cool evening breeze ruffled his hair. Despite the unfamiliarity of the area, he had to admit it was nice. There was a certain tranquility that came with the lack of people, a certain quietness you couldn't get in cities.

A sudden noise made him stiffen. Senses on high alert, he scanned the area carefully. All of his instincts were screaming danger, but he didn't see anything. Unless it was behind him-

An arrow whizzed by his ear. Startled, he whipped out his sword as a wooden club swung down. He squinted at the creature before him, unsure of what it was. His best guess was some variation of a bokoblin, though it was no kind he'd seen before. Looks like they really were in a new Hyrule.

There were two of the creatures, the clubbed one and one with a bow. The latter pulled out another arrow and took aim. Twilight rolled to the side swinging at the one in front of him. It lept over him, screaming wildly. Pivoting, he plunged his blade into its back. He was about to turn and dispatch the other one when it squealed in pain.

When he did turn, he saw it fall to the ground. A Hylian was standing over it, a blade drawn. Twilight was about to thank him when he looked up, and he couldn't hold back a yelp. Red eyes.

"Nice sword," said the shadow. But it wasn't any of the others they'd fought before. This one had long hair, pale as the moon and tied back in a ponytail. A dark cloak hung from his shoulders, over a black tunic with white stitching. Somewhere in the back of his mind Twilight registered that this meant there was another hero, but he was too focused on the new problem in front of him.

Except said problem didn't seem like it wanted a fight. In fact, it was currently acting so nonaggressive that it caught him off guard. Regardless of this, he kept his sword at the ready.

The shadow rolled its eyes and let out what sounded like a long suffering sigh and muttered something under its breath. It then looked back at him, and said in a well rehearsed voice, "I mean you no harm, despite the fact that my mildly unsettling appearance may say otherwise. I just happen to look somewhat terrifying, which does not reflect on my values or intentions."

Twilight was at a complete loss for words, so he only stared open mouthed at the shadow. What did that even mean? Since when did shadows do that?

After a moment of silence, in which Twilight did not let his guard fall for even a moment, the shadow groaned. "Oh for the love of- fine, whatever. I'll let Blondie deal with you." He turned around and cupped his hands around his mouth. "Hey Link! Get your ass over here and help me with this random guy!"

Wait. What.

A moment later, much to Twilight's utter shock, a full-colored version of the shadow came jogging out of the trees. "What's up?" asked the Hero, looking at him curiously.

"Apparently there are people who still find me threatening."

"I mean, you are kind of a creep."

The shadow made a face. "Still, I thought everyone had at least heard..."

The Hero signed something at his shadow that Twilight didn't catch before turning to him. "Hi. I'm Link. I apologize if my brother here startled you; he has that affect on people."

"Wow, rude."

Twilight was pretty sure his brain had short-circuited. Had this Hero really just called his shadow his brother? "You... I... brother?"

"Uh..." Link, the newest Hero, looked uncomfortable. "Yes?"

Hylia help him. He didn't even know what to say. What could he say? Here was a new hero, and his shadow, whom he just called brother. Brother. Was it possible for a shadow to be friendly? None of this was adding up, and the more he thought about it, the more his head hurt. Maybe he should ask Time- oh goddesses Time. If he heard about this-

"Hey," said Link, interrupting his train of thought. "Are you doing okay?"

"No, because I'm going to get myself erased from existence because when my ancestor learns about this he's going to keel over and die." The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

"I- hang on, what?" Now it was the new Hero's turn to be absolutely baffled.

"What exactly have you been eating?" The shadow asked. "Mushrooms?"

"Feral!"

"What? It's a legitimate question! I mean, he doesn't exactly seem right in the head-"

"You're making it worse!"

"I'm just saying! He might need medical attention or something. What if he has a concussion?"

Twilight wasn't fully registering the conversation. He'd slid down to a crouching position, head in his hands. He was, however, registering the fact that there was a conversation. That the hero and his shadow were bickering with one another. Brothers. They certainly were acting like it. How had this even happened?

"Okay seriously dude, are you doing alright?" Twilight looked up, realizing he was being talked to. It was the shadow, (Feral was it?) who had spoken.

He took a shakey breath. "I've been better."

"Are you hurt?" asked Link, looking concerned. "Do you need anything."

Twilight managed a forced chuckle. "Maybe something for the headache I have coming on."

"Did you hit your head?"

"No, I-" he paused. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around this whole situation."

"Does this have anything to do with the dead ancestor thing?"

"Feral!"

"I'm just asking, I me- uh." Feral stopped, looking surprised. "Link, your sword is glowing."

"Wait, what?" Sure enough, he drew his sword - which was in fact the Master Sword, go figure - and it's light lit up the surrounding trees.

"Great, is there a Guardian or something? I thought there weren't any around here."

"There aren't, at least not last I checked."

"So wait, what's the deal-"

"Hold on, shut up!" Link waved a hand at him to be quiet, ears perked as though listening intently. Feral went silent, looking on curiously. Twilight guessed that it meant the sword was speaking.

Link's eyes went wide, and he looked up at Twilight. "Holy shit, really?"

"What? What'd she say?" Feral looked slightly frustrated at not understanding what was going on.

"She said he's-" he pointed at Twilight, "-the Hero of Twilight, a hero from the past." Feral's expression copied that of Link's, and they both looked at him.

Well then. He guessed there were perks to having the actual Master Sword with them. "That's me."

"Oh wow. That's incredible." Link seemed to be in awe.

Feral, on the other hand, looked mildly uncomfortable. "Well, that explains why I freaked you out so much."

"Huh?" Link looked confused. "What do you mean?"

"He's another Hero. He did all the same trials. Think about it."

"Huh?" Link paused, then the realization dawned on him. "Oh. Uhh..."

Feral nodded, then glanced back at Twilight. "To reiterate what I said earlier, I'm not going to stab you."

"Right. Okay." Twilight took a deep breath, then stood up. "Why don't we get proper introductions done? I'm Link, the Hero of Twilight. You can just call me Twilight, for simplicity's sake."

Link blinked, surprised that they shared names. "Okay then? Well, I'm Link, the Hero of the Wild."

"I'm Feral, and as I'm sure you can guess I'm his shadow. We usually just say we're brothers, since it's way simpler than explaining the whole shadow thing. Not that far off from the truth, anyway."

Twilight considered this. "Alright then, Feral and Wild- are you alright if I call you that?" When he nodded, Twilight continued. "I guess you're the new Hero in the group. There's several of us traveling, trying to figure out what brought us together in the first place. Since we ended up here, looks like you're included in this."

Wild and Feral exchanged a glance. "Sounds like fun." Feral said.

"I mean, if something's going wrong I should help. But wait, how am I going to explain you?"

"Just tell them the story. Not much to it."

Twilight pinched the bridge of his nose. "As much as I would really love an explanation for this right now, I need to be getting back. I've been away a while."

"Sweet. Operation meet the gang of heroes?" Feral grinned.

"Sounds like a plan."

"Do you think the sight of me is going to make any of them faint?"

"No, but they might stab you," Wild snickered.

"Not if I dodge it."

"Sure you will."

"Watch me."

Twilight groaned internally. This was going to be a long journey, even just back to camp, if these two were always like this.

#legend of zelda #loz #fanfic #feral #link #dark link #feral and wild #linkeduniverse #myth writes #wild #twilight #time #wind #hyrule #warriors #legend #sky #four

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mksc77 · 5 years

Note

For the Drabble List #2, number 45 please! Thank you 😘

Thanks so much for the ask, @ila9182!

I apologize in advance for the rushed-through beginning--crime content never interests me, and I didn’t want to spend much time on it.

45-- “Please don’t shut me out.”

Sharon sighed in relief when the struggle was over and she could see on the screen that the suspects were just about immobilized...Wait a minute, one of them was missing. After a quick headcount of her team, she quickly realized that one of her own was also missing. “You guys, where’s Detective Sykes?” She asked through her mouthpiece, but they were all focusing on getting the ones they had handcuffed and making petty remarks back and forth. Sharon moved closer to the screen, like that would help anything, but saw no sign of Amy, and she was just now realizing that she hadn’t heard from her in a while and that her audio equipment might not be working properly. Of course she could still see the house where the child they had been too late to save still was, but not someone she still had a chance of protecting. The boy had been the last of several casualties in this case, and Sharon wasn’t trying to add anymore to that list. “Where is Sykes?” She demanded again, to no avail. “You guys, where the fucking hell is Amy?!” Sharon screamed in a highly uncharacteristic outburst, finally getting the attention of her team. They frantically looked around, and Tao spotted her on the ground a good bit behind them. Sharon normally would’ve giggled at hearing Mike mutter “shit the bed” under his breath, but she was overcome with fear when she saw Amy struggling with a rogue suspect. Mike and the others hurried toward her, and Sharon winced as her head was being banged against hard concrete in her struggle to keep him from getting his gun. Sharon had seen her team in peril before, but this was the worst. Watching from the safety of PAB was supposedly a “perk” of being a commanding officer, but sending her team into dangerous situations while she watched helplessly on a screen was one of the most unfavorable parts of her job. “If anyone has a clear shot—“

“I’ve got it, ma’am,” Mike assured her.

Sharon felt herself go limp with relief, and she dropped into a chair as Mike pulled the suspect off of Amy and apprehended his gun while Julio grabbed Amy’s handcuffs and cuffed him.

With the suspects finally in custody, Sharon had to tie up some loose ends before she could leave, so she was the last to arrive at the hospital. By the time she got there, Amy was already in a room, and the rest of the team was sitting around and talking.

“Here come the shoulder squeeze and the pillow-fluffing,” Mike murmured when Sharon came in.

“Hi, everyone,” Sharon greeted warmly, ignoring Mike’s comment. Unfortunately, this wasn’t her first rodeo with having one of her team members in the hospital, and they’d all had their turns as the patient at one point or another. She walked over to Amy and gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. “How are you feeling? Are you comfortable?” Provenza was speaking the words in unison with her, but she’d never let on before that she always heard them when they spoke along with her or quietly announced to each other what she was about to do. This scenario had happened enough times for her words and actions to be predictable by now.

Amy nodded. “They gave me the good stuff...But ribs still hurt a little bit.”

“Ugh, broken ribs are the worst,” Sharon sympathized. “Let me get you a couple of—“

“Pillows.” Julio was standing right behind her when she turned around with pillows in his arms.

Sharon rolled her eyes. “At least one of you is finally helping me out a little bit while making fun of me...Yes, I always hear you,” she said when their smirks turned to looks of panic.

Andy shrugged. “Hey, who needs medical professionals when you’re around to cure us with excessive pillows?”

Sharon ignored him and turned her attention to arranging the pillows behind Amy and adjusting the incline of her bed. “Is Chuck staying with you tonight? They’re just keeping you overnight for observation, right?”

Amy nodded. “He wanted to come now, but I need some things from my apartment. I really just want a shower. And I should be able to go home by noon tomorrow as long as nothing changes.”

“None of us are at our personal best right now,” Sharon agreed. She, herself was still wearing the same clothes from the day before and hadn’t had a shower in almost 48 hours, and the others were in similar shape. It was more obvious for the men, with the evidence of a couple of days without a razor on their faces. The critical missing of a four-year-old boy had given them even more urgency than normal to solve the case, and they’d barely paused to eat in the last couple of days, much less to do anything else. “Can I get you anything?”

“Do you have anything for a bruised ego?” Julio asked, speaking as a typical man and using humor to mask the emotion of the situation. “She’s still pissed that she let that little twerp overtake her. He must’ve blindsided her and had her pinned down before she could react, otherwise she would’ve kicked his ass, no contest.”

“I do not—yeah, you’re right,” Amy admitted. “That probably hurts more than anything.”

“Well, if that’s the biggest problem, I don’t think there’s much to worry about.” Sharon eyed the thermos of water on the table beside Amy’s bed and handed it to her. “Drink some water. Andy said you were a little dehydrated, and you haven’t had any since I got here.”

“You’ve barely been here for five min—okay,” Amy conceded, knowing it would be faster to just obey.

A little while later, Sharon was the last to leave. She sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand over Amy’s. “I’m sorry this happened, Amy.” Six years later, “this just happens sometimes, no matter how well you plan it” still wasn’t acceptable to her. She wanted to know how Amy and the others had gotten separated to the point that no one noticed she was in danger and how to prevent it from happening again. She wanted to know why even her most careful and seemingly-foolproof plans sometimes still sent someone on her team to the hospital. But that would have to wait.

Amy took a sip of water and lay back down. “You don’t need to apologize. It’s just the job. It’s not like I didn’t know from the beginning what I was getting myself into.”

Sharon lightly squeezed her hand. “I’ll let you get some rest, but let me know if I can do anything for you. I can stop by in the morning if you need something.”

Later that night, Andy was asleep before his head hit the pillow. Sharon also should’ve been, as she hadn’t had more than few-minute naps here and there for the last couple of days, but now that she knew Amy was okay, all she could think about was the four-year-old who had been killed on her watch. Andy’s steady breathing and occasional snores beside her were infuriating. She wished she could shake off the last few days and fall asleep as easily as he could, but despite being exhausted, her mind was in overdrive, and her heart ached for the little boy. He’d reminded her so much of Ricky, and the image of him was haunting her. How frightened and confused he must’ve been. Murder always hurt her heart, obviously, but the cases that hit her hard enough to send her to her therapist’s office always involved children. She’d been relieved in her early LAPD days when she’d gotten promoted out of patrol, bringing an end to dealing with child abuse and neglect and pulling children out of crashed cars just for them to die in her arms. She’d liked the change of pace that had come with Major Crimes and the satisfaction of affecting the community more directly than she felt she was doing in FID, but it had also meant that she was once again frequently exposed to the darkest corners of humanity. She’d had enough of it, and she’d never been so happy to be less than a month away from retirement.

Giving up on sleep for the time being, Sharon quietly slipped out of bed and pulled a sweatshirt over her head. After getting a glass of wine for the first time in a few days, she grabbed a blanket from the living room and went outside to sit by the pool. The March night was chilly, and her red wine warmed her from the inside as she stretched out in a lounge chair, draped the soft, lilac-colored blanket over herself, and sipped the soothing liquid. She listened to the sounds of various animals in the nearby woods in the otherwise quiet and still night. She’d definitely missed this after moving to the condo, and it was one of the things she was enjoying the most about being back in a house. The full moon lit up the yard, and its reflection shimmered in the pool water. The calming atmosphere was helping Sharon to finally relax, which she knew would lead to a good, cleansing cry. She’d been too tense for that until now, and it was just what she needed to move on.

Sharon hadn’t been stretched out by the pool for very long before she heard the door from the porch close and saw Andy coming down the steps. “The hell are you doing? It’s after midnight,” he mumbled as he gently nudged her over and squeezed into her chair beside her.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Sharon curled into him, grateful for the extra warmth, but wishing he’d go back inside. Crying was a solo activity, and she could already feel a lump in her throat and her eyes starting to well up.

“Couldn’t sleep? I was sleeping like a log until I heard the alarm beep when you opened the door.” They’d been in the new house for a couple of weeks, now, and they were still adjusting to the new rhythms and sounds, like the brief chirping of the alarm system every time a door opened.

“You were sawing some logs, too,” Sharon muttered.

“Why didn’t you hit me and tell me to shut the hell up? You usually don’t hesitate to do that.”

Sharon shrugged. “That’s not really what was keeping me up.” Tears were pricking at her eyes as she relaxed against Andy, not for the first time that week. She furiously blinked them away, and a quick wipe of her eyes held them off for the time being. Damn it, she’d come out here so she could have a good cry, clear her head, and hopefully finally fall asleep. She’d only cried in front of Andy a couple of times, but those times hadn’t been anything close to the ugly sobbing that was about to ensue. “I’m fine, Andy, I just need a few minutes to myself.”

Andy usually respected her space when she asked for it, and she didn’t request to be left alone that often, but he knew how much the case had bothered her and didn’t like the thought of her sitting out here by herself in the middle of the night. Or of shouldering so much emotion alone. “I’m not going anywhere, Sharon.”

