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strawwritesfic · 1 month

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Kelvin!Spock x Female!Human!Reader: Mr. Right

Summary: When one door closes, another opens—perhaps the door you were meant to enter all along.

Warnings/Tags: Starship Enterprise; post-Star Trek Beyond; friends to lovers; breakup; almost kiss; counselor!reader; Star Trek: The Original Series references; Star Trek: The Next Generation references

Relationships: Spock/Reader; Spock & Nyota Uhura; past!Spock/Nyota Uhura; past!Kevin Riley/Reader

Challenge: “160 Collective Drabbles” challenge by BobaPop on Lunaescence Archives.

Requester: @lovemesomeescapism

Tag List: @imaginesfire

Notes: For once, this is not a repost for this challenge…technically. I did write a response to the prompt "Mr. Right" ages ago, but when I was reposting, I decided that the Now You See Me one shot I wrote really wasn't worth keeping. Someone on Tumblr asked me for a Spock one shot, so I slipped him in as a replacement.

It's been a really long time since I finished something new. I realize that I am rusty. This is actually several drafts into attempts to write this one shot. For the first time ever, I actually cannibalized previous drafts while trying to get the meandering dialogue and point back on track. It still doesn't feel quite "right" to me, but it's probably going to take some time before I get back in the swing of things, and I'm ready to let this one go.

Mr. Right

Throughout Terra's history, human beings had sought the comfort of white noise. Quiet droning sounds proved beneficial for many aspects of mental health in the species. As a counselor on board the U.S.S. Enterprise, you'd recommended listening to white noise to dozens of fellow crewmates and patients alike. The best way to do this in the deep space you'd all been exploring for nearly five years was to turn everything in one's quarters down until the low hum of the ship's warp drive became audible. Many of those crewmates and patients reported back to you with decreased stress levels, improved mood, and a distinct uptick in ability to concentrate. Almost all of them said they got better sleep.

Now you learned that every single one of them had lied to you.

You'd spent the better part of the evening-adjacent hours lying face-down on your sofa, trying and failing to take a nap. The scratchy, standard-issue pillow beneath your face was soaked with tears. Your chest ached. Worst of all, any attempt on your part to get your mind off what upset you just ended with you crying harder. All the while, that awful rumble went on and on and on and on relentlessly, allowing you no respite long enough to drift off and forget your current predicament.

A chime cut through your misery. You paused without so much as lifting your head. As of three hours prior, you were officially off duty for the day. Nothing required you to answer the door unless an order came down from a superior officer, and they would call first. Probably it was only Uhura coming by to check on you. Having been through her own breakup during this voyage, surely she would understand when you didn't let her inside.

The chime sounded again, and with it came a surge of possibilities flooding your mind. What if your visitor was dealing with a crisis? Cases of PTSD had been on the rise since the events on Altamid. You could hardly ignore that in favor of your own small, personal crisis. Off duty or not, your role as a ship's counselor would not allow you to wallow in self-pity when someone might need your help.

As your boots hit the floor, you pressed one sleeve of your rumpled blue uniform to the corner of each eye. The gesture wouldn't do much to disguise what you'd been doing over the course of your time off, but you felt a little steadier afterward. Breathing deeply in and out helped too—until you hiccuped. But you could prepare yourself no more. Squaring your shoulders, you stood, walked over to the door leading to the corridor, and opened it.

Just outside stood the familiar, lanky figure of the ship's science officer. The second you spotted him, you wiped your sleeve across your face with greater urgency.

"You're not one of my patients," you said, "or Uhura."

"A very astute observation, Lieutenant [L Name]," Spock replied.

A long moment elapsed during which the two of you stared at one another. Several fellow crewmates in various uniform colors threw curious looks at his back as they passed by on their ways to wherever they were headed. Your friend, meanwhile, allowed a single dark eyebrow to drift toward his hairline. He clearly had no intention of moving on.

"What are you doing here?" you sighed at last.

The wayward eyebrow rejoined its brother. "Lieutenant Commander Uhura informed me that you left your office this afternoon in distress. I note that her assessment was an accurate one. If anything, you appear to be in more distress now than she described to me then."

You couldn't lie to Spock, not when you looked the way you looked after a crying jag like the one you'd just had. So you didn't bother to try. "Fine. I'm in distress. But really, Spock, it's not the kind of distress you can help with. I'm sure Captain Kirk will need you on a landing party any minute now, so if you'll excuse me—"

"Lieutenant Commander Uhura also informed me of the cause of your distress."

"Of course she did." Sometimes you wished your two friends were a little lighter on the "amicable" part of "amicable exes." "Let me guess: You came by to tell me that you told me so."

"As a Vulcan, I have no reason to rub my correct prediction in your face, if you will forgive the Terra colloquial."

You let out a wet laugh despite yourself. "You're pardoned."

"What I have done is stopped by the mess hall. If I am not much mistaken, ice cream is a traditional consolation food in these types of situations."

He produced from behind his back a number of different colored tapes. So startled were you that you found yourself unable to say anything. Never in a million years would you have imagined Spock of all people standing in front of you and offering you junk food of all things. Your silence went on for so long that he had to prompt you to speak:

"Was I incorrect in my understanding of how to handle Terran breakups?"

"No," you said, then, "I just didn't want you to find out about the breakup until I could pull myself together."

"I surmised as much, given that Lieutenant Commander Uhura found out about your circumstances before I did, although you and I are closer friends. It would have been more logical for you to contact me for assistance than her."

Vulcans as a whole were difficult to read. Even factoring in your education and training, as well as your friendship with Spock that had gone on for several years now, you could only guess his feelings the majority of the time. Not so then. Something about his tone made him sound hurt. Maybe you could chalk that up to projecting your own feelings onto him, but you couldn't risk that assumption.

"It's just that you warned me against dating Kevin," you explained. "As ship's counselor, I should have seen the end coming a kiloparsec away."

"Perhaps. But one might also say that your extensive proximity to the crew's emotions might cause some loss in objectivity on your part."

"So you're not here to make me feel worse?"

"I came for consolation purposes. That is all."

"Well, all right, then."

You stepped away from the doorway. Spock followed you in. He paused only long enough to press the button to close the door before he came to join you in your sitting room. A crate sat on the floor along his path, and he looked at you questioningly as he walked by it.

"Those are Kevin's things," you said.

"Expedient," he observed.

Normally, you might have tried to go for a little more decorum around him, but that day you didn't have the energy to do more than flop back onto your couch. At least you were upright. Spock, on the other hand, claimed a dignified perch at the end of your chair. The two of you certainly made an odd pair.

"He had so many hair products!" you burst out when the awkward silence turned unbearable. "I should have known we wouldn't work out. Who brings that much hair spray into deep space?"

"Humanity can hardly be expected to iron out all its flaws when you all cling so hard to your baser emotions."

"Do you mean Kevin's desire to look nice, or my need to be in a relationship?"

Spock blinked, then smoothly said, "In this case, I refer to your former beau's preoccupation with personal grooming."

"Right. Either way, I'm about ready to get rid of all my own baser emotions. Not feeling them would be a blessing." You got back to your feet and thrust one hand in Spock's direction. "Ice cream tape, please."

He offered one to you.

"Spock," you said warningly.

"I do not believe that heartbreak is an excuse to overeat. I only brought so many because I was unsure which flavor you would select."

The glare you leveled at him seemed to make him think better of lecturing you on the dangers of gluttony—as well it should have. This was the same glare that you gave Dr. McCoy when you were tired of listening to him. Unlike with Dr. McCoy, you smiled once Spock dropped the rest of the tapes into your outstretched hand.

"Thank you." You headed for your in-quarters food producer, then turned your head to ask over your shoulder, "What flavor do you want?"

"I do not require ice cream."

"Come on, Spock. If you're going to spend the evening commiserating with me, you have to have some ice cream, too. That's a critical part of the Terran breakup process."

One corner of his mouth twitched. "I'll have pistachio, then."

You fed the yellow-green tape into the slot. A quiet beeping noise covered the hum of the warp drive as the computer worked. While you waited, you flipped through the remainder of the flavors until you found the one you wanted.

"I don't think it would be a good idea for you to give up emotions," Spock said.

"Huh?" Frowning at him, you replaced his tape with yours. "Aren't you the guy that's been talking about doing the Kolinahr when we get back to Earth?"

"That's different. I am a Vulcan."

"Half Vulcan."

"Vulcan enough."

A shriller beep put an end to this potentially sticky subject. The ice creams were ready. You dumped the rest of the tapes in a basket next to the food producer, picked up the bowls, and brought them back to the living room. Spock took his with a grateful nod, though he waited until you sat down again before taking a bite.

"Maybe I'd be a better counselor if I didn't have emotions," you mused. "If I wasn't blinded by my own feelings, I could help the crew more with theirs. I shouldn't have the same problems as they do after all the studying I've done."

"While that may indeed make sense, it is hardly realistic. Besides, if you did not have your human emotions, you would no longer be the [Name] that I know, and I believe that I would miss her."

You couldn't help but smile around the spoon in your mouth. Popping that out, you said, "I bet you say that to all the Terrans you like."

"Hardly. In fact, that captain may benefit from an hour or two without his usual emotions."

"I appreciate you saying that, Spock."

"I am only speaking the truth. I have no intention of bolstering your ego artificially, even if doing so is a part of the Terran breakup process."

"I know." You slowly lowered your spoon back to the bowl, staring off into space. Something was dawning on you—something that might have dawned on you sooner had you not been so enthralled with your own feelings. "You know what else I appreciate? You coming here to help me today. Not every first officer would go out of their way for a ship's counselor like that."

Spock fixed you with an unblinking gaze as he said, "You mean a great deal more to me than most ship's counselors mean to their first officers."

"I don't care what Captain Kirk says. You sure know how to make a woman blush."

"I have had some practice with the activity."

"Remind me to thank Uhura later."

"Thank her for what?" Spock asked.

Maybe you were reading the signs wrong. Maybe you were just desperate. If he had to ask, you had to be wrong. But you took a deep breath anyway, and said, "Helping me realize that maybe the guy I've been looking for this whole time has been my best friend all along."

How could it have taken you this long to work it out? No one else spent as much time with you as Spock did, not outside of your office hours. It didn't matter if you were in the mess hall asking for a round of Fizzbin after dinner or you wanted a quiet night in your quarters. He always seemed to be there. You felt comfortable around him. Maybe you didn't always understand Spock; maybe Spock didn't always understand. But you didn't enjoy anyone's company the way you did his. And you had to wonder when your eyes met just then if he felt the same way, and if this coming-to-see-you-with-ice-cream thing was his way of showing you that.

"Well," he moistened his lips before going on, "I certainly feel that our relationship is founded more steadily upon mutual interests and desires than it is upon a passion for hair products."

You leaned forward. "You know, that sort of relationship sounds really appealing right about now."

"It does?" Spock shifted closer to you.

"I think it's about time that I dated someone whose first thought in the morning isn't beating me to the sonic shower, don't you?"

By that time, you both had come so close that it wouldn't have taken much more movement on either of your parts to touch lips. Your heart gave a painful leap inside your chest. Was this too much too fast? Even if you had just realized you'd had a thing for Spock for a while now, you had only just broken up with your last boyfriend that morning. Treating Spock as a rebound was the last thing you wanted to do. He didn't seem to mind, though. His mouth drew closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath on your face.

The communicator in your room chirped. You jumped. Spock paused before sitting back up in his chair. Then you rose wordlessly, stepped over to the panel, cleared your throat, and pushed the button.

"[L Name]," you said.

"[Name]?" Uhura did not remark on how breathless you sounded, thankfully. "I need to talk to Spock."

"It's for you," you said unnecessarily. Spock had already reset his face into its typical blank mask and made his way to the communicator himself.

"Spock here. What is it, Lieutenant Commander?"

"Captain Kirk needs you on the bridge. We have a situation up here."

"What kind of a situation?"

"There's a former United States President floating outside the ship. He says he needs our help."

"I will be there right away."

A second chirp signaled that communications between your room and the bridge had ceased. Spock turned back to you.

"My presence is needed on the bridge," he said.

"So I heard."

"I apologize. I believe we were in the middle of something."

"It's all right."

He didn't move.

"Spock, go. Don't you want to know why a deceased historical figure has asked for the Enterprise's help?"

"I'd prefer to stay here," Spock said. "But you are correct. I must leave. Will you still be here later tonight?"

"Yeah." You surprised yourself with the eagerness of your answer. "Yeah, I will. I promise I won't run off with any other lieutenants while you're away. I'll save the rest of the ice cream. We can share it when you get back."

There it was: The slight curl to Spock's mouth that told you that you weren't making up the mutual attraction between you both after all. "To use another Terran phrase, it's a date."

He hesitated another moment longer before he quickly exited your quarter. You grinned as the door slid shut behind him and the white noise returned full force. As you sunk into your couch and pillow this time, you found you didn't mind the hum as much. In fact, the sound did exactly what it was supposed to do: Relax you. Kevin and his excuses from that morning felt farther away than your own home planet. Maybe you owed him a thank you, too, because if you were still with him, you wouldn't have slept as well as you did that night knowing that Spock would be back soon.

#fan fic #straw writes #reader insert #second person pov #star trek #star trek beyond #challenge response #request #spock #spock x reader #spock x you #spock x y/n #star trek x reader #star trek x y/n #star trek you #kelvin universe

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dystopicjumpsuit · 9 months

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Stars Beyond Number - Chapter 1

Remember Us

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged; regardless of rating, minors DNI)

Pairings: Echo x Riyo Chuchi; Gregor x OFC Cerra Kilian

Wordcount: 2.8k

Warnings: minor angst

Suggested Listening:

Summary: Soldiers. Heroes. Deserters. Traitors. They've been called many things. As the Galactic Empire rises from the ashes of the Republic, a small group of clone troopers and their allies will find a new identity: Rebels.

Echo, Rex, and Gregor are on a mission to save as many of their brothers as they can. The task is daunting, and their friends are few. But from these small and desperate beginnings will come a spark of resistance that will set the galaxy ablaze.

A/N: This story shares continuity with Martyrs and Kings and "Do It Again," but all three fics can be read as stand-alones.

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Remember us—if at all—not as lost violent souls, but only as the hollow men.

—T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”

The Marauder pushed off the landing platform with a roar of thrusters and rose through the underworld portal until it disappeared in the swirl of air speeder and starship traffic. The repair shop where Rex had set up his base of operations was deep in the lower levels of Coruscant, and Echo knew the ship would keep ascending long after he lost sight of it before it reached the surface. His decision to part ways with the Batch had seemed very straightforward and logical as he’d discussed it with Hunter, Wrecker, and Tech, but in the face of Omega’s tearful farewell, his resolve had nearly crumbled.

He knew that the rest of the Batch would never let any harm come to the girl; her safety was their only priority. But Echo needed to do more to help his fellow clones, and with Rex, he would finally be in a position to do so. And so he merely watched as the ship departed, bearing his brothers and sister back to Ord Mantell and Cid’s endlessly questionable jobs.

He turned to rejoin Rex and Senator Chuchi. They had been conversing discreetly, giving him privacy and space as he said his goodbyes. The senator watched him now, her luminous eyes soft.

“It’s very brave of you, Echo, to stay behind and join our network after everything you’ve been through,” she said.

“Thank you, Senator,” he said, “but I’ve never been one to back down from a fight.”

“Please, call me Riyo,” she said.

Echo nodded as Rex clapped him on the shoulder.

“Come on, brother,” his old captain said. “I’ll show you around.”

The tour didn’t take long. The repair shop apparently belonged to Trace Martez, the young thief Echo had encountered on Corellia. Rex had taken over the shop when Coruscant got a little too hot for the Martez sisters’ comfort. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement: Rex needed a home base, and Trace needed someone to make sure the shop didn’t fall victim to the seedier elements of the underworld. Rex had set up a kitchen, a temporary barracks, and a small training gym at the back of the shop. There was a tiny room that served as a makeshift office and command center, and finally a communal refresher with two open shower stalls, an enclosed toilet, and a small sink. The garage contained few creature comforts; mostly they just used crates for furniture, though there was a broken-down old sofa with a holotable set up in front of it.

The accommodations were spare and shabby, which was familiar to Echo, but he was struck by how out-of-place Riyo looked in the shop. With her elegant clothing and elaborate hairstyle, she looked far too delicate and fine for her surroundings. Still, she didn’t display either judgment or discomfort at the sparseness of the shop. Echo stole occasional glances at her, admiring the soft curves of her face, the graceful line of her throat, the way her wide, intelligent eyes took in everything around her, missing not a single detail. He wondered how to describe the exact shade of her hair. Was it mauve? Or maybe violet was more accurate. Her gaze shifted to him, and he looked away quickly.