“Andy, please—“

“No, Sharon, you please. Please don’t shut me out.”

Sharon couldn’t stop the tears from flowing this time, and Andy’s arm wrapped firmly around her confirmed that he wasn’t leaving. She was too tired to resist him and melted into his side, no longer trying to keep her tears at bay. Andy stroked her hair with one hand and rubbed her back with the other. He rested his chin on top of her head and wordlessly held her as sobs wracked her body, causing her to shake against him. By the time her sobs were slowing down to sniffling and hiccups, Andy’s pajama top was drenched with her tears. She smoothed her fingers over the wet spot and gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry.”

Andy pressed a slow, soft kiss to her forehead. “It’s all right. I think I’ll manage.”

Sharon shifted against Andy and sipped her wine as he adjusted the blanket over her. She could’ve stayed outside and enjoyed the atmosphere of the back yard all night, but she was finally getting drowsy and starting to feel like she could calm her thoughts enough to fall asleep. She drained her wine glass and started to get up, and Andy offered her a hand and laced his fingers through hers once they were both on their feet. “You think you can get some sleep now?”

Sharon draped the blanket over her arm and lay against his shoulder. “Yeah. Let’s go to bed.”

#major crimes #major crimes fanfiction #shandy #mikuscfanfic #for the love of god please blacklist mikuscfanfic if you don’t like these instead of spamming me with anon hate #❤️❤️❤️ to the rest of you

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one-trigger-lullaby · 6 years

Text

Stomach Flu featuring everyone but Keith because he’s purple and fuzzy sometimes

Thanks so much @glow--squid for this prompt, I hope I did it justice.

If you would like to request something from me for @badthingshappenbingo pm me or send me an ask. Used in ritual/sacrifice has already been prompted.

Sweat was beading on his forehead, dripping down his warm, brown-toned skin until it slid off his chin and fell into the steadily-growing puddle on the rim of his suit collar. He felt cold, he was shivering, but a quick look at his stats said that he was very warm. Almost too warm.

he sat limply in his piloting seat, his head leaned back as he focused on breathing. His eyes were barely open, but he scanned the ceiling of Blue's cockpit in a dazed manner.

There were sounds coming through the speakers in his helmet, but the words were garbled and they sloshed around his water-logged brain incomprehensibly. Vaguely, he realized that he wasn't moving, Blue wasn't moving, they were totally still, but Lance felt everything around him spinning as if they were hurdling through a planet's atmosphere.

His hands lied limply on his thighs where they fell off the controls and, as he stared, he realized the usually soft blue cockpit was a startlingly angry shade of red.

"Red...?" Lance murmured. When had he gotten into Keith's lion? Where was Blue? Wasn't he just flying her?

Then again, they weren't flying now so maybe he had just...fallen asleep? Maybe it was time to go back to sleep.

Lance's eyes fluttered closed, but the sounds ricocheting around his helmet got louder, more persistent.

It sounded important, Lance liked being a part of important stuff. He strained his ears, ignoring the pounding in his head, and listened to the noises, trying to make sense of them.

As he focused, the sounds cleared.

"...ance!"

"...L....ce!"

"Dammit! Ans...ance!" Keith? Lance groaned, wanting to ask why the hell Keith wasn't in Red but unable to articulate what he meant to say.

"Lance?" This time Keith's voice came through clearly, breathless and weary.

"K..." Lance's tongue felt heavy and immobile. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this strange.

"Allura, can you track Lance's location?" Keith said, "I'm turning back around and circling again."

Lance's ears started ringing, he couldn't hear the reply. He felt an awful curling in his stomach before everything--

Disappeared.

Keith pushed through overgrown trees and floating rock like a duck through water, his face set in grim determination. "How much longer, Allura?"

"Just a few doboshes," Allura replied, audibly frazzled.

Keith could feel his nerves sizzling beneath his skin. They'd lost contact with Lance nearly halfway through their mission. One moment, he was piloting Blue next to Green, and in the next, He was nowhere to be seen, dropped completely out of the sky.

For a hot, tense minute, Lance's comm was silent and everyone was awaiting the blue paladin's response. For a long time, that response never came and they feared the worst.

Still entrapped within the battle, they had no other choice than to hope the paladin could hold on until they finished. Keith just hoped they heard something from him before they finished.

The battle won out and there had still been no word from Lance, the loudmouth he was. Keith, Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk all flew around for a bit, trying to catch sight of the ten-meter-tall lion, but had no luck.

"We should head back to the castle," Shiro said, tribulation evident in his tone. "We haven't found anything and we're not doing anyone any favors just spinning our wheels like this."

"One of us should stay," Pidge said vehemently, "Just in case."

"I'll do it," Keith volunteered before Shiro could shut it down. Shiro gave a heavy sigh.

"Keith..." He said, "I really don't think--"

"I'll do it," Keith said once more, more firmly.

"I'll manually activate the tracker on Keith's suit, he'll be extra safe," Pidge said hastily. Keith mentally thanked her.

"Okay," Shiro gave in after a moment of silence. "but don't say on this planet past sundown, you'll freeze to death."

"Got it, tracker on, back before sunset, thanks, Shiro," Keith said, already flipping his lion around to change course.

Keith heard Shiro sigh one more time as he flew off before he gave the order for the rest of the lions to move out.

Keith had been searching for a couple of hours when he heard Lance gasp out a quiet, "Red?"

Keith jolted forward, giving his lion pause as he listened for any other sign of life through the comm. "Lance? Lance! Can you hear me?"

It was silent again and Keith cursed, "Lance!" He pushed forward on the controls to his lion and thrusting the sentient machine forward full-throttle, getting closer to the surface of the planet.

"Lance!" He cried once more as if he would be able to hear him through his lion. There was still no response and Keith slammed his palms on the dashboard, mentally apologizing to Red, "Dammit! Answer me, Lance!" There was a quiet hum and Keith listened closely, "Lance?"

"K..." It was the smallest sound, barely recognizable and heavily drawn out, but Keith had heard it loud and clear.

Tightening his grip on the control as he flipped his lion, he opened up communications with the castle. "Allura, can you track Lance's location? I'm turning back around and circling again."

"I'm on it. Pidge said she activated the manual tracker on Lance's suit, but it wasn't giving off a signal. Look for him in a place full of dense trees or a cave or something of their likeness." Allura responded promptly.

"Okay," Keith said, slowing down to look for such areas.

The planet was full of them, of course. Forests that tickled the bottoms of Red's metal claws, just as tall as they were dense. There weren't many caves from what Keith could see, but the plethora of forests evenly made up for that.

Keith thought that that realization would be that, but, upon closer inspection, the trees he flew over were pristine, no sign of a twelve-ton lion rolling over them in the slightest.

If he wasn't in the thicket of the forest...where was he?

Keith flew around in circles, his eyes flickering back and forth over and over again in search of the blue lion. How the hell did they lose something that blue on a planet that's made up entirely of green?

The planet was completely forest and ocean, there was nowhere else.

His own thought gave him pause. Forest and ocean.

He pulled Red lower with a graceful swoop, dipping down towards one of the large oceans. "Allura, I think Lance is underwater, not above ground."

"Drat," Allura hissed, "keep looking, I'm almost able to find his lion."

"Okay," Keith said, gliding parallel to the water, his scanners searching for any abnormalities in the water he wouldn't be able to see with his eyes.

He fell into a lull of scanning and coming up empty. Such a lull, in fact, that when the scanner made a loud beep, signaling it'd found something, Keith nearly send Red flying.

As he came into his senses, he looked at what the radar scanner had found. "I found him Allura, I'm sending the coordinates now."

"I've received them," Allura said, "wait for Pidge, she's coming to help you retrieve him."

"No, I'm going down in my suit. I'll leave Red so Pidge can find us, but I'm going to go and get Lance. We don't know how much oxygen his lion has left, if any." Keith was already starting to unstrap himself, grabbing the extra tank of oxygen every paladin kept in their lion.

There was silence on Allura's side for a moment before she sighed, "Be careful."

Keith hummed in response, stepping out of his lion with a mini scanner in his hand. With this, he should be able to detect the quintessence that made up Lance's lion.

Without another second to spare, Keith dove into the expansive ocean, immediately swimming in the direction the radar's needle pointed.

Lance had crashed close to the shore, and Keith found his lion easily, Blue giving a pulse of energy at his arrival.

He rested a palm on her large metal nose and she opened her jaws, giving him entry, before swiftly shutting them again before more water could get inside of her.

She'd done well, no water had reached the cockpit.

He found Lance lying limply in his chair, every bit of him slack but otherwise unharmed.

Keith carefully slipped Lance's helmet off to press his fingers to his neck. Shit, he's burning hot.

"Lance? Lance, can you hear me?" Keith patted Lance's cheek roughly, his hand becoming damp with the excess of sweat that was pearling on Lance's hot skin.

Lance was unresponsive, completely unaware of Keith's prodding. Keith rested a hand on his shoulder, then one on his chest before recoiling sharply, nausea bubbling up at the sight of vomit on his hand.

A concussion, Keith surmised with no little amount of horror. A bad one, if the copious amount of vomit and bile on the paladin said anything. Keith should've noticed sooner, but the red lights flashing in the cockpit made it hard to see much of anything.

Internally bemoaning how disgusting it was going to be, Keith quickly wrapped an arm around Lance's waist, throwing the blue paladin's arm around his neck as he carried him out of the cockpit.

He took a second to firmly slip Lance's helmet over his head so he wouldn't suffocate as Keith dragged him through the water.

Once he was back inside his lion, he reconnected with the castle. "Allura, is Pidge already en route?"

"Yes. Is Lance okay?"

Keith grimaced slightly, glancing at the man pillowing his head on his shoulder, putrid smells coming off the both of them. "No, not exactly. I can't wait here for Pidge, Lance needs immediate medical attention. Send someone else to help her lift Blue."

There was silence for a second, before, "Hunk is coming. Coran is getting a pod ready."

Shiro and Allura were anxiously awaiting his arrival when he got to the castle's hangar.

They both gave grimaces at the sight of the mess spread between them. "Does Coran have the pod ready?"

Allura nodded as they started speed-walking towards the med bay, "Yes."

Coran greeted them as they entered, but didn't let them pass. "What are you doing?" Keith hissed, his arms straining with Lance's weight, "He needs a pod!"

Coran had a pensive frown. "The pods aren't equipped to rid ones of bodily illness, my boy."

"He has a concussion."

"Where did he hit his head?" Coran challenged, turning to grab something from one of the stainless steel tables.

Coran let the thing rove over Lance until it beeped, "As I thought, he has no concussion. His head is perfectly fine. His fluid levels are drastically low, however, and his body temperature is much higher than human heat signatures should be."

"So what do we do?" Shiro asked, stepping forward.

"Set him on the bed, I believe we have a liquid nutrients bag for humans sitting around somewhere," Coran said, going off to find it.

Keith carefully dropped Lance onto the cot, his head lolling to the side.

Shiro rested a hand on his shoulder, smiling, "Go take a shower and get changed."

Keith nodded and, with one final glance towards the comatose paladin, left to do as ordered.

Keith took a long, steamy shower to stave off the chill eating at his limbs from the dip he took and to make him feel less... disgusting. He grimaced just thinking about how long Lance must've sat like that.

A frown tugged at his lips as he shut the faucet off, grabbing the towel hanging over the edge and wrapping it snugly around his hips. None of them had gotten sick with regular illness since starting Voltron a few years ago, how had Lance contracted this? Was it a human illness?

Keith dressed quickly, putting on some slippers before going to the med bay. Everyone, including Pidge and Hunk, was standing around Lance's bed when he got in. "Did you get Blue?"

Hunk looked back at him with a small, pained smile. "Yeah, she's fine."

Keith rubbed his arm uncomfortably, hesitantly stepping forward. "How is he?"

"His fever has gone down to a tolerable level, but he has yet to awaken," Coran said. He held a monitor in his hand.

"Is that bad?" Keith asked with a furrowed brow.

"Not at all," Coran replied somewhat jovially, "his body is just trying to heal itself. It's exceptionally good, all things considered."

Keith nodded slowly, Lance didn't look any better, but what did he know? He looked down at his feet, his fists clenching at his sides. He should've been there.

Pidge came to stand by his side, lightly bumping her shoulder against his. Keith looked down at her and she responded with a small smile. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a small side hug.

"He'll be fine," she said with little hesitation. Keith just nodded.

Coran clapped twice loudly, startling all conscious people in the room. "Alrighty, then! All of you need to go have a long rest. Today has been a taxing day, and it's time to unwind."

"But--" Hunk started to say. Coran interrupted him with a finger wagging in the air,

"Hup-up-up, nope." he started flapping his hands, palms down, towards the door, "Rest," He gave a sincere smile, "he's in good hands, for the night."

Keith found himself about to protest, but Shiro gently grasped his elbow, urging him to leave with the rest of them. "We can all have some warm milk before bed, huh?"

"I'm lactose-intolerant," Keith muttered, still following after him.

"Warm almond milk, then," Shiro corrected with a soft, playful nudge to his side.

"Do they even have almond milk in space?" Pidge asked, her nose scrunched in confusion.

"I think I saw something that looked sort of like almond milk once," Hunk said.

The next morning, it was eerily silent in the castle.

"Hunk?" Keith opened the kitchen door to find it empty, the breakfast that usually sat on the table was absent and the kitchen smelled as sterile as it did after Hunk had wiped it down the night before.

That was weird. Maybe he decided to stay with Lance instead of cooking?

Keith shrugged and started towards the med bay, immediately assuming that that was where everyone was.

It wasn't.

The door creaked open, and the only one who was present was the still unconscious Lance. Not even Coran was in. Curiously, he shut the door and stepped out, making a beeline for Shiro's room.

Keith pressed his hand to the scanning pad, knowing that Shiro had programmed him into his entry key. "Hey Shiro--"

Shiro lied, curled up on his side on the ground, his face scrunched in pain.

"Shiro?" Keith immediately knelt down, taking his face into his shaking hands. He was warm.

Shiro's eyes opened slowly, "Keith."

"What's wrong, are you okay?" Keith asked him almost frantically, his eyes roving over his form.

Shiro groaned lowly in his throat, "I don't..." Shiro's nose scrunched and he breathed heavily out his nose. "feel so good."

"Okay, don't worry, I'll take you to the med bay and get Coran, okay?" He moved to kneel on his toes, lifting Shiro's flesh arm and using it to heave Shiro's weight from the floor to his shoulders. "Shit," he hissed, his legs shaking at how heavy he was. "Work with me, here, Shiro."

"Sorry," Shiro said next to his ear, his shaking legs moving to take on as much weight as they could.

"It's okay, you're okay," he panted, slowly starting to assist-slash-drag Shiro out of his room.

They got halfway down the hall before Shiro started spasming, his metal hand coming to clasp over his mouth. He started gagging and sinking to the floor, bile and spit slipping through his fingers.

Keith sank to the floor with him, his wide eyes locked on Shiro's hand. "Shit, can you get up again? I can't carry you, Shiro, I can't."

"Sorry," Shiro said in a weak whisper, he leaned his head on Keith's arm, panting. "I don't know what this is."

"I think you caught whatever Lance has." Keith wet his lips with his tongue before pulling on Shiro's arm, trying to get him up. "Come on, we have to get up."

With some effort, they were both standing, both sets of legs straining under the weight. They only got one more step before all of Shiro's weight pressed onto him and he fell to his knees. He hissed as the ground dug into them. "Shiro?"

Shiro's eyes had slipped closed, his face gone slack. How had he gotten this bad this quickly? He was fine last night!

Keith slipped Shiro's arm from his shoulders and lied him down on the ground. He couldn't carry him by himself; he needed help. "I'll be right back, Shiro, it'll be okay."

He jogged to the closest room which happened to be Pidge's, he knocked. "Pidge? Are you awake? I need some help, Shiro's sick!"

The only responding sound was Keith's panting breath. He knocked again, harder. "Pidge!"