The unmistakable whine of a speeder bike landing on the platform outside interrupted his train of thought, and soon footsteps echoed through the shop.

“Rex? You here?” a woman’s voice called.

“Back here, Cerra,” Rex replied. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

The woman strode into view, faltering a little when she spotted Echo.

“Echo, I’d like you to meet Cerra Kilian,” Rex said. “She handles logistics. Very good at getting things clones aren’t supposed to have.”

“Nice to meet you, Cerra,” Echo said.

The woman clasped Echo’s hand in a reserved greeting and nodded at Riyo. “A pleasure, Echo. Senator, it’s good to see you again.”

“And you as well, Cerra,” Riyo replied.

The contrast between the two women could not have been more stark. Riyo was lovely, with her wide, golden eyes, azure skin, and glossy lavender—no, lilac—hair. Everything about her was soft and feminine and fragile, almost ethereal. Cerra was taller and more solid, her face more angular, and everything about her spoke of practical decisions, from her buzzed head, to her faded mechanic’s coveralls and sturdy boots. More striking, though, was the difference in their expressions. While Riyo’s face was gentle and easy to read, Cerra’s guarded eyes revealed nothing of her thoughts.

“Got a lead on that electro capsule the clone assassin used,” Cerra said.

“What did you learn?” Rex asked.

“It isn’t underworld tech,” Cerra said. “At least, not as far as any of my contacts could tell. More likely military-grade.”

“Then it probably was Rampart’s work,” Rex said grimly.

“Hard to say,” Cerra said. “We know somebody was pulling Rampart’s strings. I’ll keep looking.”

“I hope I don’t sound selfish, but I can’t help wondering. Do you think I might still be in danger?” Riyo asked.

Cerra looked at Rex, wordlessly deferring to him.

“It’s difficult to say,” Rex said. “For now, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for your guards to take additional precautions.”

“I can take a look at their security protocols and offer a few suggestions, if you’d like,” Echo offered.

“Thank you,” Riyo said, gazing up at him with gratitude in her eyes. “I would imagine that someone as accomplished at infiltration as an ARC Trooper would be the best person to find weaknesses in security.”

“Former ARC Trooper,” Echo said, wondering what else Rex had told her about him.

“I don’t think anyone could forget ARC training,” Rex said with a quiet laugh.

Cerra’s eyes flickered to the front entrance of the repair shop, and Echo turned automatically, preparing for a threat. Instead, he recognized a familiar face.

“Didn’t realize we were having a party,” Gregor said as he strode into the room and clasped Echo’s forearm in greeting. “Good to have you with us, Echo.”

The commando nodded at Rex and Riyo, then draped his arm casually over Cerra’s shoulders and handed her a travel cup. The woman pushed him off with an indistinct grumble, but she took the cup with the barest hint of a smile.

“I got some intel on a clone in the 41st Elite Corps who wants to get out. Name’s Fireball, do you know him?” Gregor asked.

“I’ve met him,” Rex said. “Good man. Good soldier.”

“Is the 41st still on Kashyyyk?” Echo asked. “I was there recently. Rex, it could get ugly.”

“It’ll take some time to plan,” Rex said noncommittally.

“That’s not the only thing we’ll need to plan,” Gregor said. “If we’re going to be extracting clones, we’re going to need a way to get the inhibitor chips out of their heads. AZI took mine out on Ord Mantell, but we don’t have a medical droid of our own.”

“Karthon chop fields,” Cerra said. Riyo and the three clones all turned to her. “I’ve been looking into it. My source says there are at least three downed Venators slated for decommissioning on Karthon. We can pull the surgical pod from one of the med bays and set it up here.”

“It’s risky,” Rex said.

“Not as risky as Lotho Minor or Bracca, now that the Empire has stepped up security after your adventure there last year,” Cerra said. “I can get it, but I’ll need help. Gregor, you in?”

“I’d like Echo to go with you on this one,” Rex interjected.

Cerra didn’t react except to nod. “It’s going to take a few days to get the supplies together.”

Over the next few days, Echo began to get a feel for the small group living in the repair shop. Rex was right: his organization was spread thin. Echo wasn’t exactly sure how many others were involved, but at the moment, the only people besides himself who were at the garage were Rex, Cerra, and Gregor. Any others were either deployed on missions or based elsewhere. The three of them were run ragged. Rex looked even more exhausted than he had during the war. Cerra was quiet and remote, keeping to herself and rarely instigating conversations. Gregor was the only one who still seemed to have a sense of humor.

In addition to running missions with Rex, Gregor was the self-appointed quartermaster and chef of the group. He was a surprisingly good cook, and when Echo complimented the food, the commando grinned.

“It’s nice to be the one in charge of the kitchen instead of just washing dishes,” he said.

“If I start cooking, does that mean I can skip dish duty?” Cerra asked.

“No thanks, I’ve tasted your cooking,” Gregor laughed, his eyes bright.

“Rude, but fair,” Cerra acknowledged.

It was the night before Echo was due to travel to Karthon with Cerra. The group sprawled around the holotable, chatting quietly as they ate Gregor’s spicy yobshrimp stew. Echo was jittery. He wasn’t nervous about the mission itself; he’d completed hundreds of missions. But they were always with his brothers or a Jedi. This was his first time with a civilian. Still, Rex obviously trusted Cerra enough to send her after the surgical pod, so Echo tried to quiet his nerves.

“I can take KP tonight,” Echo offered, looking for a distraction.

“You’re on,” Cerra said immediately.

“Sucker,” Gregor giggled.

The kitchen was a spectacular mess, and it took some time for Echo to finish cleaning up. By the time he did, he could hear music blasting from the training gym, and he went to investigate.

Gregor leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, as he watched Rex spar with Cerra. Her face was flushed with exertion, and beads of sweat speckled her forehead and dripped down her temples. Echo could tell that Rex was holding back, though Cerra had surprisingly good form. She clearly had training, but it wasn’t enough against an opponent who was taller, stronger, heavier, and had been trained literally from birth to be a killing machine. Gregor occasionally tossed out a dispassionate suggestion or command, focusing on techniques specifically for fighting a larger combatant.

“Pull guard, Cerra, just like we practiced,” the commando coached.

Cerra grabbed Rex’s forearm and took him to the ground, locking her legs around his waist. Echo immediately recognized the move; he’d practiced it often enough during ARC training. He hadn’t sparred with anyone in ages, and he wondered if his prosthetic legs were agile enough to do it. He suspected so; though they were not quite as dexterous as his legs had formerly been, they made up for it in durability and strength. A single kick would be strong enough to snap a limb or break a spine.

“That’s better, Cerra,” Rex praised.

“Next time, rotate your foot to the outside,” Gregor said, unimpressed. “Unless you want to break your own ankle or get your leg pinned.”

Cerra slapped Rex on the back of the head. “Stop taking it easy on me.”

He grinned down at her. “Sorry, kid. Gotta walk before you can run.”

“First of all, I’m twice your age, and secondly, a real opponent won’t pull their punches,” she said.

“That’s why you have a blaster,” Rex replied calmly. “Want to go again?”

She nodded, but Gregor intervened. “You need to rest up for tomorrow’s mission.”

Cerra released Rex immediately, and he stood to his feet, then extended a hand and pulled her up from the mat. She was breathing hard, and Gregor tossed her a towel to dry off. She spotted Echo and acknowledged him with a jerk of her chin.

“Maybe Echo can teach me some sweet ARC moves while we’re en route to Karthon,” she said.

“Didn’t Fives show you any?” Gregor asked.

Rex winced, but Cerra mopped her face and arms with the towel.

“A few,” she said.

“You knew Fives?” Echo asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m going to hop in the shower.”

“I can’t believe we’re taking that rust-bucket to Karthon,” Echo said.

The rickety shuttle was practically an antique. The sublight drive rattled alarmingly when it started up, and even the hydraulic struts for the ramp only worked about half the time.

“It’s old, but it still has some tricks thanks to Trace,” Rex said. “It’ll get you there and back. Besides, it’s the only ship we have with a cargo hold big enough to transport the surgical pod.”

“She’ll fly all right,” Cerra said as she joined them. “Not fast. Hopefully she won’t leak like a sieve.”

Rex was holding two travel mugs of caf, and he handed one to Cerra.