Still nothing. "Dammit," he hissed.

He moved to the next door over. Hunk never had his door locked, so, in his desperation, he just walked in.

Hunk was under his blankets, sleeping.

Keith moved forward quickly, shaking the large man, "Hunk, wake up."

Hunk blinked his eyes open, glancing at Keith. "Keith? What's up?"

Relief flooded him immediately, "Shiro's sick, I can't get him to the med bay by myself, I need help."

Hunk got up, "Where is he?"

Luckily, together they managed to get Shiro to the bed bay, lying him down on the cot next to Lance. Hunk glanced around, "Where is Coran?"

"I don't know," Keith said, his breathing labored.

Hunk frowned and reached over to pick up the monitor Coran had had last night. His brow furrowed further and his eyes snapped up to glance at the bag, something akin to an IV, hanging next to his bed. It was drained. "This should've been replaced hours ago," Hunk said.

"Why would Coran leave him like this?" Keith asked as Hunk moved to the storage closet in the back, pulling out another bag.

"I don't know, but I plan on finding out, that's for sure." Hunk set up the bag, replacing the needle in his arm, "I don't know how to take it apart, so I have to just..."

"I'm going to try and find everyone else, take care of Lance and Shiro?" Keith said hopefully.

Hunk flashed him a reassuring smile, "I'll watch them, go find Coran."

Keith nodded gratefully before running out of the room to go find Coran. He was the only one who would know how to fix this.

He found Coran, but not the way he thought he would. The orange-haired Altean was spasming, a yellowish, slick fluid pooling around him. Princess Allura seemed to be experiencing the same thing a couple of feet away.

Panic froze his limbs. What the hell was that stuff? Could Alteans have seizures? Were they having seizures?

Keith lightly touched Coran's arm, ignoring the fluid, "Coran?"

Coran's eyes opened for a second, his irises landed on Keith for only a moment before they rolled back in his head and only the whites of his eyes stared back at Keith.

Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic, Deep breaths.

Keith took a deep breath. Calm down, patience yields focus.

Keith stood and turned on his heel, running back to the med bay. Hunk had to know what to do.

He caught himself on the door frame that led to the med bay, his feet slipping on the floor. Hunk looked up at him with wide eyes. Was it just Keith or did he look pale?

No, Keith, you're just making the situation worse in your head. Catastrophizing.

"What's wrong? Did you find him?" Hunk asked, his hand pulling away from where'd he'd had his hand on the cloth resting on Shiro's forehead.

Keith swallowed, nodding and catching his breath, "I found Allura and Coran in the control room, they're bot dripping--fluids and, I don't know, seizing or something."

"What?" Hunk asked, horror creeping up in his tone, "Can Alteans contract human illness?"

"I don't know!" Keith exclaimed in frustration. He threw a hand to gesture to Shiro and Lance, "Do we even know that this is a human illness?"

Hunk groaned loudly, "Where on Earth is Pidge?"

"I tried her door earlier, but she didn't reply," Keith told him. An uncertain expression took over Hunk's reliable features.

"What do we do?" Hunk asked. Keith could only shrug, he had hoped Hunk would know.

"Come help me get Allura and Coran here we'll...we'll figure the rest out afterward," Keith said slowly, worrying his lip between sharp canines.

"Okay, yeah, let's do that," Hunk said with a sigh.

Together, they managed to have both Coran and Allura in the med bay, but then they ran into a problem. There were only three cots.

They gently set Coran on the last cot and, for lack of further options, set Allura on one of the metal tables. Neither of them had stopped their spasming, but it had settled into a less concerning twitch. Or, maybe it was more concerning. Keith didn't know.

Hunk looked at him with his hands resting on his hips, "Do we keep spare mattresses in the castle?"

Keith shook his head, "No, we looked when the Blade stayed. I'll go grab my bed and some extra blankets and pillows."

"That sounds good. I'll go with you, make it a faster job, yeah?" Hunk smiled.

Keith returned the smile, "Yeah."

Together, they dragged Keith twin-sized mattress into the med bay, resting it on the floor near Coran's cot and setting Allura down on it, their hands slick with whatever was coming out of the Altean duos' pores.

Hunk sniffed one of his hands, making a face, "That's rank."

"What is it?" Keith asked, moving to the sink sat in the corner of the room to wash his hands off.

"I don't know," Hunk said warily, "but whatever it is, there's no way it's good."

Hours later, they'd found some books of Altean health and were able to find something akin to fluid nutrients to set them up on while they tried to figure out what was happening.

"We should call Dr. Holt," Hunk suggested. At this point, Keith was almost entirely sure that the dark man's added paleness was not a trick of the mind, but he didn't want to bring it up in fear of having to deal with this nightmare by himself.

Keith shrugged, "I guess we don't have anything else to do. But what would he know about Alteans?"

"Last time Pidge visited she gave him a couple books on Altean science. Hopefully, she slipped a medical book in there," Hunk said as they started towards the control room.

Keith let Hunk deal with the technological side of things as he sat back, waiting to see if Dr. Holt would answer them, hoping he would because what other option did they have?

For once, something had gone right and the screen soon showed an exhausted Dr. Holt with an equally as exhausted Mrs. Holt sitting up beside him. Usually, Keith would feel guilty for waking the two, but he had bigger things to worry about than a good night's sleep.

"Do you boys even know what time it is?" Dr. Holt asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Dr. Holt we have an emergency." Keith stepped forward, the urgency in his tone seeming to wake Dr. Holt up more. "Do you remember reading anything about Altean illnesses?"

Dr. Holt thought for a moment, his finger resting on his chin. "I don't believe so, why? Are your Altean friends sick?"

Hunk was unusually grim. "It's more than that, Dr. Holt. The humans are getting sick, too, and we don't know what to do or what's causing it."

"I see. I believe Matt said something about studying Altean medicines, so he would know more. Tell me, is Katie sick, too?" Dr. Holt asked.

Keith and Hunk shared a glance. "Uh, we haven't seen her and her bedroom door is locked."

"Your castle has lock override codes, right? Katie's would be 0003, I'm sure of it. Please make sure she's okay."

Keith nodded firmly. "We will."

"Thank you, Dr. Holt, we'll let you and your wife get back to sleep, now, sorry to bother you at such a late hour," Hunk said.

"Don't worry about it boys, keep me updated."

"I'm going to go try to override code on Pidge's door," Keith said immediately once Dr. Holt's face flickered off the screen.

"I'll call Matt, then." Hunk said. Keith could see sweat beading at his temple and tried not to be worried.

Who was he kidding, he was a worried mess of absolute shit.

The override code worked. His worst fears were a reality, Pidge was lying on the floor on her en-suite bathroom, her skin damp and her breathing labored.

She was easy enough to carry, and he ran her into the med bay, lying her next to Allura and shakily slipping an IV into her arm, meanwhile, he wished he knew how to use the monitor. He wanted to know if she was okay. She didn't look like she was.

They would have to drag another mattress in for her, but for now, she was fine, and Keith decided to go back to Hunk and maybe calm down.

Or not.

Yeah, probably or not. As Keith got closer, he heard yelling. Yelling was usually an "It's not time to cam down right now" thing.

It was Matt, screaming for help. Keith skidded into the room, his eyes catching immediately on Hunk in the corner, puking.

Keith's breathing became heavy with barely-concealed panic as he knelt next to him, "Please tell me you're not sick."

Hunk glanced at him, his eyes watery. "I won't."

"Now isn't the time for sarcasm," Keith hissed, his panic edging into his voice. "Are you sick? Or did you eat something bad?"

"Sick," Hunk groaned, another gag making his body tremble.

"Keith!" Keith turned back to the screen where Matt was staring down at them in concern. "What the hell is happening?"

"Everyone in the castle is sick with some--some virus and everyone's just dropping," Keith told him, his hand not leaving Hunk's shoulder. "We called hoping you knew something about Altean illness?"

"The Alteans are sick, too? What symptoms is everyone else having?" Matt asked.

"Puking, sweating, fever," Keith listed off the top of his head.

"Stomach cramps," Hunk added with a hiss.

"It just sounds like a stomach bug," Matt said, he left the screen for a moment and came back with a stack of papers. he rifled through them for a second before looking back up. "Alteans don't have the organs to process the virus."

"So, what do we--" Keith looked back at Hunk with a grimace, "--I do, then?"

"What are the Alteans' symptoms?"

"They're sweating yellow stuff and seizing? Sort of?" Keith told him, hoping he wasn't missing anything.

Matt nodded, humming. "The stuff they're sweating is probably bile. I'm not... entirely sure how their organs work, but I'm pretty sure some part of them allows them to do that. I don't know what the seizing is and I don't know what to do about that but if you can find an Altean translator, I can help you find the medicine you need."

Keith could've kissed him. "Thank you," he breathed, standing to rifle through the Altean tech Pidge was tinkering with on her workstation.

He turned one thing on, the message 'TYPE ENGLISH MESSAGE' appearing on the screen. He held it up for Matt to see. "I think I found it."

Matt nodded once. "Good, go back to the med bay and get me every purple bottle of Altean medicine."

Turns out there are a lot of purple medicine bottles.

Matt, bless his soul, was Keith's anchor during the madness for the next four days.

Lance came to first and, despite Keith's misgivings, was extremely helpful in keeping Keith calm under the extreme stress of taking care of six other people with very little help. Coran was the second to bounce back and that was when Keith and Matt were able to take a step back and let Coran take care of everyone.

Eventually, they were all feeling much better and, while it would be burned into Keith's memory for a long time to come, the storm had passed.

"Hey, why didn't you get sick?"

"Galra stuff, probably."

#badthingshappenbingo #stomach flu #voltron #vld #fluff #sickness #light angst #keith #hunk #pidge #matt holt #shiro #sick shiro

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winterverses · 6 years

Text

Walking Wounded - Chapter Thirty-Seven

Looking back, Anne could never quite remember how things started or who’d woken up who, but it took until midafternoon for them to keep their hands off each other long enough to scrounge up some food and check for anything that needed their attention. Spock had left a message for both her and Uhura saying that there were some pots and soil in one of the science labs. Uhura had suggested a time for them to get together. Anne tapped out thanks and acceptance with shaky fingers. Jim dropped a tray of snacks on the nightstand and collapsed back onto the bed near where she sat, then seemed to notice how close that put him to her thigh and gently sank his teeth into it. Anne fumbled and nearly dropped the padd, gasping as a shiver ran up her spine. “Oh my god, stop, wait, I just have one more message here.”

Obviously knowing she didn't mean it, Jim ignored her, pushing himself up and letting his lips trail further up her thigh. Anne quickly checked the last message, hoping to reply to it before she got carried away. It was from Mr. Chekov, who’d asked her to meet him in the sensor lab in… one hour. And he’d sent the message first thing that morning. “Shit.” Anne quickly tapped out an acceptance and an apology.

Jim paused. “Hmm?”

“Mr. Chekov needs to see me in an hour.”

Teeth grazed the inside of her thigh. “Tell him two hours. At least.”

“Shit. I already said yes.” Anne sighed and logged out of the padd, tossing it away. It hit the end of the bed and slid off, thumping on the floor.

“Uh-oh,” Jim said, with an extreme lack of concern. “I guess I’ll just have to give you a reason to come back quick.”

Anne’s answer was just an inarticulate noise as his lips found a sensitive spot.

Nearly an hour later, Anne was dreamily shrugging into a dress, something short and loose and flowing, her hair still wet from the shower and pinned up and out of her way. Kirk lay on the bed, skin still flushed and damp, a hint of a very satisfied smile on his lips. Tugging the high neckline of her dress straight, Anne let her eyes sweep over him, thoroughly regretting that she had to leave instead of cuddling up to his side and just… She cut herself off. If she wasn’t careful, she would be late.

“I am not kissing you goodbye, because if I do, I won’t leave,” she said, taking a step toward the door.

Kirk opened an eye, his grin widening. “Aww, come on.”

A twist of hunger started low in her at the sound of his voice, the little growl in it even more tempting than he already was lying naked on the bed like that. It was ridiculous to still want him so much after they'd spent the entire morning catering to their desire. “That would really be pushing it,” Anne said, knowing it was a terrible idea. “Even if I didn’t decide to stay, you might decide to keep me.”

“I promise, I won’t do anything,” he said. “Come on. We can handle it. We’re adults.”

Anne sighed. This was definitely a bad idea. “Fine,” she said, walking the few quick steps over to the bed. She laid a hand on his chest, leaning down to kiss him, and wondered what she was getting into.

Several minutes later she heard a padd chiming, and she tore her lips and hands away from him. It took more effort than it should have. “You liar,” she said, trying to catch her breath, resettling her panties and her dress. “I’m late. Goddamn it.”

“It’s too hard to be an adult on my day off,” Kirk said, flipping the blankets over himself and closing his eyes. “Bring me some coffee when you get back.”

“Ugh. Fine. But I’m adding ‘lazy, entitled piece of shit’ to the list.” Anne turned and strode to the door, grinning.

“Descriptive. I like it. See you later,” he said behind her, not insulted in the least.

When she reached the sensor lab, Mr. Chekov was the only one inside, tapping equations into the computer. His face brightened when he saw her. “Ms. Hardesty, I vas just about to send you a message--”

“I’m so sorry,” Anne said, hoping she didn't sound too breathless. “I didn’t mean to keep you waiting--”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, I vas finishing calculations for ze others anyvay. If you vill please sit here,” he gestured to the chair next to him, “I vill implant ze monitor and ve can start calibration.”

Hurrying over to the indicated seat, Anne unobtrusively resettled the wide neckline of her dress, regretting her absent-minded choice of clothing. Jim had left a small mark on her shoulder at some point, and it would have been terribly gauche to show it off. Besides, there had been some definite signs of interest from Mr. Chekov, and it wouldn’t be polite to rub it in. Taking her seat, she crossed her legs, suddenly very aware of how short her skirt was, and how unsettled Jim’s hands had made her.

Mr. Chekov was polite; he glanced, but it was almost inadvertent and his eyes didn’t linger on her legs. When he lifted the hypospray, however, she saw him hesitate for a moment, and then his other hand came up, delicately touching her chin. The air suddenly seemed to congeal, and Anne felt her heart rate jump. “Turn your head like so, please,” Mr. Chekov said, guiding her head to the side and tilting it.

The very, very light touch on her chin reminded her of the night Jim had kissed her-- but the tension now had no outlet, and seemed stronger for it. Anne knew that it would take about a minute and a half of effort to get this adorable young man into bed, if she so chose. Maybe only a minute, if he didn’t care that she was living with his Captain. Anne found herself toying with the idea, watching him from the corner of her eye. She had never been the monogamous type.

Something must have shifted in him as well, because she saw his gaze flick to her lips, her eyes, and then back to the job at hand. “Perheps zis is not the best injection site,” he said, his fingers sliding along her jaw and his thumb rubbing over the spot behind her ear, sensual only because she was aware of the attraction between the two of them. “Zere is a wery small trace of metal in the implant. Detectable, but I had planned to hide it behind your earring so thet it vould not register as odd.” His thumb rubbed over that spot again, and then he let go of her jaw. “I did not realize your ears vere not pierced. Zat is uncommon.”

Anne looked back at him head-on, raising her eyebrows. “I’m not sure what to do if that won’t work. I could pierce my ears, I suppose. I don’t think it would be remarked on.”

“Do you hev any other implants zat could mask ze monitor?” he asked, his serious eyes staying on her face. “A joint, perheps, or a regulator?”

Anne shook her head. “Just the other implant. They haven’t put it back in yet, though.”

He nodded once. “Zat vill do. It only needs to be close enough zat a medical scan vill not see it as a separate item.” He looked her over, attempting to hide his appreciation and succeeding-- almost. “Vhere vas it?”

She had to stop herself from laughing, although she didn’t hide her amusement. Uncrossing her legs, she drew up her skirt, leaving her hand between her legs to hold it in place… although she knew that it wouldn’t look quite that innocent. It didn’t feel innocent either, not with the way Jim had left her. Flicking her eyes downward, she said, “Just there, where the scar is.”

He followed her gaze, and then looked back upward to her face, surprised. There was a moment when Anne could see the flicker of desire burning away his confusion, but his gaze moved back down and he appeared to try to keep his mind on the job. “Hmm.” After a moment, he looked back up at her. “It vill vork, but… do you mind?” he asked, his free hand moving to hover near her thigh. At her murmur of assent, his hand came down, warm and firm, easing her leg to the side. Surprisingly confident for a young man. She suddenly recalled what Jim had said about Mr. Chekov using his innocence.

“Is that all right, Mr. Chekov?” Anne said, spreading her legs. Really, the man had to have some room to work.

A flash of answering humor flitted through his eyes. “Under ze circumstances, Pavel vill do,” he said, his voice ironic.

Oof. A sense of humor, too. She could… “Pavel.” Anne inclined her head, her amusement solidifying further. She could, but… she didn't really want to. Not when she had Jim waiting for her at home. “I should apologize to you, I think. I must have seemed very rude when we spoke in the lounge. That was not my intention.”

The sideways reminder of Kirk did seem to hit the mark, although he didn’t lift his hand. Anne couldn’t disapprove. She liked some nerve. “No offense vas taken. Perheps some other time you vill join me in a game of kadis-kot. You and ze Keptain, of course.”

Anne couldn't help a smile. How sweet-- she could tell his offer was genuine. While she didn’t regret Jim, she did regret, a little, that even a taste would make her feel guilty. That wasn't normal for her, but… Jim was the exception to all her rules, it seemed. “That’s a very kind offer, Pavel. We’ll take you up on that sometime, both of us.”

“It vould be my pleasure,” he said, then looked back down at her thigh, bringing the hypospray to the side of the scar. “For now, ve should finish this. Ze implant vill take more testing, as it vill need to gather information from further avay.”

Just because she was strangely attached to Jim didn't mean she had to be bored. She couldn't see Pavel doing anything beyond flirting back after that reminder, even if she was at her most outrageous. “Don’t be in such a rush,” she said, her voice becoming teasingly suggestive. “I’m just fine where I am.”

Chekov gave her a very speculative look, then triggered the hypospray. It stung her thigh, maybe a little worse than the regular sprays did. She hissed in pain, and he automatically ran his hand over the spot, the pressure soothing it. Or at least it got her mind on things other than the pain. Chekov left his hand on her thigh for a beat longer, and then lifted it, his mouth curving in a little smile. “You are quite velcome to stay as you are for as long as you like,” he said as he turned to the computer, setting the hypo down and starting to tap out commands.

Chuckling, Anne crossed her legs again, the scarred one on top, and didn’t pull down her skirt. “How hospitable of you,” she teased, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair and her chin in her palm. “Are you a hospitable sort of guy, Pavel? How many of the women here on board would say so?”

He gave her a flirtatious little glance as he picked up a sensor, then turned back to her to run it along the spot where he’d injected the monitor. “A few,” he said, pressing the sensor to the skin.

It was colder than it should have been; Anne gasped softly, noting a brief flicker of desire in his eyes. “I think you’re being modest. You know, I dated a Russian man once. He used to call me something, but he wouldn't tell me what it meant. Mishka. Does that make sense?”

“It means ‘little mouse,’” Pavel said, rolling the sensor over to a different part of her thigh. “It vas probably because you are wery small. You have… fine bones.” He grinned. “Zat is not vhat I vould call you, though. Lisichka, maybe.”

That was one Anne had never heard before. “Oh? And what does that mean?”

“I should let you find out for yourself,” he said, removing the sensor, and then turning back to the computer to tap in some more data, grinning.

“That’s not fair. If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to guess until I get it right,” Anne said, straightening in her chair. “Hmm. It ends in -ka, so it’s a diminutive.”

“Yes,” he said, tapping in more numbers. “Do you know wery much Russian?”

“No, not very much. A little. Pozhaluysta, spasibo, just the most basic things any traveler will pick up.” Anne smiled at him. “Lisichka, right?” she asked, taking care to pronounce it the way he had.

“Wery good,” he said, sounding impressed with her mimicry.

“It must be some kind of animal,” Anne mused. “Not a cat, I do know that one.”

“Correct, it is an animal but not a cat.” Pavel’s grin widened. “I vill give you a hint: it has pointed ears like a cat.”

“You made it too easy,” Anne laughed. “It’s a fox, isn’t it?”

“Correct. Lisichka means ‘little fox,’” he said, glancing back at her, clearly enjoying her laughter. “Foxes are also fine-boned, and they are wery intelligent and cunning tricksters. Russians hev alvays been fascinated by zem.”

Anne raised her eyebrows again, catching the subtext implied by the name. “Well, how very flattering. Thank you, Pavel.” She grinned at him. “What about you? Are you a nickname kind of guy?”

He picked up the sensor once again, and rested it against her thigh. Despite the fact that she could feel the warmth of his hand on her skin, he was careful not to touch her. “Depending on ze nickname, I might not be opposed to it.”

“Good,” Anne said promptly. “Because kotyonok suits you.”

It was his turn to raise his eyebrows at her. “Vhy is that?” he asked, bemused.

Anne let her eyelids lower just a hint. “You should probably look up the old slang meaning of ‘tomcatting’.”

Curious, he nodded, then typed one-handed into the computer while holding the sensor against her leg. After reading the definition, he started to chuckle. “You may hev a point there.”

“I know I do,” Anne said, still watching from under lowered lashes. “And who doesn’t want to hold a kitten? They just beg to be stroked. I'm quite fond of them myself.”

He had that innocent look again, the one that Anne was starting to realize was him at his most audacious. “In thet case, you may call me kotyonok if I may call you lisichka. It vould only be fair.”

What a terrible flirt he was. How fun. “Sounds good to me.”

Their conversation continued in that vein for some time, the two of them making plays on words and innuendos that were clearly just for fun while he made adjustments to the sensors, making sure they were perfectly keyed in. Eventually, he sighed and blanked the computer screen. “Beautiful lisichka, I no longer hev an excuse to keep you here. You may go back to your day, and perheps next time I see you in the lounge you vill come and hev a drink with me, vith or vithout the Keptain, as he pleases.”

“Of course I will.” Anne stood, then gently laid a hand on his arm, stilling him. Before he could second-guess her, she flashed him a mischievous grin and stood on tiptoe, planting a kiss on his cheek before stepping back. “Enjoy yourself, kotyonok. Do svidaniya.”

As she left the room, she heard him mutter softly, “Bozhe moi,” and couldn’t help a surge of smug satisfaction.

Kirk was not yet out of bed when she returned to their quarters, so Anne dialed up some Turkish style coffee and breezed into the bedroom, balancing the tray on one hand. There was nothing left of their snacks from earlier but crumbs; she stacked the tray on top of the older one and began to kick off her shoes. Kirk’s eyes opened, either the scent of coffee or the small noises she’d made waking him, and he grinned sleepily, reaching out and catching her wrist in a light grip. She’d found it easier and easier to let him do things like that the more used to it she was. “Good morning, cher,” she teased softly. She’d called him that once before, in bed, and told a little white lie about why. Just out of habit. Maybe he’d ask about it again… and if he did, she might tell the truth.

Gently, he tugged on her arm, drawing her onto the bed beside him. “Good morning,” he answered, his fingers skating under the edge of her dress, easing it up. That was fine. That was good too. Who needed food anyway?

Kirk’s intentions were clear, and Anne did nothing to stop him. She helped him get the dress off her, then sank down on the bed beside him as he got rid of the rest of her clothes. “You’re lucky I made it back,” she said. “Pavel is a little charmer when he wants to be.”

Jim’s hands hesitated, then he finished stripping off her brassiere. “I’d gotten that impression, yes.” Pushing himself up to lean on his elbow, he began to take her hair down. “Did you want to let him charm you?” he asked evenly, his eyes just a bit guarded.

There was a momentary temptation to say yes and deal with the fallout, run back to her old normality of strings of lovers, but Anne could recognize that desire as both false and self-destructive. “Not really. It’s flattering, but I like where I am.”

The guarded look went out of his eyes, replaced by affectionate desire. “But a little bit,” he teased, dropping her hairpins on the tray near the coffee.

“A little. He’s adorable. I’m going to call him ridiculous pet names and flirt shamelessly. I hope that doesn’t bother you.” Anne ran her hand down Jim’s chest, tracing where the edge of the blanket met his skin.

“Who doesn’t flirt?” Jim asked, flipping the covers back and gathering her up against him. “I’d like to keep the rest of you for myself, though.” His hand slid down, moving beneath her panties.

Anne arched her back, lifting her hips so that he could help her wriggle her panties off. That bit of possessiveness made her want to shiver. “Sounds good to me,” she murmured, drawing him down into a kiss that quickly turned heated.

A while later, he asked between kisses, “How long before we have to get up?”

“Four hours,” she replied, her hands already wandering lower.

He murmured against her mouth, sounding satisfied. “Let’s get some music on in here.” At his command, the computer began to play something she recognized, something with a good beat and ridiculous lyrics. Anne laughed and bit his lip, urging him over her, at once full of hunger and utterly content.

#James T. Kirk/OC #Jim Kirk/OC #Star Trek Fanfiction #Star Trek #fanfic #dark romance #Star Trek: Walking Wounded #ST:WW

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apologeticbepo · 6 years

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ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ with @hopefulgeorgia (continued from here)

Bepo was brave. Bepo was a warrior. Bepo was a mink and that meant he knew how to put up a fight. But that did not mean he was that fond of warfare. To put it in easy to comprehend, childish terms... They had started it.

It was easy for the Polar Tang to go unnoticed when submarines were not anyone’s first choice of vessel, for pirates and marines alike, and thus it couldn’t be said the Heart Pirates were used to spotting other submarines when travelling underwater. Oftentimes it was easy to forget the atmosphere altogether was a reality when all the windows showed was an immense blue sprinkled with the rainbows that were the sea creatures, the most beautiful painting in existence for it was full of life, and the only one that mattered. This world was so gorgeous the idea of dismissing life ‘outside’ was tempting...

Or so it would be, were it not for the oxygen running low and the need for the sunlight great. And let’s not get started on the need for fresh air twenty people and a bear had when living in a cramped place with a great need of stinky oil all the time and meals fashioned out of canned goods when produce, eggs and milk disappeared... Oh yes... There was flatulence and the obvious inability to crack a window made it harder to enjoy the view when the air was pungent...

Fortunately, the Tang had a few tricks of her own to make life bearable and fun most of the time, though advanced technology would never replace the sun and the fresh air.

Unfortunately... this was one of those days.

Bepo’s tongue stuck out. His mouth was all he had to breathe, because his nose was plugged with a wooden clothes peg. Being a bear, his sense of smell was greatly acute, meaning he was the first one to smell fresh laundry and those yummy meals prior to the time of hardship known as ‘can season’, but also the first one to smell oil leaks and foul scents. Such was the case of the farts Shachi and Penguin released in a competition against each other, after a modest lunch of beans. If their criterium was pungency of the smell or how loud the cracking noise was, he did not know. And he did not care.

“Do you guys really have to do that?” Where was Captain to tell them to shove a cork in it when needed? Probably in his study or in the medical room. Or maybe in the bathroom - just because he was a doctor that didn’t mean Law had to divide his time between two work areas.

“Shut up. It’s not like you fart soap, you know? Besides, we’re bored”

A perfectly poor excuse, the mink thought but decided to ignore the sass and keep track of the inertial guidance system. Sometimes there was not much for a navigator to do but check Log Poses, Eternal Poses and controls to make sure the Tang was following its route with no complications. Bepo may not know much of the so-called lingo but he made sure to keep track of each and every mishap the sub encountered, writing it down in her log.

“There’s lots of things you can do if you’re bored” suggested the equally bored mink. “Like cleaning the kitchen or doing the laundry or...”

Though only a duo, Shachi and Penguin ganged up on Bepo as though they were the entire crew. “Bepo! Are you bossing us around?” They feigned shock and Bepo reacted with genuine distress, shaking his head to deny it and apologising in a frantic way. He did not want to play captain!

While the Heart Pirates went about their boyish antics, a pirate ship nearby picked up on the usually ignored submarine. A massive ship it was, resembling a cargo vessel, clad in metal as though it were armour. It made the yellow sub look insignificant. Wooden elements were conspicuously absent save for its flooring. More curious than its design was the technology it housed, apt for a submarine. It was its sonar that found the Tang as if it was naught but an oversized fish or funny-looking juvenile mammal.

There was a ‘puru puru’ chant and immediately the crew stopped arguing. The snail in question was normally a quiet creature, just sitting there on the dashboard and keeping them silent company. In fact, this was the first time it rang. Working at a low frequency, this Den Den Mushi was a means of radio communication and a counterpart to the regular snails one expected to find in a ship. It was not expected to ‘ring’ at all unless the same technology was used - submarine technology.

A message was transmitted once the speaker-microphone was raised and a brave ‘Hullo?’ worthy of note uttered. Bepo’s first thought was that someone was in distress, blindly transmitting at whatever similar vessel might be near, and what a lucky thing it was for them that it was the Polar Tang they should reach! Captain would listen to them and help, provided a nice reward lay in the horizon of certainty or in case mercy descended upon him. But contrary to Bepo’s expectations, what the Heart Pirates got was a sassy, mean, gross ‘That’s a cute sub you got there!’

Cute?! No way! Sure, the Tang was not the most terrifying vessel ever to sail the seas, not even the most fear-inspiring one currently sailing the Grand Line but to call it ‘cute’ was disgustingly patronising! Only her crew could call her thus. Who even called any vessel with the word ‘DEATH’ painted on it ‘cute’?!

“Such a puny thing... We almost took it for a goldfish!” There was laughter from the other side. Bepo couldn’t bear it.

He stole the speaker-microphone from Penguin’s hand. “Apologise! You apologise right now!” At being asked who the fuck was talking, Bepo miraculously calmed down and replied “Sorry! My name is Bepo and--” Penguin cut him off with a 'DON’T APOLOGISE YOURSELF, YOU IDIOT!’

Law, who had this paradoxically unnatural and intrinsic ability to materialise himself demanded to know what the hell was going on. He said nothing of the aroma still lingering in the control room - and which was doomed to stick around for at least another day if they were lucky to reach the island Bepo had his eye on in about an hour and allow the Tang to breathe fresh air - and the mink could not tell if Captain was just that used to bad stenches - far from him to insinuate Law was flatulent, but bodies are smelly things whether dead or alive - or if the urgency of this surprise and stupid call just robbed his complete attention, leaving the topic of farts behind.

The following exchange of words over the radio Den Den Mushi was so unpleasant Bepo pulled his ears down, hoping the fur on the top of his head would muffle the swear words. The bodiless voices dared Law and his crew to ‘keep up’, to which his face lit up and he smiled like a deviant child who’s being asked to come and play. Everyone knew what that meant... But before they could give chase, something hit against the Tang’s side.

“Shit! That almost hit the starboard diving plane!”

Oh dear! Such a hit was even worse than one directed at the hull. Bepo was feeling lost. His martial arts did not do when there was no enemy for him to kick but being a navigator almost as much as he was a warrior, he answered his captain with a loud ‘Aye, aye!’ when Law called his name - just the name sufficed for the mink to know what he wanted. If the pirate foes wanted to play underwater warfare, the Tang, too, had projectiles to send their way and it was Bepo’s job to avoid as many hits as possible, while trying to keep the course steady.

The chase started, both vessels advancing westwards. Checking the inertial guidance once again, Bepo noted the enemy was taking the same route so they must be travelling to the same island. This he communicated to his captain, who eyed yet another monitor, this one broadcasting images from the sub’s outside the round window did not show.

A plan was devised. Making use of the geography before the island’s surrounding reef, combined with a cat-and-mouse game and a joke on the human ego, the Heart Pirates managed to attack the anonymous ship and lay low for a while before calling an ambush. Such was the advantage of a cute, puny sub!

“Captain, we hit their rudder!”