“You’re a god among men,” she said, taking a blissful sip.

“Is the other one for me?” Echo asked.

“Kark no,” Rex said, chugging half the liquid in one go. “Get your own.”

Cerra strode up the ramp and flopped into the co-pilot’s seat. “Don’t worry, Echo, we can stop at Starcups on the way out.”

Echo pulled a face. “Starcups barely qualifies as caf. More like syrup and blue milk that once heard a rumor about caf.”

“Still gets the job done,” Cerra shrugged. “Let’s roll.”

In the slow, dilapidated old shuttle, it was a full day’s jump to Karthon. Cerra was mostly silent once they entered hyperspace, tinkering with the electronic guts of a clone armor cuirass that she’d modified heavily. Echo, accustomed to Wrecker and Omega’s raucous banter and Tech’s spontaneous infodumps, found the silence deafening. He wished Gregor had come with them on the mission. The commando’s relaxed attitude and cheerful personality seemed to pull Cerra out of her shell in a way that Echo had not yet figured out how to do. He was no sparkling conversationalist, but he didn’t enjoy silence and solitude—not any more.

It had only been a few days, but he missed the Batch. He missed Tech’s monologues as they copiloted the Marauder on long hyperspace jumps. He missed Omega’s endless questions and cheerful commentary. He thought of the way the tears had welled in her eyes as she hugged him goodbye, and his chest ached at the memory.

The cuirass sparked, and Cerra flinched and cursed.

“Need a hand?” Echo offered.

Cerra sighed and dragged a hand across her eyes. “I think I fried one of the connectors when I heated the plastoid to reshape the chestplate. The control unit fits, but I can’t get it to sync with the HUD.”

She passed the cuirass to Echo, who inspected it closely. She was right; there was a tiny scorch mark on one of the connectors.

“We’ll have to salvage another chestplate to get replacements,” he said. “Decent chance we’ll find some on Karthon.”

“At least it’ll give me some protection for now,” she said. “I’ll just have to go without a helmet until I can get it fixed.”

“I can help with the modifications, if you’d like,” Echo offered. “I have some experience with armor mods.”

“So I see,” she said, eyeing his custom suit. “I figured your armor wasn’t exactly off the rack.”

Echo chuckled. “Not exactly. My squadmate Tech helped me with my first set of armor after Skako Minor, but this set I modified myself. I added some extra features. Aside from the obvious.” He gestured to his scomp.

“What kind of features?” she asked.

“Electrical surge prevention,” he said.

She nodded. “Kix told me you got a hell of a jolt at Anaxes.”

“You knew Kix as well as Fives?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said. “He’s gone, too.”

Darkness flickered across her face, but she took a deep breath and her usual stoicism slid back into place. Echo reached out to lay his hand on her shoulder, but something about her posture made him think she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. He faltered and dropped his hand back to his side. After a time, he broke the silence.

“So,” he said. “How well did you know Fives?”

“Pretty well,” she said flatly. “So how about those sweet ARC moves?”

He wanted to push, wanted to know more. Rex had given him the bare-bones account of Fives’s death, but there never seemed to be enough time to actually process it. Cerra was the only person in Echo’s life other than Rex who had known his twin, but her walls seemed to be made of durasteel, reinforced with beskar. And the last thing he wanted to do was scug her off right before he headed into a mission, trusting her to have his back.

“Rex went through ARC training, too, you know,” Echo pointed out. “He knows all those moves. But I can show you a trick or two that I learned from Clone Force 99.”

---

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anonymousewrites · 4 months

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Logos and Pathos (Book 3) Chapter Twenty-Four

TOS! Spock x Empath! Reader

Chapter Twenty-Four: Controlling Psychics

Summary: Spock, (Y/N), Kirk, and Bones arrive on Platonius for an unknown distress call and find themselves in a psychic mess.

Captain’s Log: We are responding to desperate distress calls from an unknown planet. My science officer, Mr. Spock, is unable to account for this since he reported no sign of life on the planet. It is rich in kironide deposits, a very rare and long-lasting source of great power. Mr. Spock, Mx. (L/N), Dr. McCoy, and I have beamed down to investigate.

They materialized in an entryway to a room that reminded (Y/N) of designs of ancient Earth ruins. Greece, they believed (though their memory for ancient history was often clouded by what they knew about current cultures).

“Are you from the starship Enterprise?” said a booming voice, though it came from no discernable body. Then, a shadow appeared as someone walked closer.

“We are,” said Kirk.

A man, quite short, appeared around the corner. The walls of the room had amplified his voice. He was dressed in what (Y/N) again believed was ancient Greek robes. “Alexander, at your service,” he said, smiling He was nervous, but his emotions were more warmth than anything. “I sing, I dance, I play all variety of games, and I’m a good loser, a very good loser.” His nerves grew stronger, and (Y/N) furrowed their brow. “Please, sir, try to bear that in mind.” He waved for them to follow, and the group did.

“Who are the people of this planet?” asked (Y/N).

“Oh, Platonians,” said Alexander. “I’m sure you’ve never heard of us. Our native star is Sahndara. Millennia ago, just before it went nova, we managed to escape. Our leader liked Plato’s ideas. Plato, Platonius, see? In fact, our current king, Parmen, sometimes called us Plato’s children, although we sometimes think of ourselves more as Plato’s stepchildren.”

He paused suddenly, and (Y/N) felt a tremble in their empathic senses. Another psychic was around and, judging by Alexander’s expression, speaking to him.

“Excuse me, uh, someone’s waiting for you,” said Alexander.

He stiffened and hopped away uncomfortably as if compelled by an unseen force. (Y/N) frowned uncomfortably at the motion. However, there was nothing the group could do but exchange glances and follow.

Alexander’s hopping led them to another room, and once the doors open, they could see a lavishly decorated room in the same Grecian style. A man reclined on a sofa, and a woman doted upon him. Several other people stood around. All wore the same Grecian robes, though theirs were more ornate than Alexander’s. The woman at the sofa rose when she saw the guests and descended from the dais, her green dress swirling elegantly as she moved.

(Y/N) could feel the pain of the man lying down and the worry of the woman instantly, and it was amplified in their senses. These two were psychics—with no barriers to their minds, they gave off stronger emotions.

(Most psychic species were like this to varying degrees. The more open the mind and stronger the abilities, the stronger the emotions. Vulcans were exceptions due to the closed-off nature of their minds and emotions. They kept barriers that stopped empaths from sensing their emotions to any degree. When Spock chose to share his emotions with (Y/N), though, they encompassed all of their senses)

“Welcome to our republic,” said the woman. “Who among you is the physician?”

“I am,” said Bones. “What’s the problem?”

“My spouse—his leg,” said the woman. “Come this way.” She escorted them to the dais.

Bones stepped up and looked at the man. “Well, what happened to his leg?”

“I suppose I scratched it,” said the man.

“I don’t understand,” said Bones, staring at the cut. “This should’ve been attended to immediately.”

“Sheer ignorance,” said the man, groaning. “Is there anything you can do?”

“Well, we’re certainly going to try,” said Bones. He looked at (Y/N). “Can you calm some of his pain so I can get to work? The infection is massive and probably agonizing.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Of course.”

“What if they hurt him?” said the woman suspiciously.

“(Y/N) is an Empath. They need only touch your spouse to ease his pain,” said Spock, defending (Y/N)’s skill and honor.

“And I wouldn’t harm him,” said (Y/N).

“Very well,” said the man. “I will accept the empath’s help.”

(Y/N) approached and put a hand on his arm. They allowed themself to take some of his pain and dull his suffering. The man sighed and relaxed. Around them, the various Platonians’ emotions turned pleased as they saw the empath at work. (Y/N) felt disconcerted by the attention.

“Good,” said Bones, opening his med pack. “Now something for the infection.” He reached for a needle, but it floated up.

Psychics, as I thought, thought (Y/N).

“Where?” asked the man, keeping the needle floating.

“In the leg,” said Bones, looking on in surprise.

The needle pushed into his leg and injected. Then, it floated back to Bones’s hand. (Y/N)’s attention snapped towards the woman as she sat and observed them. Her face was cold, and Alexander’s emotions were full of fear as he spoke to her.

(Y/N) knew that gut feelings were effective in missions, but this…something they didn’t like was going on. It was disconcerting. (Y/N) watched as the woman forced Alexander to cover his mouth, and her emotions sharpened to anger.