At this emergency stop, the Polar Tang emerged to continue battle under the clouds. Were they fighting any other ship, Bepo might have stayed in the control room to provide an escape when all was said and done. Since the metallic vessel possessed equipment capable of detecting submarines and establishing underwater communications, though, there was no way he would not take a peek at this technology and steal it, if he deemed it helpful to his navigating and, by extension, helpful to the man he’d swore to follow and obey wherever he went a long time ago. And, why not?, sabotage it too... which Bepo would come to regret and apologise for it that meant people would be left drifting until death came for them!

The Heart Pirates boarded the metallic ship, finally looking upon its Jolly Roger consisting of a serpentine-looking animal. Bepo might have been able to identify what it was if only he had time to study it. Now, let it be said that, by now, Trafalgar Law’s crew had sized up the enemy and, without wishing to underestimate them, was able to tell they were more talk than force, even if by all accounts their firepower seemed superior when underwater - again, point to the smaller submarine with more freedom to move about! With the battle entering its second act on the foe’s ship’s deck, Law’s Devil Fruit gave the HP a good advantage.

Leaving Captain and crew behind, not out of cowardice but because he knew they could handle the situation without his help, Bepo entered the cabin, kicking unconscious whoever got in his way. The ship was rather empty inside, with more and more crewmates making their way up deck in order to fight the enemy they had clearly and erroneously underestimated.

“Let’s see what they got here”

The first thing that caught Bepo’s attention amongst and against the machinery was the twin snail of the one on the Tang’s dashboard, specialised in radio communications. Bepo hesitated... He could not hurt it! But he could not leave it behind with it being rare equipment... What to do? As a solution, the mink freed the Den Den Mushi from the attachment cords and placed him in the pocket he had on the inside of his jumpsuit, which he used to keep maps when necessary - and very, very much folded - and Law’s Vivre Card. Law kept Bepo’s as well.

As for the rest of the controls, Bepo recognised most of them and decided they were not worth the effort of stealing, as they rivalled the Tang’s. A powerful choreograph of kicks is what they met, as did the sonar which had detected the yellow submarine, but a portable sonar coated in yellow he did take, locking it in his armpit. If anything, it could be useful for their seabed exploring pastime.

The journey back outside was easy, or as easy as finding your way in a vessel whose layout you don’t know can be. The bear could use his sense of smell to find the breeze and the sea, and so he did.

On deck, he found incoherent yelling and whining and his Captain’s smile flashing in greatness. As far as Bepo was concerned, they should return to the Tang and continue their journey, bypassing the island they had been routing to and continue ‘can season’ a bit more, until a new stop was on the horizon.

Something watched from behind the main mast. It was big and furry and Bepo thought he saw a bear ear poking through before it was gone in less than a second. Was it waiting to pounce on him and attack? Avenge its fallen comrades? Or was it scared, trying to remain hidden behind a structure that was not large enough for its frame?

Still holding the portable device, Bepo stopped, ready to face the enemy. Could he be imagining things, though? Just then, the panda revealed itself and Bepo knew it was a female panda out of intuition and unexplainable knowledge, whereas any human would not make much of a clothed bear as either a female or male until they announced their sex.

A few bullets still darted around, hissing in the air but it was something altogether different that struck Bepo, right in his heart. All this time... he had thought himself alone. There were bear minks back in Zou, of course, but without his brother, without seeing a fellow bear as he travelled first Law and the original team even before they were a crew, and then under Law’s Jolly Roger, there were moments when Bepo felt less hopeful about finding a mate. A friend. A friend just like him, who knew how it was like to be a bear and how it was like to be a mink.

My, how his human friends had made fun of him for wondering whether there would be female bears at Amazon Lily... And here it was! A female bear. Even if she was a panda, judging by her distinct fur. She wore rags - thank God she was not naked to Bepo’s eyes! - and... A collar. So... she was a slave.

Hatred filled Bepo as though his body was naught but air and there was plenty of room for the feeling to use him as a mold. The first bear mink he saw and she was a slave to humans, just like most humans would have it. He did not have to know anything about her to feel sympathetic and angry, for of the human race he knew more than enough.

The panda was both fearful and courageous, telling him to stay back in a warning-like fashion.

“Easy, easy!” Bepo lifted his free paw as a sign of peace. “Sorry! My name is Bepo... That’s my crew. Yes, we... We killed these pirates!” Well he had not but there was no way Bepo would point digits at Law as though he were the one to blame, The Captain was never to blame. “They started it!” He uttered in a sort of boyish way. The panda was making him feel embarrassed and even more bashul than usual for some reason...

Waving with his paw as if it were a white flag - it was already the right colour - Bepo advanced a booted step forward. Then another. He wanted the panda to understand he meant no harm. “What’s your name? I’m Be-- Sorry, I already said that... I will find the quartermaster’s key for you, alright? And then you tell me your name, ok?”

#long post for ts #[*grabbing the tang dashboard* no you can't kick me out this is my home now nooo]#[i promise this is the last time i write warfare]#hopefulgeorgia #ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ [answer]#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ [a bear romance]

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iwannabeabadrobot · 7 years

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Ooooooh, Burn

It was so peaceful. There were no hums or beeps or alarms. Nobody was hailing her. All she could hear was the gentle rustling of a breeze through the tall trees she'd made the night before. The only thing missing was birds. That's how it would be on Earth. Melodious chirping. But this wasn't Earth. This place didn't even have a name. It had a classification: M.

Uhura laughed to herself at the thought that when she was done with it they'd have to add a new, 'U' classification, just so they could define what she'd done to it. She stared up through the branches of the tree to the lavender sky. She could decipher the sound of each leaf's brush against the others.

Next to her, Leonard was dead to the world, his heavy arm tucked protectively around her. His thumb pressed between two of her ribs. She leaned over to the crook between his jaw and neck and ran the tip of her nose along it, inhaling his smell. It was sweet and clean. He smelled like a doctor.

They were both wet. Soaked with sweat. It was hot here. Hotter than Earth. She wondered if they were in winter or summer. It didn't matter. She could build a mountain around them if it got too hot.

It was so easy. Everything here was so easy.

Wasn't that what she'd wanted? She thought so- but that was before. Before she had been elevated. Her eyes were open now. She could really see. She could see what was happening, how it was happening, and how it was changing every little moment. Thank goodness she didn't have to deal with cognitive disinhibition, or she'd go insane. Kirk wouldn't have been able to deal with it. He wouldn't be able to shut down all the tiny sounds.

The sounds of cells replicating, of every instance of contact between one organism and another, every shade of color in the spectrum, every frequency on the comms at once, that was all available to her. But thankfully, she could sort out what she needed and ignore the rest.

Apparently Leonard could do the same thing. She sat up, carefully, intertwining her fingers with his and steadily moving his arm to his other side. They were more than wet. They were muddy from the soil. They were naked and dirt-smeared and comfortable and happy and in total control. Uhura could process any cognitive information right now, but the emotion this was creating- she couldn't process that.

She had to get out- get clean.

Uhura looked at the spring and the tiny pond it had formed. She needed more water than that. So she walked, naked, through the brush and down the mountain some ways, until she found a spot that looked good. She closed her eyes.

Putting her new brain to good use, she isolated each molecule, each atom, each element she needed, to put together what she wanted there. She could feel the reactions- tearing apart and bonding. It was a little scary. At any moment she could be interrupted and could destroy everything on the planet- not just the little piece of paradise- that she was constructing on a whim.

When she opened her eyes, she was in turquoise water, submerged entirely. She leapt from the floor of the new lake and rose to the surface. She gasped when she felt the heat of the air above the water, and pushed her hair back, opening her eyes.

A waterfall gushed over the mountain, leading from that tiny spring she'd left at the camp. She passed under it a few times, scrubbing at her skin with her fingernails. It had been so long since she'd swum in real water. She dived, exploring the sights underwater, watching the breath leave her body in cascades of bubbles.

After a while she got out, but didn't bother to put her uniform back on. No reason to. Who'd she have to hide from? She knew this whole planet, and the one man on it knew her.

It was so easy. That was the second time she'd thought that just today. She was bored already.

Her thoughts were drawn again to the Valiant transmitter. Leonard was right. The Enterprise was nothing to what she was capable of creating here. But. The Enterprise could take her wherever she wanted to go. It could give her power over more than one planet.

She could go back to Earth. She could fix Earth. As utopian as many members of the Federation thought it was, Earth still had its problems. She could eliminate them. She could make it perfect. A frightening, exciting thought spread through her, from her stomach to the tips of her fingers: she could make the galaxy perfect…

There next to the lake, gleaming in the sunshine, was the transmitter. It had obeyed her thoughts.

She removed the side of it and a bundle of wires spilled out. She took her time figuring out which wire was responsible for each signal. It was easy already for her, since communications were her forte. She started rewiring. The plan was to create a false signal from Starfleet, telling the Enterprise to come back and pick them up, that they needed immediate medical attention- that their powers had been a short-lived fluke.

As soon as the Enterprise was in close enough range to detect that the signal had actually been sent by the transmitter, she would be able to harness transporters and get back aboard. Once she was aboard, that would be it. She'd let them get her before, but this time they didn't have Leonard and his hyposprays to help them. She had him.

She heard a splash. She looked over the waterfall. Speaking of him. There were no animals on the planet, so it couldn't be anyone else. Leonard surfaced, silver eyes exhilarated. That broad smile. She hardly ever got to see him smile. It was a rare occurrence.

Uhura felt guilty. He could be happy here. He could live a satisfied life with her, with a planet and creation of their own. Abandonment for her was an opportunity for him.

She cared for him. He was what she would have wanted if she'd never been enlightened by that new energy in her brain. He was stable, human, his outlook had been compatible with hers. And they could commiserate like nothing else. The best way to bond was over a mutual enemy… or friend.

She jumped in the water with him. He encircled her with his arms. Their skin was slick. His lips were warm against hers. He laughed. "This is just about the best shore leave I've ever had. I might as well be dreaming."

She smiled at him and pressed her forehead against his. "Then keep dreaming."

He pulled back. "What is it?"

She shook her head. "Nothing. I feel the same way." She kissed him again but he wasn't with her.

"No you don't-" he said. He was still half-smiling, still running his hands over her body, enjoying, exploring. He was so human. But his eyes were beyond her. They were on the transmitter. Shit.

"What's goin' on there?"

"Just seeing how it works, you know. Being surrounded by nature- it's- abrupt."

Leonard gulped down a mouthful of the fresh water. She could nearly see the gears turning in his head as his brow furrowed at her. He took some more and fountained it back into the lake. He shook his head.

"You know how it works. You made this, just this morning. That transmitter is Lincoln Logs to you right now."

Uhura frowned at him. She should have known that she would have to fight him on this.

"What are you doing with it?"

Uhura tried to swim away from him but he tightened his arms around her. She was flush against him. She ran her hands through his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist. But when she leaned in, he leaned back, avoiding her.

"Nooo, no. Nice try, but I'm too smart for that move now."

"Fine. I'm sending an emergency signal to the Enterprise to come pick us up."

Leonard gave her an incredulous look. "And why would they pick us up? They know we're in the throes of energy overload."

"I'm making it look like Starfleet is sending it."

He let her go now. "Ah ha. You push hard enough and you get to the heart of the matter. We can't do that, hon."

"Why do you care? Don't you know what we could do? They don't even know the power that's-"

"Thankfully, I didn't get as much juice in my brain as you do. I'm not feeling peckish for power." He immediately got out of the lake and walked towards the transmitter.

She took half a second to appreciate the view of him walking away from her, but knew that he was going to dismantle the transmitter.

"Don't."

"Don't what? I've got the Enterprise's best interests at heart."

"How do you know I don't?"

"I can only go on my guts, and my guts say not to let you do it."

"Then you don't trust me." That hurt. He'd had her, completely. He wanted her completely. And still he didn't trust that she knew what she was doing. That's because he was stupid. As smart and powerful as he now was, she was still completely alone in the universe.

He didn't answer her claim. He just gave her a look. Don't make it about this. She gave his look right back. She was daring him to touch the transmitter. He did. And as soon as he did, she sent him to his back with a bolt of light from her hands.

Ow. She should get out of the water if she was going to do this. The conduction from the water shocked badly. As she left the lake she could see steam rising from her body. Leonard coughed and looked up at her. He was afraid. Good.

"Uhura."

"You don't think we're on a first name basis, after last night?"

"Nyota, darling, dearest, sweetheart, whatever you want, with a cherry on top, please don't do this. Give it a day or two. Feel it out." He pointed at his head. "It's a trick. This power, these brains, they're an illusion. You think you can do anything but they're playing you."

Uhura laughed. "No. They're playing you. I can do anything. "

He got to his feet and went again for the transmitter. This time the light didn't come from her hands. It came from her eyes. He was on his back again, yelping in pain. He had red marks, burns from her attacks, blossoming across his white skin.

"STOP," she said.

He stared at her eyes. "How'd you do that? Can I do that?"

She blinked a few times. She felt a sharp stab of pain, of exhaustion. She put a hand to her head. "I don't- I-"

And then she felt his power. The lightning from his eyes shot down her spine and made her legs and arms numb. She fell, but wouldn't let herself stay down. She propped herself up on one arm and pushed back up to standing.

"Whew," Leonard said, rolling his eyes around. "That's a weird-"

She attacked again, this time with both hands and eyes. He struggled towards her, eyes closed firmly. He grabbed a hold of her leg. She tried to shake him but she couldn't. Her lightning sputtered out, like she'd run out of ammo.

"It's finite," he said, using Uhura to pull himself up. He faced her, looking her in the eyes. "The energy is finite. I can feel it. Can you? I think it just replaces itself too quickly for us to drain it entirely." He laughed. His white teeth shone in the sunlight. This time, his smile was a threat. He sent his light straight from his eyes into hers.

He leaned forward on her, grabbing her and holding her close. She struggled but his weight was just too much. They both fell back and rolled- down through the brush and into the lake, energy still connecting them in a beam.

Leonard was right. She could feel it. The water was coursing the energy through them, sapping it from them and burning them with it. They both screamed in pain. Uhura blacked out.

She came to. It was dark outside- or as dark as it could be with the light of the moons. She wasn't in the water. There was no water. It was like there had never been water. There was no grass. No trees. No lake. She could see nothing but dust and scrub in all directions. Her brain felt the same way. There were no growing, shifting thoughts like there had been before. She felt- cloudy.

Leonard was next to her. She checked his pulse. He was alive. They were both still naked. Leonard was badly burned. His skin shined, raw, bruised, and with dark, scary circles around his eyes. Uhura looked down at herself to discover the same.

They needed help.

She tried to create some more water. Her brain struggled. It didn't want to shift the atoms around for her. She opened one of Leonard's eyes with her thumb and index finger. The silver was gone and his eyes were green again. She saw the transmitter and ran to it. In the reflection of the metal she saw her eyes had gone brown again too… mostly. She focused, using all her energy. The transmitter lifted off the ground and moved over a few inches before dropping.

She sat down to catch her breath. Just that tiny movement had been exhausting. He had done it. He'd gotten rid of their power. She grabbed a handful of dirt and threw it at him. She hoped it hurt. He came around at that.

He inspected himself and then looked over at her. She felt ashamed. She was naked, and now crying, and she couldn't do anything anymore. All she was- was stuck here. With him.

Leonard sat up, with difficulty, and came over to her. He sat next to her and let his shoulder brush hers. She moved away.

"You've killed us."

"I couldn't let you kill them."

"Fuck you. You said you cared about me."

"Why can't I care about all of us?"

Uhura didn't have an answer. All she could do was cry. She rolled herself into a ball, hiding her exposure. It hurt her burns to do it, but at the moment, she was embracing the misery. Leonard approached again and enveloped her. He didn't say anything. That kind of helped.

Kirk tapped his foot impatiently, sitting in his chair on the bridge.

They were travelling Warp 2. They should have been travelling at Warp 5, but hell no, Kirk wasn't going to do that. He was- against his will- moving away from Bones and Uhura, but he was going to do it as slowly as he could.

It had been two days since he'd come to and they were gone. The further they got, the worse Kirk's mood became. He hadn't been eating or sleeping. He'd let the Alpha crew get their rest the past two nights but he stayed in the chair. He'd been waiting for word from Starfleet, but nothing had come. Still. It was completely unacceptable. Unprofessional. This was clearly a top priority problem. Both Uhura and Bones were heroes. Starfleet, hell, the Federation as a whole was underestimating the gravity of this.

As Kirk inwardly boiled, the rest of the crew was completely zoned out. Only Spock seemed unfazed by the lack of activity. He continued to type out his reports and scan the space around them as if their mission had been unchanged. The only indicator that he felt anything about it was that he hadn't left Kirk's side since he had woke up after the fight.

Uhura's chair had been taken by some other Ensign who knew a bunch of esoteric, whatever languages. Kirk knew he was supposed to respect and treat the new guy the same way he treated Uhura, but it was just not the same. He liked his crew. His friends. Not some random officers.

And then the Ensign spoke. "Incoming call from Starfl-"

"Put them on," Kirk interrupted. Finally.

Some Admiral he didn't know was on his screen. "Captain Kirk. In response to your first officer's reports, we are saddened by this unfortunate turn of events in your mission-"

"Saddened? I'd say it's something to be more panicked about, wouldn't you, Spock?"

He looked over his shoulder. Spock raised an eyebrow and shifted his focus to the Admiral. She cleared her throat.

"Captain, I understand your feelings of friendship towards Lieutenant Uhura and Chief Medical Officer McCoy. However, your current mission is of greater importance-"

"Of greater importance than what? Their lives? Their jobs as part of this mission?"

"If you continue to interrupt my message I will be forced to discipline you and your crew and to make a mark on your record. May I proceed, Captain Kirk?"

Kirk crossed his arms and got up. He couldn't look at her in the face. He looked across the bridge instead, pretending to listen instead of what he was really doing- fantasizing about killing her with his own hands. He felt Khan bristle inside and tried to control himself.

"You may proceed, Admiral."

"Thank you. Captain, you are to put this event behind you entirely, and to continue with 100% devotion to your current mission. Starfleet will assign a science team to research the effects of this energy field. If a solution is reached within an adequate timeframe, we will send a team to retrieve the Doctor and the Lieutenant. If not, we must accept that they be considered casualties. You knew the possibilities when you accepted this mission, Captain Kirk. Now you must continue to do your job. If you don't, we will find someone else aboard who can- and you will be put in the brig and tried for mutiny."

"How can I be tried for mutiny?! I'M THE CAPTAIN!"

But she'd already disconnected. The rest of the bridge crew stared at him, half terrified, half pissed off.

"SULU."

"Go. I've got it. I'll put us back on warp 5."

"FINE. SPOCK."

Spock followed him into the turbolift.

Spock followed Jim into his quarters. Jim closed and locked the door behind them. He punched the wall. Spock surmised this action was, like his raised voice, a reaction to the Admiral's orders.

"Jim, I apologize on behalf of the Admiral. However, the orders are-"

"If you say logical I'm going to break your nose again."

"As stimulating as I find our spars, I do not think that would be the most productive solution."

"Yeah? What would be? Going on our merry way and leaving them to die? Our friends? My best friend? Your girlfriend?"

"I am monogamous, Jim."

"They're going to die. No one's going to 'retrieve' them. They got their data. They'll spend millions on research and leave Bones and Uhura to rot. They can't find a fucking beagle, how are they going to figure out how to get those two back? Fucking Federation bureaucracy. They're idiots. Fools."

Jim smashed his hand into the wall again. He tried to repeat his action but Spock put his hand in the path of Jim's and caught it, holding it back.

"To what end does this declaration bring us?"

"You mean what good does it do to fight it? Do I have any better ideas?" He pulled his fist out of Spock's hand.

"Affirmative."

"I do. I say fuck this Admiral. Let's go back, send a landing team down, sedate them, and bring them back. Then we can keep them under until we find a solution to the problem. "

Spock could think of many issues with this line of reasoning. He hoped that Jim would offer an illogical and inspired idea as he often did; one that Spock had not entertained with his deductive reasoning. This time it was simply an emotional and weak idea. It stemmed more from Jim's desperation than from the excitement and sense of adventure that often fueled his flawless (and reckless) plans.

Deep inside, Spock felt a twinge of emotion. It was simultaneously sad and affectionate. He attempted to, as the Doctor would say, 'sugarcoat' his refutation of Jim's idea.

"When we left the planet, Doctor McCoy was capable of controlling the bridge and the people on it from his position on the planet. If that is still the case- and there is no reason to believe that it has changed- then there is no possibility of arriving within their space without their knowledge and control over us."

"There's gotta be some way we can cloak ourselves from them."

"Even if there were- suppose it takes years to find a solution to the effects of the energy. What life would they experience if they were to spend that time unconscious in the medical bay. Right now they are conscious and alive, by my estimation of their survival probabilities. Their quality of life would be higher staying on the planet. Additionally, with their heightened intelligence, they may find a solution before we would."

"That doesn't mean they'd want to use it." Jim went to the other side of the room and stood, resting his forehead against the wall. He looked- resigned. "I get what you mean though. That would be cruel. I'd rather have superpowers and be stuck in one place than- asleep somewhere, being prodded, I guess."

Jim turned around to face Spock. He made a noise, somewhere between a sigh and a growl. He did not move from that spot. He looked indecisive and helpless. Spock crossed to him and decided to attempt a human gesture of encouragement and support. He wrapped his arms around Jim's torso and set his cheek against Jim's cheek.

This was a hug. Jim reciprocated the action, applying a great amount of pressure. Spock had not realized that this gesture could be not only a friendly one but also an arousing one. He returned an added pressure to the embrace. Green blood pumped through him at his hips and into his cheeks. He had a strange desire to remain in this state for the forseeable future- his Jim protected and in contact with him.

But Jim extracted his arms and face from Spock. He looked into Spock's eyes. His irises were a shallow blue. Spock couldn't see into them. He wanted to crack through the frozen layer on top to get to the emotion that remained so close to the rest of his skin. Jim placed one hand on each of Spock's cheeks. His thumbs brushed across the areas where Spock's blood had rushed.

Jim's eyes looked down from Spock's eyes- to his lips. If Spock was correct, Jim was considering sharing another human gesture with him. Spock looked at Jim's lips. He considered the way Jim often pouted, or the way he breathed, or the way he often moistened his lips with his tongue. Spock found himself open to trying this with his Captain. He had found kisses with Nyota to be pleasant as well, but he anticipated that this would be different.

Jim moved closer to him. His lips parted. Spock could feel the heat of his breath against his own mouth.

There was a hail. Their mouths remained 1.71 inches apart.

"Captain-" It was Lieutenant Sulu. "You'll never guess what we ran into."

Kirk bit his lip and stepped back, out of Spock's physical proximity. "Sorry. That was- sorry. I just wanted to say thank you."

"You are welcome Captain." Spock answered, following Jim back to the bridge, yet again.

#kirk #spock #uhura #Nyota Uhura #bones #leonard mccoy #star trek #SPACE HUSBANDS #shipping

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verdigrisprowl · 7 years

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Operation: SPRINGALINGADING. Part Three.

The team assembles for a Springer heist. They run through the details of the plan one more time, settle some final details, and at last, Prowl is sent ahead of the others to scout out Debris.

From here on out, none of these chat logs will be canon until we’ve finished. Until then, all our blogs are still pre-Springer Quest.

ItsyBitsySpyers 6:09 pm Soundwave stands at the entrance to the workroom and its sprawling station, trying to convince himself that letting Tarantulas see it won't be a fatal mistake. It's not as dangerous as showing them the one in his quarters, but still. This room and its contents run the majority of Soundwave's business - Dancitron and otherwise.

At least Zori is big and deadly enough he should pose a threat to anyone trying to tamper with things while Soundwave is gone.

He deactivates... most of the security measures protecting the room from strangers and pings his three co-conspirators. Time to go. Here are the coordinates. Get your afts in here. AND DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING. Tarantulas 6:18 pm Tarantulas isn't so sneaky he could tamper with Soundwave's things without Zori seeing, no, so they're safe on that front. Besides, Tarantulas is far more preoccupied with the mission at hand, considering who they're about to revive.

This time he's actually on time for the event, arriving pretty much instantaneously once the summons is sent out. And yes, he bridges inside the room instead of outside the door this time, thank goodness.

A quick extra ping to Prowl to let him know he's brought the holo pack - he's free to project whenever he's ready. Prowl 6:18 pm He's been waiting for this call.

And doing little BUT waiting for this call. He's spent the last several days since their final meeting distracting himself by reading about a little shipwreck from Earth, but in his mind part of him has always been on standby, waiting for the call.

He pings his acknowledgment to Soundwave as soon as he gets the comm, but waits until he receives notice from Tarantulas that he's arrived. And then patches into Tarantulas's holomatter projector. Tarantulas 6:19 pm Tarantulas is nervous and tense enough that he'll let the others initiate greetings if they so choose. Otherwise he's just going to start pacing. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:20 pm No greetings from Soundwave aside from a pair of distracted nods. Just fiddling with the last of some small cylinders before stuffing them all into his subspace. Prowl 6:21 pm No greetings from Prowl today. Too wound up to remember social etiquette. The anxiety/anticipation feels like static in his system. Whirl 6:21 pm It's not long before Whirl arrives. His bridge is hovering as close to the top of the room that it can, and he slides out of the blue vortex with as much caution as he can muster. As a helicopter.

As soon as the bridge is gone, he pivots on the spot and carefully lowers. From a technical standpoint, it's impressive flying, but in every other respect it looks pretty silly. As soon as he has space he transforms, landing neatly and casting a bright optic around the room. He seems much more animated than he was at the last meeting. "Let's do this shit." Prowl 6:23 pm A sharp nod, and a ping to Soundwave: visual data for him to patched into one of the screens, so those back at Dancitron can keep up with his progress. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:26 pm Soundwave picks the largest center screen and quickly gets the feed running - and stops for a second (but only a second) to admire the mathematical data spilling all over the place. Good thing he's recording this for later study. It'll let him see these things in more detail. For now, it'll let everyone else see them too. [[We are all ready?]] Tarantulas 6:27 pm Tarantulas snickers at Whirl's irreverent greeting, then rolls his shoulders. "Let's. A quick overview of the plans might not be amiss though." Whirl 6:29 pm Whirl's going to tilt his head and stare at the visual feed. He's quietly, but genuinely impressed. Prowl 6:30 pm Look at all these people who appreciate the fact that formulas, graphs, and probabilities spill all over his HUD. Tarantulas 6:30 pm Tarantulas is ALWAYS impressed by Prowl. Get with the program, people. Prowl 6:33 pm He glances at the screen long enough to confirm it's working—and consequently gets to see his HUD within his HUD within his HUD within his—before turning sharply away. "Right." He's usually the one in charge, he supposes he's the one that's going to explain the plan. ItsyBitsySpyers 6:33 pm Briefly distracted by the sudden chaining of HUDs? Oh yes. But paying attention now. Prowl 6:36 pm "Phase one is on Debris. Tarantulas is bridging me in first to scout out the location and the defenses, to neutralize Roadbuster, and to deploy the hologram behind which everyone else will bridge in to Springer's room." Prowl 6:37 pm "My progress will be monitored here," he gestures at the screen without looking at it, "and Whirl will update me on anything he recognizes from Debris or anything that's changed that I should look out for." Prowl 6:39 pm "Once everyone has bridged in, Soundwave will begin feeding Springer's life support systems and monitors false data to hide the fact that he's disappeared, and Tarantulas and Frenzy will work to unhook him as quickly as possible, while Whirl..." Prowl looks at Whirl for a moment, flummoxed, then finally finishes, "... monitors our progress." Whirl 6:41 pm "I can help with unhooking him, too." Prowl 6:43 pm Prowl stops on the verge of saying something, and looks at Whirl, considering the proposition. The last time Whirl was given any sort of control over Springer's static form, he tried to kill him. What were the odds he was going to again?

... Low enough. "Fine. All the faster." ItsyBitsySpyers 6:44 pm Good. The less time and energy spent safely holding the room down, the more he'll have for other things. Prowl 6:44 pm "Chimera will open a bridge for us to the abandoned Decepticon lab, we carry Springer through, and that begins phase two." Prowl 6:48 pm "Now that he's disconnected from his life support, from here on out, until the zero point is fixed, Springer's spark will be slowly shrinking. How fast, we won't know until we see it, but most likely not enough to be a threat. Plus, there MIGHT be functional life support equipment in the lab—I'll be looking for it once we arrive—but we can't count on the possibility. Our best bet will be to work as quickly as possible." Whirl 6:49 pm He simply nods, silently. Tarantulas 6:49 pm "I've got that covered," Tarantulas adds. Don't you worry about the science, Prowl. Prowl 6:52 pm Good. A nod. "Tarantulas will be performing the procedure to locate and seal his zero point. Frenzy, Whirl, and I will be on standby to help in whatever way Tarantulas deems necessary." That probably meant Frenzy might be ACTUALLY helping while Prowl and Whirl were sent to grab tools. "Soundwave will be patched into the base's security to ensure that no Decepticons discover their locked wing has been breached and come to investigate—but since the wing IS locked and we won't need to go through any doors, the probability that they'll discover us is 1.4%." ItsyBitsySpyers 6:55 pm Chimera slinks in as their feline self while Prowl talks. They hop up onto the chair to begin making their calculations, stopping their typing only to get an affectionate scratch under the chin from Soundwave. Prowl 6:55 pm "Once his zero point has been sealed, Tarantulas will do a quick checkup to ensure that everything is functional, and then we move on to phase three: invincibility." Prowl 6:57 pm "First, Tarantulas will augment the output of Springer's spark, so that it can handle the strain of the process. I don't have the slightest comprehension of how he's going to do that. And then—from what I can understand—we remove his limbs, kibble, and outer armor, stick him in a tub, and shower him with ununtrium." He looks at Tarantulas. "Is that about right?" Tarantulas 6:58 pm Tarantulas squints his visor in an unreadable expression. "Close enough, hyeh." Whirl 6:58 pm "What d'you mean by that, exactly? What might change, there?" Tarantulas 6:59 pm "There's propex involved, among other things. Just details and semantics, that's all." Whirl 7:01 pm Whirl stares at him for a moment longer, and then just nods slowly, flicking his optic back to Prowl. Prowl 7:03 pm Well, if everyone's satisfied. "Then we remove him, examine him, and reassemble him. Soundwave will wake him up briefly enough to ensure that everything's all right while we—" hide like the cowards we are— "conceal ourselves. Once we've ensured his safety, we sedate him, and bridge him to a secure bunker on Hydrus 5 where the Wreckers can retrieve him." "Questions?" ItsyBitsySpyers 7:03 pm [[None.]] Tarantulas 7:04 pm Not the ending Tarantulas wants, but he can't argue with it at this point. He shakes his helm no. Whirl 7:04 pm Whirl looks down at the floor while he spends a moment gathering his thoughts. "So... what's our backup plan if we do get caught? Do we fight, or do we run? CAN we even run, if we're in the middle of all that?" Tarantulas 7:06 pm "Medically, it depends on where we are in the process of operations. It's - possible, though." Prowl 7:06 pm "It depends where we are in the process. There will be very few moments—most of them only a few seconds long—where Springer will be in any danger if we have to immediately drop what we're doing and relocate. Since we can bridge and the Wreckers and Decepticons can't, relocating is the safest bet. Prowl 7:07 pm "Most dangerous, I expect, will be applying the ununtrium, since it has to be done all at once and can't be interrupted without ruining the end result; but if the Decepticons have shown no signs of detecting us by then, they're unlikely to suddenly start. And if they HAVE begun to suspect that they have intruders, Soundwave will have noticed and alerted us before we get that far." Tarantulas 7:08 pm A nod. That's the only part Tarantulas would be worried about. Prowl 7:08 pm Ah, good. Prowl had been about to ask if Tarantulas agreed with his analysis; apparently so. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:09 pm Small nod. He will do his best to ensure that they need neither fight nor run. Failure is not something to which he is accustomed, and fighting risks lives and leaves evidence. [[If there is a problem, the three of you are to leave first.]] Whirl 7:09 pm He nods slowly. "So, odds of us having to make a stand are very, very low. In the hilariously unlikely event we DO have to fight, I can hold them off. " Prowl 7:09 pm "You mean Springer, Tarantulas, and Whirl." Surely Prowl wasn't included in the three. Prowl was fake. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:10 pm [[The four of you, then. You will deactivate your avatar.]] [[And so noted, Whirl.]] Prowl 7:10 pm "Negative. We gain nothing by having me leave and we lose any help I can offer. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:11 pm [[Then be something that is not you. He knows Bonecrusher added a Predacon.]] Or something like one. Whirl 7:11 pm "I'll go second-last, if it comes to it. With Prowl being the last one. I'll be most useful fighting every second I can fight." Tarantulas 7:12 pm "Mm. Then I'll prioritize Springer." Prowl 7:12 pm He frowns. "I'd be useless in a fight as a Predacon. I'll make my avatar camouflage with the background—without my paint colors, I look identical to a thousand other mechs with my frame." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:13 pm [[Very well.]] Soundwave nods to Tarantulas and Whirl. Their remarks are also noted. Tarantulas 7:13 pm "...We're to bridge to Hydrus 5 in the case of an emergency, I'm assuming?" Prowl 7:15 pm "I recommend against it—that would put us in range of panicking Wreckers while they're wondering who took their leader. I thought we'd come back here. If not, then one of your labs—or I could provide one of a myriad abandoned Autobot bases." Whirl 7:16 pm "As long as you ping me coordinates before you vanish, I can bridge on the fly." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:16 pm [[Hold.]] Shakes his helm no. [[If we must return here, we do not return to Dancitron itself. We will be harder to find in New Praxus.]] Prowl 7:17 pm "You have a secure place we can go in New Praxus?" ItsyBitsySpyers 7:17 pm Huffing laughter.