No, they definitely didn’t like this.

(Y/N) drew their hand back once the pain of the man abated enough. Around them, the Platonians were playing chess with Alexander. They amused themselves by moving the stone pieces with their minds while Alexander had to lift it himself. (Y/N) didn’t like how they played with him. These psychics…there was something in their manner that reminded them of the Novisans.

“What is your prognosis, Doctor?” asked the man.

“I’ll let you know when I have the results,” said Bones. “And from now on, it would be better if I handled the instruments without your help.”

He stepped down from the dais, scan completed. (Y/N) followed. The Starfleet officers gathered in the center of the room.

“Bones, I don’t understand why a simple cut like that could become so serious,” said Kirk.

“Neither do I, but it has,” said Bones. “How do I knock out an infection when the tricorder doesn’t show any information on Platonius bacteria? What I’ve given him is the basics, but it won’t continue to help.”

“His pain is returning, too,” said (Y/N).

“All I could do was match his bugs with a known strain and hope,” said Bones.

The woman in green approached. “I apologize for my rudeness. I am Philana.” Although she spoke politely, she was cold, and her emotions were the same. It seemed she just wanted them to continue to treat her spouse well.

“Hello,” said Kirk. “Thank you for having us. I have to ask, though, this psychokinetic power of yours—how long have you had it? Did it come from Sahndar?”

“We’ve had it two and a half—ever since our arrival here on Platonius,” said Philana.

“How is the power transmitted?” asked Spock.

“Brain waves,” Philana replied.

“Do these waves cease when you’re asleep?” questioned Spock.

“No, not if they’re imbedded in the unconscious,” said Philana.

“Well, what about medicine? Why no doctors?” asked Bones.

“Well, we haven’t any pressing need for the medical arts,” said Philana. “You see, while still on Sahndara, we instituted a mass eugenics program. We are the result.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened at the phrase, the idea and the lack of emotions Philana expressed while speaking both horrifying. It seemed their suspicion had been correct. They exchanged a glance with the others, equally tense. This place…they would leave as soon as they were finished.

“Pared down to a population of 38, we’re perfect for our Eutopia,” said Philana. “We’re bred for contemplation and self-reliance…and longevity.” She lifted her chin proudly. “How old would you say I am?” Kirk hesitated politely. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not vain.”

Lie, thought (Y/N).

“Thirty-five,” said Spock without hesitation.

Anger tinged Philana’s emotions. “That old? I stopped aging at thirty.”

(Y/N) was very proud of Spock all of a sudden.

“Well, anyway, you’re off by two thousand years,” said Philana. “I’m 2,300 years old. Parmen and I were married very young. I was only 117, and he was 128. You see, we scarcely have to move anymore, let alone work.”

“That’s why you have no resistance?” asked Kirk.

“That’s right,” said Philana. “A break in the skin or cut can be fatal.”

Parmen cried out, and Philana went to his side as a statue broke. Parmen’s pain was causing his telekinesis to go haywire, and statues were flying across the room dangerously. Kirk and Bones ducked for cover, and Spock pulled (Y/N) down beside him for safety. He wouldn’t see them harmed.

“Fascinating,” said Spock. “Does pain affect your abilities, too, (Y/N)?”

“This is a man acting out because he has no proper control or understanding of his own abilities,” murmured (Y/N), their opinion clear.

Before several statues could hit them, a man stopped them with his mind and lowered them to the ground. He had on orange robes lined with gold. He smiled at the group (at (Y/N)). “Apologies for this. Our king is experiencing extreme delirium.” He extended a hand to (Y/N) to help them up. They didn’t take it. “I am Aristos, and I thank you for your assistance, even with this mishap.”

“This mishap is still occurring,” said Spock, looking around as the room shook violently.

(Y/N) nodded and pressed their fingers to their temples as they felt Parmen’s emotions fly out of control. The Platonians glanced at them as they realized how sensitive (Y/N)’s empathy was.

“Captain!” Kirk’s communicator beeped, and Scotty’s voice came over it. “Captain!”

“Scotty, what’s the matter?!” said Kirk.

“Captain, we’re in the midst of a storm,” said Scotty.

Parmen’s outburst, thought (Y/N). The delirium was more dangerous than they’d thought. They could feel his emotions pressing in around them, and it was aggravating.

“No discernible cause, and I’ve never seen anything like it,” said Scotty worriedly. “There’s ten-scale turbulence, and right now, emergency gyros and stabilizers are at maximum. If this keeps up, Captain, we can’t last.”

“Engines at full speed,” said Kirk. “Get her out of orbit and into space.”

“I’ve tried that, sir. She’s locked tight,” said Scotty.

“Then there’s nothing you can do but batten down and weather,” said Kirk.

“Right, Captain,” said Scotty before the communication ended.

“Parmen’s mind is affecting the Enterprise and the rest of the crew,” said (Y/N). “I’m going to calm him down.”

“Be careful,” said Spock. “It could harm you.” He didn’t want them to be hurt.

“Don’t worry, Spock,” said (Y/N), smiling gently before running up to the dais. Behind them, Alexander began to choke as Parmen’s mind grabbed him, and Kirk ran to help him.

“Let him die!” called Philana carelessly as she held Parmen.

(Y/N) was disgusted, but they pushed their feelings aside to grab Parmen’s mind and force his pain away. It agonized and exhausted them, but Parmen heaved a gasp and collapsed tiredly. Finally, he was still and quiet.

Everyone let out a breath, and Kirk quickly checked on the Enterprise. Thankfully, it wasn’t being harmed anymore.

“I don’t know how we can ever thank you,” said Philana, following (Y/N) down from the dais to where they met with Bones and the others. “Not only for Platonius, but for myself.”

“Indeed. Your assistance was of great help,” said Aristos to Bones and (Y/N). He smiled, and it was blindingly warm, but the want was apparent, and (Y/N) shifted back to Spock’s side. “You were quite talented.”

Spock’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he was tempted to reach around (Y/N) as if he could block them from the Platonians. The way they looked at his t’hy’la—Aristos in particular—was far too similar to the Novisans or Khan. It was want, desire. And Spock disliked it greatly.

“Alexander, show our guests to the South Wing,” commanded Philana.

“We must return to our ship,” said Spock, wanting to get (Y/N) back to the Enterprise and away from the Platonians as quickly and efficiently as possible.

“We do need to wait until Parmen’s fever breaks,” said Bones. “I’ll stick around until then.”

“I believe (Y/N) should also wait,” said Aristos. “After all, they can handle Parmen’s delirium with their empathy. It is impressive as well as helpful.”

“If they stay, I guess we’ll all stay,” said Kirk, acutely aware that he shouldn’t leave his officers alone with these people, not with the interest being shown in them.

“I’ll monitor Parmen,” said Bones.

“I’ll sense if he has problems, and I’ll come back if his delirium grows again,” said (Y/N), deciding to leave with Spock and Kirk. They deliberately wanted to avoid the desire the Platonians had for them to stay.

“Are you certain you do not wish to stay?” asked Aristos. He smiled coyly. “We’ve always wanted to know other psychics with different types of abilities. After all, we only have one. To understand each other more…it could be fascinating.”

“Maybe another time,” said (Y/N) resolutely.

They turned and walked out the door with them to follow Alexander. They ignored the negative emotions their departure created.

Aristos and Philana glanced at one another.

“New psychic powers to join with ours,” said Philana.

“Excitement in the midst of boredom.” Aristos smirked. “And in such a pretty package.”

“I need to get off this planet,” murmured (Y/N) as they walked into their quarters with Spock and Kirk. Alexander walked in front of them, so (Y/N) spoke quietly.

“I agree,” said Kirk. “These people…We can’t trust them. Not when they’ve committed genocide and seem too eager to have us stay.”

“And the additional threat is that it is clear the Platonians have a similar interest in (Y/N) as the Novisans did,” said Spock.

(Y/N) shivered uncomfortably. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened on Novis.”

“None of us do,” said Kirk.

Spock nodded, and he reached out to brush his fingers against (Y/N)’s. He was worried. He didn’t want (Y/N) to be harmed. “We’ll be alright, T’hy’la,” he murmured.

(Y/N) smiled. “Thank you, Spock.”

Alexander opened the door to their quarters. “A-Anything you want, just ask me. Anything,” he said.

“Thank you, Alexander,” said Kirk.