[[He has many secure places on this planet. Yes.]] Prowl 7:18 pm "Risk of nearby mechs getting caught in the crossfire if we bridge there?" ItsyBitsySpyers 7:21 pm [[If they follow us through, none, unless the fighting spills into the street. If they simply follow to the settlement itself and do not know where we are hiding, little to none expected. New Praxus' population is primarily Autobot, and there are several skilled enforcers and Wreckers present - Prowl and Whirl's alternates included. A rampage would not last long.]] Whirl 7:21 pm He does perk up curiously at the mention of his alternate, but doesn't interrupt. Prowl 7:22 pm "... Your war is under an ongoing ceasefire, is it not? A sudden unexplained assault by Decepticon forces could jeopardize your peace." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:22 pm [[Ah. Decepticon forces. He thought you were referring to the Wreckers.]] [[In that case, to the Pits. The Predacons will not take kindly to intruders.]] Prowl 7:23 pm "We're at risk of attack by both the Wreckers AND the Decepticons." Tarantulas 7:23 pm Tarantulas is getting a little impatient. "If it's going to be this much of a fuss, I'd really recommend my old lab on Cybertron." Prowl 7:23 pm "... To the Predacons, won't WE be intruders?" ItsyBitsySpyers 7:24 pm [[WE will be below and have a guide. THEY will not. But, if it pleases you more, Tarantulas' lab will do.]] Tarantulas 7:25 pm A pause. "....And if it comes down to it, I'll accept moving to the Tor." Whirl 7:25 pm "What's the Tor?" Prowl 7:26 pm Well, if they were going to be below, why would the Decepticons not also be below instead of on the Predacons' level? "The Decepticons and Wreckers lack the ability to bridge after us, much less to figure out where our bridges went. The only risk, slight as it is, is of them FOLLOWING us through the bridge—which would put them in the exact same location as us, not merely the general vicinity." Tarantulas 7:26 pm "The Tor is my *actual* lab." That's all Whirl needs to know. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:26 pm That was why he mentioned himself as guide. He knows how to get others to the surface without going up there or being seen himself. But, Tarantulas' idea seems to be more suitable, so he waves a hand. Prowl 7:26 pm "Under these circumstances, bridging into a populated zone and hoping they lose track of us isn't a viable strategy." Whirl 7:28 pm For now, he doesn't challenge the explanation. Tarantulas 7:29 pm "Just - the lab ruins, then," Tarantulas insists. "I couldn't care less about the location if something happens." Prowl 7:29 pm ... That stings a little to hear. Ignore it. Prowl nods. "Any other questions?" Tarantulas 7:30 pm It's only a half-truth, if that helps anything, Prowl. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:30 pm [[None.]] Whirl 7:30 pm Once again, Whirl takes a moment to think things over. "I think I'm good," he finally declares. Prowl 7:31 pm Nod. "Then let's begin." Tarantulas 7:32 pm A hum. "...Soundwave, would you like to be in charge of opening a secure collective commlink for the duration of the operation?" "In case of - well. Plenty of situations, really." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:34 pm [[Done.]] Tarantulas 7:34 pm "Much appreciated." Whirl 7:35 pm "All right. We've got a plan and a party line." Whirl steps up to the display showing Prowl's video feed and begins to set his claws down on the console, but thinks the better of it. "You ready, Prowl?" Prowl 7:35 pm "Once I get the holomatter projector and the sedative." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:36 pm Frenzy's arm unfolds and pokes out of Soundwave's arm to pass it over. It's kind of weird-looking. Just roll with it. Whirl 7:36 pm A simple nod. Whirl returns his bright optic to the screen, waiting. He's very evidently eager to begin. Tarantulas 7:37 pm As soon as Prowl's got the sedative, Tarantulas is offering the tiny backpack-esque holomatter projector that Prowl's currently using. Prowl 7:38 pm ... Now Prowl wonders if the Constructicons can do that. He takes the sedative and sets it into his right thigh holster. Then the projector in his left. "Ready." Tarantulas 7:40 pm Nervously Tarantulas takes mental inventory of his subspace and equipment, but there's really not much he can to do be any more ready at this point. "Similarly prepared." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:41 pm It's been far too long since he had the chance to amuse himself in this manner. A final bit of humor before the action begins, then.

[[Prowl, Tarantulas, Whirl, eject. Commence Operation: Spring Springer.]] Whirl 7:42 pm You get a soft, simulated snort in return. Prowl 7:42 pm And a blank stare. Please hold while he boots up his humor subroutines. Tarantulas 7:43 pm Tarantulas is torn between being offended and producing a snort just like Whirl's, so he simply shakes his helm and rubs his upper optics. Prowl 7:44 pm Wait for it... ItsyBitsySpyers 7:44 pm Soundwave tilts his helm. Did he break Prowl? Prowl 7:44 pm "... Pff." Tarantulas 7:45 pm OK, that gets a snicker from Tarantulas. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:45 pm There it is. Good. A forward motion with his hand now. Get on your way before it gets much later. Tarantulas 7:46 pm "Very well. A temporary moratorium on puns for the duration of the operation though, if you will." ItsyBitsySpyers 7:46 pm Through Soundwave's speakers: //No promises, legs.// Whirl 7:46 pm "I'm going to actively go out of my way to make 'em, now." Tarantulas gets a cheeky glance before Whirl goes back to staring at the screen. Prowl 7:47 pm "No puns in moments where the ambiguity in speech could potentially cause a moment of confusion capable of distracting or endangering anyone." He shrinks his avatar as far as it can go without crushing the sedative dispenser in his holster. Tarantulas 7:47 pm "Yes, that." Tarantulas squints off in Whirl's direction before moving on. Whirl 7:48 pm "Of course." Tarantulas 7:49 pm Alright, here comes the first bridge of the operation, perfectly Prowl-sized and ready for him to trot on through. The location on the other side: Debris. Prowl 7:50 pm "And if anyone DOES make an inappropriately timed joke," Prowl threatens, "he will be severely pun-ished." And he trots through the bridge before he can receive his just retaliation. ItsyBitsySpyers 7:50 pm Rumble squawks a loud HA at Prowl's back. Tarantulas 7:50 pm "Ghh!" Tarantulas fluffs up briefly. Prowl, how could you betray him so? Whirl 7:52 pm You get one last snort from Whirl. Well done, Prowl.

#chat #slenderwave #chronosmith #araneamechanica #operation springer

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davidcarner · 6 years

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Chuck and Sarah vs The 2nd Grade Ch 2, The New Job

A/N: I swear…you guys…thank you. You just freaking humble me some days. So this is all of this that is written, and I promised I'd finish a few things before I pick it back up. This give you the majority of the backstory. This may be the last thing I post until after Thanksgiving. Dad is still in the hospital recovering and frankly I'm about beat. But enough about me, I give you Chuck and Sarah vs The 2nd Grade Ch 2, New Job

Disclaimer: I don't own Chuck,

Sarah walked into her apartment and shut the door behind her. There was no pain today in her leg, just soreness and stiffness. Ninety-five percent of the people who met her couldn't tell anything was wrong with her. The problem was CIA medical. They wouldn't clear her for field work. She could have stayed, been an analyst, taught, station chief was mentioned, but if she couldn't be in the field she thought maybe she could do something different. She thought about the…what had Bryce called the thing he read, a trade paper back? Anyway the book was funnily enough called Detective, but it had Batman, which she didn't understand. What she did understand was a character with a leg injury starting his own detective agency. She had thought about it, but decided it sounded too much like a bad movie. Her life was already too much like a bad movie no one would believe. A knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts.

She walked over to the door, opened it, saw who it was, slammed it, and walked away. A few seconds later, the door opened and Carina walked in.

"I don't know if that was necessary."

Sarah continued on toward the kitchen, rolling her eyes where her friend couldn't see them. "Don't care."

"Blondie, I need your help."

Sarah spun, but winced when she planted her leg. "I CAN'T! Get it through your skull Carina, Bryce screwed me over, got me hurt, and I. Can't. Help!"

Carina studied her. "They think you're helping him."

"WHAT!?"

"You know the Bartowski kid in your class? Child of Charles Bartowski and Jill Roberts, both of them went to college with Bryce." Sarah's eyes were wide. She walked over to a stool at her bar and sat down. Carina came further inside. "Talk to me," she said softly.

"Just tell me all of it," Sarah choked out.

"Drink?"

"Please." Carina poured Sarah one, and she slammed it back. "Tell me," she said again.

"Chuck was Bryce's roommate in college. From all accounts, Bryce introduced the two of them, Jill and Chuck, to each other. Jill is running Roberts Pharmaceuticals and thought to be behind some very bad things."

Sarah nodded. "Chuck is a bad guy."

Carina shrugged. "No idea, but he's Bryce's friend, Jill's baby daddy…plus, get this, Roan Montgomery is your new principal at the school."

Sarah gave her a look. She had heard earlier today there was new principal, but why in the hell would Carina care? "Yeah I've heard," Sarah said. "Wait, why does that matter." Carina gave her a look. Sarah started thinking. She knew the name, in fact, she had a class with him at the farm years ago. "You don't mean THE Roan Montgomery?" Carina nodded. "Wow!"

"Your job, if you chose to accept it, get close to Chuck and try to get something out of him about Jill. I'm going to hit him from the government security side. You should try and become friendly. You've still got one good leg and you know that nerd would fall over backwards for you."

Sarah stared at her. "I don't work that way."

"God, Walker, have you gotten laid since Bryce?" Sarah glared at her. "You don't have to make his dreams come true, just do what you know to do. Be sweet to him. Give him the ditsy blonde routine that only you can pull off."

"Amy was better at that than I was," she groused

Carina looked at her. "Damn, you are throwing one pity party. Okay, I'm out." Carina started to leave. "Be a shame to see that kid get put in foster care, especially if he's innocent."

Damn it, Carina. She huffed. "Wait." Carina turned, smirking. "I don't want his kid getting hurt, she's an innocent in all of this. She didn't do anything wrong. She doesn't deserve that."

"Fair," Carina agreed. "No sense getting her involved, she has nothing to do with this."

Sarah started thinking like a spy, something she hadn't actively done in a while. Why go this route? Why not…."Why don't you just seduce him?" Carina looked away trying to think of an excuse. "Wait, he turned you down?" Sarah had new respect for guy. Not that he deserved any respect doing his daughter the way he did.

"That's not important," Carina replied hurriedly. "Listen, Roan has hired him at the school as the computer teacher. Will you help us?" Sarah thought for a second and nodded. "I'll see if we can't get you paid out of this." She shrugged. "Come on, Blondie, this will be fun."

"He turned you down?" Carina rolled her eyes and walked toward the door, Sarah swinging the seat around to watch her. "Carina."

Carina stopped at the door and huffed. "Yes, Blondie, he turned me down, he was too worried about some dumb thing about having to see a teacher. It was the kid, you know they throw off my game." With that, she was gone. Sarah sat there and thought about what Carina said.

"So he blew off a date and went to make money," she said softly. She got up, went over to her computer, and logged into her old account. Maybe one day she'd get around to telling Director King it was still active. How was she to know he knew and was monitoring it in DC?

-ooooo-

Casey was in his robe, as usual, making breakfast. "How's the simulation coming?"

"I found two more buggy lines of code last night," Chuck replied yawning. "I appreciate the NSA connection, Casey, but it would be nice if they paid me a little more so I wouldn't have to have two jobs."

Casey eyed the eggs and grunted. "I've tried to talk to Beckman, over medium?"

"Please, and don't worry about it Casey, I can't ask for anything more than you've done." Chuck grabbed a plate. "I'm gonna have to go to the grocery store tonight."

"Can you please buy some real milk?"

Chuck laughed. "You know what the doctor said, Sam's not lactose intolerant."

Casey shook his head in disgust. "She's lactose unhappy, but who drinks a milk made of nuts? This isn't why I served my country, for you to have nut milk." Chuck listened to Casey ramble on. This was one of his rants he went off on every week or so.

Chuck's parents had been members of the CIA, the infamous Orion and Frost. During an operation when Ellie and Chuck were younger, the Bartowskis rescued Casey who had been injured. They finished John's mission but lost their lives. When Casey returned to the states he quickly became a part of their lives. Once Sam was born, he was Uncle Casey regardless of the amount of grunts and growling that came out of him protesting otherwise.

Casey couldn't stand Jill. He thought she had done Chuck wrong, and there were no words for how he felt she had done Sam. Casey helped where he could with Chuck, but they both agreed they needed time apart sometimes….especially when Casey started talking about how his trigger finger still worked just fine and he still had good sniper skills.

Casey had been quiet for a bit. He had this look on his face that Chuck had seen more since Sam had been born. It was what Chuck called, "It's none of my business but your my family," face.

"Spit it out, Casey."

"Thought you should know, I ran a background check on Sam's teacher."

Chuck groaned. "I thought we talked about this."

Casey shrugged. "You talked."

Chuck gave Casey a flat look. "We agreed."

Casey shrugged. "No, you told me what you thought I should do, and I did what I wanted to."

Chuck rolled his eyes. Typical Casey. The man who claimed not to be part of the family, yet every time Chuck turned around there he was right in the middle of everything. "Find anything interesting?" Chuck figured Casey did or he wouldn't have brought it up.

"She's former CIA, the Ice Queen." Chuck gave him a look. Casey ran his finger across his throat. "Wetwork specialist."

Chuck gulped. "Do I need to worry about discipline at school?"

Casey shook his head. "She's not going to hurt a kid, Moron."

Oh, it was Moron today. Casey was feeling especially sentimental. "You know the terms of endearment can go any time. Any. Time."

Casey grunted. "Walker was good. Hell, she was one of the best."

Chuck thought for a second. "Was? What happened?"

Casey thought for a second. He didn't need the whole story, just enough. He wasn't sure about her, but if he told Chuck the whole truth, he might damn her before they knew everything. "She was injured in an op when her partner did something stupid. He's believed to be dead." Chuck nodded.