“Oh, think nothing of it, you saved my life,” said Alexander, smiling. Then, his smile fell. “Listen, I think I should tell you that…”

“Tell me what?” asked Kirk.

“Well, just that I never knew that there were people like you,” said Alexander.

“Alexander, is there anyone else like you on Platonus?” asked (Y/N).

“What do you mean like me?” asked Alexander warily.

“You don’t have telekinesis,” said (Y/N).

Alexander smiled. “Oh, I thought you were talking about my size. They make fun of me for my size.” Sadness swept around him. “But, um, to answer my question, I’m the only one who doesn’t have it. I was brought here as the court buffoon. That’s why I’m everybody’s slave, and I have to be ten places at once, and I never do anything right.”

He’s mistreated. Like the non-empaths were on Novis, thought (Y/N). More and more red flags. We need to get out of here.

“How did they obtain the power?” asked Spock.

“As far as I know, it just comes to you,” said Alexander. “They say I’m a ‘throwback,’ and I am, and so are you.” He glanced at (Y/N). “I, uh, I think they like you because you’re a psychic.”

“If it helps, I don’t like them or how they treat you,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “And for the record, Alexander, psychic abilities don’t make someone better than anyone else.”

“Right,” said Kirk, smiling. “We’re happier without it.” Spock nodded.

Alexander smiled, and his emotions warmed. “You know, I believe you are. Listen, where you come from, are there a lot of people without the power and my size?”

“Alexander, where we’re from, size, shape, or color make no difference,” said Kirk. “And whether they have power or anything similar doesn’t matter. They’re all just people.”

Alexander smiled happily, and then he tensed up. The Platonians were calling him. “Uh, s-somebody wants me,” he said as he was pulled from the room.

“Captain,” said Spock. “It will be very gratifying to leave here.” For very many reasons.

“That might not be easy if Parmen dies,” said Kirk, sighing.

“Even if he shouldn’t,” said Spock.

“Yes. This utopia of theirs is one of the best-kept secrets in the galaxy,” said Kirk. “Screening themselves from our sensors, locking us into orbit. All this adds up to a pattern.”

“Not to mention their clear desire for (Y/N) to stay,” said Spock. He disliked the general interest in their empathy and the particular interest of Aristos in them.

“I can feel their emotions,” said (Y/N). “Unfortunately, he’s right.”

Kirk nodded. “We need to find a way to leave.”

“Jim!” A pleased Bones walked into the room. “My concoction actually worked. The fever’s broken. And what recuperative powers! The infection’s begun to drain already.” He was quite proud of himself.

“Dr. McCoy, you may yet cure the common cold,” said Spock.

“If there was ever a time to get out of here, it’s now,” said Kirk.

“What’s the matter?” asked Bones, glancing around.

“The Platonians are reminding us all a bit too much of the Novisans,” said (Y/N).

Bones’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t want a repeat of that any more than the others. “Right. I thought something felt off.”

“Then we’re leaving,” said Kirk. He flipped open his communicator. “Kirk to Enterprise. Scotty, come in.”

“Scott here, sir,” said Scotty.

“Prepare to beam us up,” said Kirk.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir,” said Scotty regretfully. “Everything’s frozen.”

(Y/N)’s blood ran cold, and they reached over to Spock for support.

“The turbulence hit you that hard?” asked Kirk hesitantly.

“It’s not the turbulence, sir,” said Scotty. “Damage to the ship is minimal.”

“What caused it?” asked (Y/N).

“I don’t know. And those are the facts,” said Scotty. “And what’s more, our orbit is locked tighter than ever, and we have no communication with Starfleet.”

“It’s the Platonians,” said (Y/N). They’re cutting us off from escape.

“Ordinarily, I do not approve of ‘jumping to conclusions,’ as they say. However, given the circumstances, I agree with (Y/N),” said Spock.

“It looks like I have to have a talk with Parmen,” said Kirk, furrowing his brow. “Spock, Bones, stay here with (L/N).”

“Got it, Jim,” said Bones.

“Of course,” said Spock.

Kirk nodded, and he walked out of the room.

(Y/N) sighed and sat down, putting their hands on their face. They didn’t want to deal with this again. This was different than the Novisans. At least they were empaths, something (Y/N) understood. This telekinesis, this near mind-control…it was far more dangerous. (Y/N) was scared they couldn’t protect anyone if the Platonians tried to hurt their friends.

“T’hy’la,” said Spock, kneeling in front of them. “We will leave Platonius.”

“These people…they’re dangerous, Spock,” said (Y/N). They looked athim. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Spock’s gaze softened. “T’hy’la—”

The doors opened, and Kirk stumbled back in. Uncontrollably, he kept hitting himself.

(Y/N) tensed. The Platonians had begun to toy with them. And (Y/N) couldn’t stop it.

But they would still fight.

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perpetuelledaydreaming · 2 years

Text

Cruel intentions | chapter eight

summary: honestly tony must've delusional if he honestly thought you would stay quiet and you can kick some ass.

warnings: violence

authors note: I WANT TO GIVE A SPECIAL THANKS TO ANOTHER SUPPORTER ON KO-FI. I've had a really shitty couple of days and it's like my anxiety is awful and yes.

listen to: Good girls go bad - Cobra Starship (playlist here)

word count: 2.4 k

SERIES MASTERLIST + READ NEXT CHAPTER EARLY ON KO-FI!!

When you woke up from your coma, Tony was waiting for you on the sofa next to your bed with Pepper by his side.

Everything ached from your injuries and the lack of movement from the past weeks that you’d laid on that bed, exhaustion settled in your bones -even though you had been sleeping for so long-. Therefore, you had to take a minute before you decided to move again, deep breaths as the burning of your muscles continued for more than what you would’ve liked, it felt like multiple parts of your body were going to break in half.

“Don’t move, y/n,” Tony stated and your eyes locked with his.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Tony so broken. He had cuts all over his face, even stitches above his brows, and a black eye that you recalled seeing at the airport in Berlin. He had deep purple bags under his eyes, which was something your dad would never get, it didn’t matter how many sleepless nights he spent but that never happened to him, his red-rimmed eyes were also an indication that he had been crying and you guessed it was your fault.

It was usually your fault when he was worried and yet, you didn’t recall seeing him so broken at the airport, in fact, you didn’t even recall how you got from the airport to what appeared to be the medical wing of the compound.

“What -Where am I?” you croaked, your throat tied and heavy.

“There was,” Tony stated but he cut himself off quickly. “You were trying to run with Steve and,” Tony swallowed hard. “Wanda was holding the tower and, uhm…”

It suddenly clicked.

You were crushed.

The debris. You were flying to the hangar right behind Steve and Bucky, you were almost there and then everything turned dark, you tried to fight your way under the debris but something hit you in the head and torso and you landed on the pavement. You felt like your lungs were going to explode and although your suit soften some of the debris falling on your body it wasn’t enough to avoid the damage.

You remember Steve and Bucky trying to get you out as your raw screams ricocheted through the walls of the hangar and ripped through your lungs. You recalled Steve’s tears as he realized that he couldn’t get you out without help, you recalled tasting the blood on your mouth and telling Steve to go. You remember Natasha taking your hand and crying too, assuring you that you’d be fine, and then Tony’s screams, those screams were tattooed on you like your scars.

Soon, everything had turned black.

Until then.

“Where’s Steve?” you asked Tony, who shook his head as he looked away. “Are they in jail?”

“No, they aren’t but they are not coming back,” Tony muttered. “And neither will you, y/n.”

You frowned at his answer, your stomach-dropping, the bedroom seemed to be spinning around.

“What are you talking about?” you whispered.

“The suit, the experiment of being an Avenger, it’s over” Tony stated with a tormented gaze.

You felt as if walls were crushing down on you, again.

But if Tony believed you were done, he had to be delusional.

It took you a couple of months, lots of physical therapy, and sleepless nights but nine months after your coma you were back on the streets. No one knew, except for Harley, who suspected your activities but never dared to ask.

If your wild behavior for a couple of months before had any good outcome was that no one even thought about what you were actually doing at night. People believed the worst, that’s what people liked to believe about you, they liked to believe that you were partying, spending your trust fund money on drinks, dresses, and drugs.