"That's terrible." Casey was silent. "I feel there is more."

"Some think he went rogue and really isn't dead. They think he's contacting Walker."

"Casey, you say I talk alot, but for someone who says nothing, you've told me a whole lot that feels like you're circling a point. What is it?"

Casey shrugged. He knew he shouldn't. He really shouldn't. Chuck asked, Chuck was a big boy, so Chuck could hear the truth. "Her partner's name was Bryce Larkin."

Chuck looked at Casey, blinked a few times, looked away, licked his lips, turned back to Casey, got the courage, and spoke. "You know I had a roommate at college named Bryce Larkin."

"No shit," Casey replied. Chuck stared at him. Maybe the nerd really was a moron…"Okay, time to draw you a picture. Your former roommate is CIA."

Chuck closed his eyes. This was just ducky. "Anything else." There was silence and Chuck opened his eyes. The look on Casey's face told him all he needed to know. "Oh come on!"

"The principal at the school," Casey began.

Chuck slumped forward. Was the world actively plotting against him? "You mean the one that hired me?"

Casey nodded. "Roan Montgomery, seduction training specialist, CIA."

"Really? It's a shame you never had to take him." Casey looked away, uncomfortable. "Oh. Oh, my. Casey, whatever happened?"

Chuck was grinning like an idiot. Casey snarled at him. "None of your damn business is what happened."

Chuck laughed and thought for a second. "Say, Casey, you wouldn't happen to know a spy, who's very modelesque, a redhead and seemingly just oozes …uh."

"Carina Miller?" Casey asked in a choked voice. Chuck nodded. "Chuck me!"

-ooooo-

Chuck was in his computer lab when he heard a knock on the door. He turned and saw it was the same teacher from the other day that hadn't given him her name and turned out to be his daughter's teacher. The former spy, and who knows what now, besides teacher, Sarah Walker. "Can I help you?" He wasn't rude but he was a bit cool.

Sarah cursed herself inwardly. She had made things much harder on herself with what she had done to him the other night. She now had to smooth things over, and she really didn't want to smooth things over.

"Mr. Bartowski," she began.

"I told you it was Chuck," he replied. "I never did catch your name. Do you do that often, not tell parents who you are? Is it to figure out their problem solving skills? Because that's a very interesting way to engage parents." She could tell why he was irritated, however there was humor in his voice and on his face.

Sarah decided right then and there if this was going to work, she had to dial back her irritation with him. She put on a face of sincerity as she apologized. "I'm sorry. I had an appointment I had to keep and I knew if I told you my name I would be late."

Chuck nodded. "I was past the scheduled time of our meeting," he admitted. "I knew I shouldn't have gone in to the Buy More that morning." He huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "Raising a child on your own, you have to make some judgment calls, and obviously I made the wrong one."

Oh, he was charming. Was he sincere? She thought he was but she had thought Bryce was as well, as was her father. No….that wasn't true. She had thought her dad was her dad.

It was time to being, and in this case, she was going to kill two birds with one stone. "So, I'm supposed to use this calendar thingy to reserve some time, but I have no idea how to do it. I can barely make Friendster work half the time."

Chuck blinked a few times. Had she broken him? Had she switched topics too abruptly?

"Friendster?" The look on his face…he was laughing at her. She set her jaw. "I'm sorry, I just didn't know anyone still…you know what, it's not for me to judge. Perhaps that's all anyone ever taught you." She nodded her head haughtily. "I would be glad to teach you."

"Teach me what?" The look on her face it was almost like a challenge. The way she held her head, the determination in her face. God, she was amazing. Not physically, she was, but there was something inside of her, that was just special, unique, and Chuck had to get to know her better. He ached to know her, everything about her, and then he remembered Casey and his warning. The last thing Chuck needed was an ex-CIA agent in his life with his daughter around. But, she did need to know stuff…for the children. He should think of the children. He really tried to make himself believe that.

"Whatever," Chuck replied. "Whatever I can do to help."

Roan reached over and clicked off the monitor. He had seen enough. It was obvious these two had a connection, an attraction, even if they didn't know it yet. That wasn't good. While he hated to get in the way of love, this was his career. He needed to think about himself. He was the agent best known for seduction, but that also meant he knew what things went wrong. Chuck Bartowski was a nerd, Sarah Walker was not. These two people just didn't run in the same circles, didn't exist in the same plane. Roan would "help" Chuck with Sarah. That was sure to drive the wedge between them he needed, and then when Chuck was low, Roan would use him to get to Jill and get his job back. That's exactly what he would do.

A/N: Think of the children!…Hope you liked it, reviews and PMs are always welcomed…Til next time!

#Chuck #Sarah #Charah #The 2nd Grade #fanfic #fanfiction

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megatechcrunch · 7 years

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Scale changes the problems of privacy, security, and honesty in fundamental ways.

For the past decade or more, the biggest story in the technology world has been scale: building systems that are larger, that can handle more customers, and can deliver more results. How do we analyze the habits of tens, then thousands, then millions or even billions of users? How do we give hordes of readers individualized ads that make them want to click?

As technologists, we've never been good at talking about ethics, and we’ve rarely talked about the consequences of our systems as they’ve grown. Since the start of the 21st century, we’ve acquired the ability to gather and (more important) store data at global scale; we’ve developed the computational power and machine learning techniques to analyze that data; and we’ve spawned adversaries of all creeds who are successfully abusing the systems we have created. This “perfect storm” makes a conversation about ethics both necessary and unavoidable. While the ethical problems we face are superficially the same as always (privacy, security, honesty), scale changes these problems in fundamental ways. We need to understand how these problems change. Just as we’ve learned how to build systems that scale, we need to learn how to think about ethical issues at scale.

Let's start with the well-known and well-reported story of the pregnant teenager who was outed to her parents by Target's targeted marketing. Her data trail showed that she was buying products consistent with being pregnant, so Target sent her coupon circulars advertising the baby products she would eventually need. Her parents wondered why their daughter was suddenly receiving coupons for disposable diapers and stretch-mark cream, and drew some conclusions.

Many of us find that chilling. Why? Nothing happened that couldn't have happened at any small town pharmacy. Any neighborhood pharmacist could notice that a girl had added some weight, and was looking at a different selection of products. The pharmacist could then draw some conclusions, and possibly make a call to her parents. The decision to call would depend on community values: in some cultures and communities, informing the parents would be the pharmacist's responsibility, while others would value the girl’s privacy. But that's not the question that's important here, and it's not why we find Target's action disturbing.

The Target case is chilling because it isn't a case about a single girl and a single pregnancy. It's about privacy at scale. It's a case about everyone who shops at any store larger than a neighborhood grocery. The analysis that led Target to send coupons for diapers is the same analysis they do to send coupons to you and me. Most of the time, another piece of junk mail goes into the trash, but that’s not always the case. If a non-smoker buys a pack of cigarettes, do their insurance rates go up? If an alcoholic buys a six-pack, who finds out? What can be gathered from our purchase histories and conveyed to others, and what are the consequences? And who is making decisions about how to use this data?

When nobody can presume that their actions are private, we're in a different ethical world. The actions of a human pharmacist aren't comparable to the behavior of systems that put everyone's privacy at risk. Our obsession with scale amplifies problems that might be innocent enough if they could be addressed individually. An individual's need for privacy may depend on context and personal choice; scale ignores both context and choice. Scale creates a different set of ethical problems—and it's a set of problems we haven't thought through.

There are several aspects of the Target case (and cases like it) that deserve thought. First, who is responsible? It is difficult, if not impossible, to talk about ethics without agents who are accountable for their decisions. A local pharmacist can make a decision, and can bear responsibility for that decision. In Target's case, though, the circular was sent by a piece of software that had no idea that it was engaging in problematic behavior. It was doing what it was supposed to do: analyzing buying patterns and sending coupons. The word “idea” itself is revealing: software doesn’t have “ideas,” but we instinctively feel the need to assign agency to something, some actor that makes an informed decision. Is the programmer who built the system accountable for how it is used? Is the data scientist who created the model? It’s unlikely that either the programmer or the data scientist have any idea what the system is actually doing in the real world, and certainly they have no control over how it is deployed. Is the "management" that ordered the system and specified its behavior responsible? That sounds more concrete, but scratch the surface and you’ll find a murky collective; one might as well say "the stockholders."

Second, exposing a pregnant teenage girl to her parents was clearly an "unforeseen consequence": nobody designed the system to do that. Programmers, analysts, managers, and even stockholders certainly need to think more about the consequences of their work; all too often, unforeseen consequences could have been foreseen. However, I can't be too hard on people for not imagining all possible consequences. The possible consequences of any action easily spin out to infinity, and expecting humans to anticipate them invites paralysis.

Third, collecting and using personal data isn't entirely negative: collecting medical data from millions of patients can lead to new treatments, or to earlier ways of detecting serious diseases. What if the teenager's buying patterns indicated that she was self-medicating for a serious medical condition, such as preeclampsia? Does that merit an automated intervention? There are good ways to use data at scale, and they can't be cleanly separated from the bad ways.

I don't want to presuppose any answer to these questions; ethics is ultimately about discussion and dialog, rather than any one person's opinion. I do want to suggest, though, that scale changes the issues. We need to start thinking about ethics at scale.

Here's another example: any decent thief can pick the lock on your house. We know how to think about that. But an attack against internet-enabled locks could potentially unlock all the locks, anywhere in the world, simultaneously. Is that somehow a different issue, and if so, how do we think about it? (While I was writing this, news came out of the first attack against Amazon's Key service.)

Building an ethical argument around the legal system is dubious, but that may give us a way in. I doubt that you could sue the lock manufacturer if someone picked the lock on your front door. That falls into the "shit happens" category. You could possibly sue if the lock was faulty, or if it had a particularly shoddy design. But almost any lock can be picked by someone with the right tools and skills. However, I can easily imagine a class action lawsuit against a lock manufacturer whose locks were "picked" en masse because of a software vulnerability. Anthem Blue Cross has agreed to pay millions of dollars to settle lawsuits over a data breach; people are lining up to sue Equifax. Would a lock manufacturer be any different?

As in the Target case, we see that agency is obscure; we don't know who's responsible. We're almost certainly dealing with unforeseen consequences, and on many levels. An attack against a smart lock could take advantage of vulnerabilities in the lock itself, the vendor's data center, the homeowner’s cell phone, the locking app, or even the cell phone provider. The failure could be the consequence of an incredibly subtle bug, a forgotten security update, or a default password. Whatever the cause, the failure is amplified to internet scale. While it's not clear who would be bear responsibility if the world's smart locks were hacked, it is clear that we need to start thinking about safety at a global scale, and that thought process is qualitatively different from thinking about individual locks.

A final example: "fake news" isn't a new thing. We've all known cranks who believe crazy stuff and waste your time telling you how they were abducted by aliens. We’ve smiled at the grocery store tabloids. What's scary now is fake news at scale: it's not one crank wasting one person's time, but one crank whose idea gets propagated to literally billions. Except that this news doesn’t come from a crank, but from a professional agent of a hostile government. And the "people" passing the news along aren't people; they're sock puppet identities, bots created purely for the purpose of propagating misinformation. And the scale at which this takes place transcends even the most powerful press.

As danah boyd said at her Strata NY keynote, this is no longer a simple social media issue; it's a security issue. What happens when you poison the data streams that feed the "artificial intelligences" that tell us what to read? I have an ethical commitment to free speech; but when free speech becomes a computer security issue, it's a different game. I can defend someone's right to propagate absurd news stories without approving their conduct. But how do we think about intentionally propagating deceptive speech at scale? I won't defend someone's right to log into my computer systems and modify data without my permission; should I defend someone’s right to poison the data streams that determine which stories Google and Facebook send to their readers? What are the responsibilities of those who build and maintain those data streams? The ethics of scale around "fake news" certainly needs to account for the platforms (such as Facebook) that are, as Renee DiResta has said, "tailor-made for a small group of vocal people to amplify their voices."

Whether the issue is privacy, safety, honesty, or any other issue, the ability of our systems to amplify problems to internet scale changes the problem itself. I could have come up with many examples. Banks routinely deny loans, and it’s certainly unethical to loan money to someone who won’t be able to repay, or to refuse loans for reasons unrelated to the applicant’s ability to pay, but what happens when loan applications are denied at scale? Are entire classes of people treated unfairly? Are loans routinely denied to people who come from certain neighborhoods, work at certain occupations, or have certain medical conditions? Informers used to identify opponents of a political regime one at a time; now, face recognition can potentially identify every attendee at a protest or a rally. These problems are superficially the same as they were decades ago—but when scaled, they change completely.

The ethics of scale differs at least in part because of the "fellow travelers" that we've seen: the problems of hidden agency and unforeseen consequences. The tools that we use to achieve scale, by nature, hide agency. Is a judge responsible for sentencing a prisoner, or is that responsibility given to an algorithm that hides control? Do responsible humans create advertising campaigns, or do we delegate those tasks to software? If an algorithm rejects a credit application, who ensures that the decision was fair and unbiased? We can't address the ethics of scale without talking about the people—not the algorithms—responsible for decisions, and we are right to be wary of systems for which no one seems accountable.

The problem of unforeseen consequences is perhaps the greatest irony of the connected internet age. The internet itself is nothing but an unforeseen consequence. Back in the 1970s, it was an interesting DARPA-funded experiment. None of the internet’s inventors could have foreseen its future, and they would probably have designed it differently if they had. Back in the early 1990s, when the public internet was young, it was supposed to bring about world peace by facilitating communication and understanding; and just over a decade later, we proudly proclaimed that social media enabled the Arab Spring. Those of us who shared that naivete also share responsibility: a less naive culture might, in due time, have created a Facebook or a Twitter that wasn't so vulnerable to "fake news." Indeed, everything from the Morris worm and the first email spam to the Equifax attack is an unforeseen consequence.

It's not possible to foresee all consequences, let alone eliminate them, and obsessing over those consequences may well paralyze us and prevent us from doing good. The novelty of any invention makes it even more difficult to predict how the consequences will play out; who would have thought that Mitt Romney’s remark about “binders full of women” would have started an internet meme? But thinking about ethics and participating in an ethical discussion about software at scale requires us to foresee some of those consequences, and think about their effects before all of us become the victims. And as time goes on, we need to become less naive. Once we’ve seen how the reaction to a chance remark can propagate like wildfire through social media, and even into Amazon product reviews, we should be aware of how our systems can be manipulated and gamed.

Immanuel Kant's “categorical imperative” may help us to think about ethics at scale. "Act according to the principle which you would want to be a universal law" says that we should think carefully about the kind of world we are creating. Are we building systems optimized to maximize profit for a small group of stakeholders, or are we building a system that will be better for all of humanity? What are the consequences of our actions and creations to individuals, but also multiplied to all the inhabitants of our world? We need to look at bigger pictures, and we certainly should be more skeptical about our abilities than we were in the early days of the internet. The ACM’s Code of Ethics and Professional Conduct is a good starting point for a discussion, as are organizations such as Data & Society and NYU’s AINow. Many colleges and universities now offer classes on data ethics. But many people in the software industry have yet to join the discussion.

We need to think boldly about the concrete, everyday problems we face, many of which are problems of our own making. We're not talking about a hypothetical AI that might decide to turn the world into paper clips. We're talking about systems that are already working among us, defining the world in which we live—and wasting our time on arcane hypothetical issues will only prevent us from solving the real problems. As Tim O'Reilly says, our Skynet moment has already happened: we live in a web of entangled partially intelligent systems, designed to maximize objective functions that were designed with no thought for our well-being.

It's time to put those systems under our control. It’s time for the businesses, from Google and Facebook (and Target) to the newest startups, to realize that their future isn’t tied up in short-term profits, but in building a better world for their users. Their business opportunity doesn’t lie in building echo chambers or in placing personalized ads, but in helping to create a world that’s more fair and just, even at scale. To build better systems and businesses, we need to become better people. And to be better people, we must learn to think about ethics: not just personal ethics, but ethics at scale.

Continue reading Ethics at scale.

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