Instead, you spent your time working on helping people. You’d spent hours in dark, creeping on the rooftops of buildings with HAPPY letting you know the latest intel on police matters and even white-collar crimes, for the first year you’d decided to go easy and simply give any leads you could hack your way into to the police or even the Avengers. No one realized when a lead came from you and honestly, once they knew how good the tips that you gave them were, they weren’t so concerned with knowing actually who had given it to them. After that you started to actually fight, bank robberies or robberies, in general, were a good training method, seeing if a guy followed a girl home too and even sometimes you kicked the police’s ass when they were abusing their power.

No one ever recognized you and you didn’t even give yourself a name. You refused to speak, you usually wore a black suit like the one Natasha used to wear accompanied by a mask that covered your face, even your hair. You’d reinforced it with some nanobots but the most important feature that you kept from your Iron suit were the gauntlets that you wore.

Which came in handy, especially in the last sixth months.

The last six months had been a ride.

On one of your nights out you’d been following some men that had been following a girl, they seemed like the unfortunately normal cat-callers, but then one took a knife to the girl's throat and forced her to get into a vehicle. You quickly sent flying a microchip that was stuck on the rooftop of the car and followed them carefully by flying out of sight. You ended up in an empty parking lot where other men were waiting. It didn’t take much, you quickly sent the snipper bullets that you had, leaving them injured and on the floor before they could even know what was happening, you’d managed to rescue the girl and take her to a safe place.

When you came back to Stark Tower you spent hours researching, you hadn’t even realized it was the next morning until you heard Tony walking to his lab and you had to hide. You kept surveilling and getting intel, after a few weeks on the dark web you’d found a human trafficking network managed by the Russians on Hell’s Kitchen.

You immediately left clues to the NYPD but after a few weeks it didn’t seem like they were going to do anything about it, they might send it to the feds because of the magnitude of the case but you knew that they were wasting time. Therefore, you decided to take it into your own hands. You’d been busting their trades and even installed an alarm that let you know any reports on missing girls or strange activities in the places that were commonly used for the trade-offs.

Which had ringed again when you were with Peter at the party.

You managed to kiss him goodbye on the cheek before you were bolting out of the apartment and grabbed the suit from the trunk of the car, you quickly flew to a port near Queens, full of containers, where they would usually place girls. You landed softly on one and peeked into the scene in front of you.

There were around ten men carrying six girls, the men were around forty’s or fifties and as HAPPY told you on your earpiece, they all had a criminal history. You cursed mentally as you realized this might be the biggest group you would take on but you didn’t care and less about the scene happening in front of you.

“If you move again, I’ll shoot your brains out,” one of the men yelled at the top of his lungs as the girls screamed in fear and covered themselves, huddling together.

And you decided that it was enough.

“I wouldn’t do that boys,” you spoke and all the men turned towards where your voice came from, they tried to find you in between the shadows but before they could find you, you were firing at them with your gauntlets.

Three of them fell at the same time you heard the other’s guns clicking. In a second, they were firing at you and you launch yourself towards them, dodging the bullets before you landed on the floor with full force and grabbed one of the remaining seven by his upper body while launching your legs to hit one of the men that were behind him with your legs, kicking him to the floor, knocking him out before -thanks to the momentum- driving the one you were holding to the floor, making him hit his head against the pavement.

You continued, raising yourself before firing with your gauntlet at another one that was about to shoot you and then continuing with the guy after him. The man groaned as soon as you jab him at his jaw and then, quickly took his gun, disassemble it quickly and use the tail of the gun to break his nose.

You huffed as you turned around and skipped more bullets, running towards the other line of containers, trying to keep the girls that were huddled together inside the container safe from the bullets. You only had four left but they seemed to be more prepared than the others, you stayed silently behind one container as the screams of agony and pain were filling the air from the other man who seemed to still be conscious after your attacks.

But then you heard another gun clicking and before you could even take a breath, you turned on the corner of the container and found two of the remaining men, you quickly gave a roundhouse kick that knocked one of them unconscious while taking his gun and firing at the other guy's legs, letting him scream as he fell to the floor. You groaned at the sight of blood, if there was one thing you disliked was using guns. You enjoyed the guns that Tony and you had created, they weren’t completely lethal if you used them the right way and although you hated to think about your body count, you knew that it would be dangerous if you didn’t care.

“Can you stop screaming?” you muttered to the man that was already crying on the floor as he held his leg. You quickly ripped the cloth off the other guy's shirt and walked towards him.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” He screamed even louder which only served you to roll your eyes before tapping twice your temple so you could examine the situation on a more in-depth level.

“You didn’t hit any major artery, Miss Stark,” HAPPY said on your ear and you nodded as he pointed to the injury and you saw in detail how it was.

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered before you kneeled down and quickly made a tourniquet on his leg, just in case, before the police arrived and took him to the hospital.

“What are you…” the guy muttered before you were finishing your knot.

“That’s it, you can stop screaming it’s fine,” you grumbled with a sigh. The guy kept staring at you, bug-eyed and confused with your behavior, maybe it was off-putting, the person who had shot you was also the one that injured you in the first place but you didn’t care.

You stood up and started to walk away, trying to find the other two that were missing, you were hoping that they didn’t get away but you knew the members of the mafia, they often didn’t give up.

“Thank you,” he whispered and you turned around with a smirk, although he couldn’t see it.

“You are welcome,” you muttered.

You quickly turned around but you regretted it immediately, you felt your stomach sinking as you gave a step back but the knife still found you.

One of the men with a wicked smile sunk it down on your stomach and you flinched as you felt it tearing your skin and then your insides. You’d been hurt a million times before but you were so used to everything but close-range combat and although yes, you’d been training for over two years now; it was still something you felt off about.

Maybe you were fearful of that, of getting stabbed.

You’d never been stabbed.

Crushed? Yes. Fired at with guns? Yes. Launched into walls and through them? Yes. Grazed? Yes. Fell from the sky? Yes.

You would usually shake those ones off, you would usually understand your body and how long it needed to heal, how it felt when injured in those ways.

But this felt so personal. It felt like seconds turned into minutes that turned into hours as you gazed at the light eyes of the man in front of you. And yet, you didn’t budge, you didn’t gasp or scream at the burn that the knife was causing on your stomach.

Instead, you just felt so angry.

You glared at the man in front of you and before your movements caught up with your head, you had fired the guy in the head, making him launch to the river, pulling the knife away from his stomach as you hissed at the move. Involuntarily you fell to your knees as you quickly put your hand in a fist and the gauntlet sprayed some regenerative liquid on your wound, it was the newest addition to your arsenal, newly developed by you and although you were planning to use it if some girl you’d found was injury, it still served the same purpose. You hoped it would stop the bleeding definitely or enough to fight the guy that remained.

Especially now that he was getting closer to you. You groaned as you stood up and hid under one of the containers as you managed to dodge the bullets that were being filed against you. You wince as they hit the containers loudly and by the bullets falling onto the pavement and the screams from the guy of the leg that was begging his partner not to hit him, you knew he was getting closer.

You took a deep breath as you prepared to fire one shot to the guy's head so he would stop but as you were about to turn around, you heard something, a twhip!

And then a voice.

His voice.

“That’s not how you treat a lady,” someone muttered, the shots started again but to another place, and then you heard again that twhip! And then a groan.

You peeked and there it was.

Spiderman.

***

taglist: @walkintheprk @jeonzll @hoetel-manager @pbeckn26 @novaspietro @ayoelouise

authors note: ok last chapter was a little bit ignored and I’m salty about it but I still can’t believe that people actually liked it. im actually floored that someone actually supported me on KO-FI!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT. THANK YOU SO MUCH. lmk what you think and I always always appreciate feedback. moreover i would appreciate a bunch if you supported me on ko-fi even one dollar makes the difference! thank you so much!

FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS WELCOMED

DONATE: HELP ME WITH MY LAPTOP

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jonfucius · 9 months

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Great Star Trek Rewatch - The Original Series S2

Originally posted on Twitter 26 October 2020 - 2 December 2020

Star Trek: The Original Series Season 2 is up next in my Great Star Trek Rewatch. As with ENT, DSC, STX, and TOS Season 1, mini-reviews will document my progress.

Amok Time: After 29 episodes and some contradictory continuity, we finally get the first concrete details on Mr. Spock and the Vulcan species. A classic fight scene rounds out a strong start to Season 2. 8/10

Who Mourns for Adonais?: A decent early Season 2 entry. The giant green space hand is iconic, but the meat of the story rises above. Thanks to this episode, it became tradition that chief engineers on the starships Enterprise can't catch a break in the romance department. 7/10

The Changeling: A dry run of sorts for the superior Star Trek: The Motion Picture. The second time Kirk talks a computer to death, and it's a slow burn to the climax. 6/10

Mirror, Mirror: One of the most enduring concepts across Trek's 50+ year history is the Mirror Universe. This is still one of the best Mirror Universe tales, simply for its originality and focus. 9/10

The Apple: A Prime Directive debate and some red shirt massacres forms the crux of this otherwise forgettable episode. Definitely not one I'd revist on a whim. Not terrible, just mediocre. 5/10

The Doomsday Machine: This one and "Balance of Terror" jockey back and forth for #1 on my list of the best TOS episodes. William Windom's performance is superb, the titular device is scary (I hid behind the sofa when I watched this one as a kid), and the score is iconic. 10/10

Catspaw: Star Trek and Halloween don't go very well together. Even though this has an ostensibly scientific explanation, it still reeks of magic and sorcery. It is goofy, that's why it gets 4/10.

I, Mudd: This one starts slow but turns into a classic comedy by the end. Carmel is back as Mudd, though the portrayal of his wife is problematic at best. 7/10

Metamorphosis: This poignant love story with a solid sci-fi hook just clicks for me. It’s not the best but it just works. 9/10

Journey to Babel: Season 2 is definitely Spock-focused, and those episodes have not disappointed. This is a classic for good reason: action, pathos, humor, world-building. 10/10

Friday’s Child: Tonal problems keep this one from joining the ranks of the true classics. It’s serviceable but dreadfully slow in the middle. The Capellans are a fascinating race, it’s too bad we don’t see them again. 6/10

The Deadly Years: Impressive 60s aging makeup aside, this one doesn’t do much for me. The old age jokes are stereotypes, though the use of elderly actors in the first act is ingenious. And a rare bit of serialization with a callback to “The Corbomjte Maneuver” is welcome. 6/10

Obsession: Kirk gets some backstory and dimension in a tight, tense script. This is a well-paced acting showcase for Shatner. 9/10

Wolf in the Fold: This would have made for an excellent Halloween episode. A gaseous/energy being is easier to believe than the “Catspaw” transmuter, oddly enough. The line about women being easier to scare, and the Kara dance, are typical ugly 60s sexism, unfortunately. 7/10

The Trouble with Tribbles: A fuzzy thing happens on the way to Sherman’s Planet. A classic that thoroughly earns the title, it’s endlessly rewatchable and filled to the brim with classic gags, one-liners, and scenes for the entire cast. 10/10

The Gamesters of Triskelion: Angelique Pettyjohn’s look is iconic, but not much else about this episode is. A huge letdown after the preceding episode. 5/10

A Piece of the Action: An excellent palate cleanser after the preceding dud. Really wish we could follow up on the Iotians some day. I forgot how funny this episode is. 9/10

The Immunity Syndrome: Season 2 giveth, and Season 2 taketh away. The concept of a spaceborne lifeform is compelling, but this is otherwise a dog of a show. 4/10

A Private Little War: when the show tackles the Vietnam allegory, it sings. When it focuses on Nona, it falters under the weight of 60s’ sexism and bigotry. 7/10

Return to Tomorrow: A different take on the non-corporeal beings trope that hangs around TOS like an albatross, this one is more nuanced and subtle than most. Come for Nimoy’s delightful villain performance, stay for the poignant denouement. 8/10

Patterns of Force: An examination of how easy it is for a society to fall in love with fascism misses the mark by claiming power and not racism was the animus of Nazism, much like Confederate apologists claim the Civil War was about rights and not slavery. 0/10

By Any Other Name: The Kelvans’ powers are frightening, but it’s an episode I just can’t get excited about, except for Scotty drinking one under the table. 6/10

The Omega Glory: Gene, your über-patriotism is showing. Another late Season 2 letdown. 3/10

The Ultimate Computer: TOS has a serious distrust of powerful computers/AI that fades somewhat in the later series. Daystrom is a tragic figure, and the horror of the murder of the Excalibur’s crew is effectively conveyed. 8/10

Bread and Circuses: The social commentary is on point, but two parallel Earth stories in three weeks is somewhat tiresome. Still, an entertaining yarn. 7/10

Assignment: Earth: I’m ambivalent on this back door pilot. I like the Gary Seven character, and I normally enjoy time travel stories, but it just doesn’t do a whole lot for me. It’s not excellent, it’s not bad, it just is. 6/10

And with that, Season 2 of TOS comes to an end in my Great Star Trek Rewatch. Final score: 6.77/10. Highest score(s): "The Doomsday Machine," "Journey to Babel," "The Trouble with Tribbles." Lowest score(s): "Patterns of Force"

#star trek #star trek tos #great star trek rewatch

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terristarstrike · 8 months

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✨🛸welcome to terri's starship pad!✨🛸

it may look absolutely massive compared to the likes of humankind (at least 70 to 100 feet tall), but it's a spaciously comfy home for both humans and jotuzons.

it's here where terrina and meg live on earth, and where bailey visits to revert to her true giant form as bailynn (bailey is still required to live with her stepmother, since she was raised in the human world). terri would plant trees in her backyard, and host some of the terrestrial kids' bimonthly meetings.

this pad is a gated property. not just for privacy, but also a matter of safety, just to make sure no one gets crushed underfoot. besides, giants like her could easily step over the gate. the home has a giant-sized door for jotuzons, and another tiny door for humans.

inside, the jotuzon-sized sofa doubles as a bed and a sofa! and it's also paired to a counter where human guests can make themselves comfortable. on the right of the couch, there's an elevator for human guests to scale the gigantic furniture.

the pad also has five giant-sized rooms for terrina and other giants, include a bedroom and a bathroom, so she wouldn't have to use a waterfall for bathing. she's also brought many of her human artifacts from her closet back on eve el doe to entertain her human guests, and to entertain herself when she shrinks to human level. and at the center of this massive establishment, a little control room for terrina to help steer this mothership into the far reaches of space.

believe us when we say that this starship home might come off as terrifying due to its size, but its a comfy little place for our giant star!

#terri starstrike #terrestrial kids

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anthos11 · 2 years

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CyberSunDay - An evocative portrait of Sunday and the Island, imagined by Chris Butler for an audio recording that appeared on Starship Sofa back in 2010.

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astilbereads · 2 years

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BOOK REVIEW #1

Star rating: ☆☆ / ☆☆☆☆☆

SYPNOSIS

Life, the Universe and Everything begins right after the events of The Restaurant at the End of the Universe.

End of the universe. After 4 years of being stranded on prehistoric Earth, Arthur Dent is met by his old friend Ford Prefect, who drags him into a space-time eddy, represented by an anachronistic chesterfield sofa. The two end up at Lord's Cricket Ground two days before the Earth's destruction by the Vogons. Shortly after they arrive, a squad of robots land in a spaceship in the middle of the field and attack the assembled crowd, stealing The Ashes before departing. Another spaceship, the Starship Bistromath, arrives, with Slartibartfast at the helm, who discovers he is too late and requests Arthur and Ford's help.

REVIEW

I’ll start this review off by saying: It took me ages to complete this book. 21 days. I would read a small amount, and then not pick up the book for days. I ended up rushing myself to get through it in the end since I borrowed it from the library.

Compared to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (which was good) and The Restaurant at the End of the Universe (which was okay), this was just confusing. It felt like such a mix of different ideas that I couldn’t get my head around it. The first 100 pages I was heavily confused, and the next 100 pages I understood partially, but I just wasn’t that interested. At the end of the book, I still had barely any idea what Krikkit even was; all I can recall is that it was a planet that wanted to destroy the universe. Like a lot of other people, this is the book where I start to lose interest. (literally, i was like “huh??? huh??? what the hell is going on, the fuck???” i looked so stupid reading this HELP)

As this is my first review on Tumblr, you may not know my opinions on the other two books, so that’s what I’ll mention. The first book was amazing. The Hitchhikers’ series are books of comedy, and that’s certainly what the book achieves. The book is wacky, it’s fun, it’s entertaining, and you can still understand what’s happening despite all the wackiness. It’s great.

As for the second book, I don’t really remember much. I did laugh at some scenes, but overall it was meh.

So, you may notice that the more I read these books, the worse I say about them. The third book just wasn’t good, I’m sorry.

Because of this, I’m worried about the rest of the series. I heard that the last two books aren’t the same regarding quality. Each time I continue this series, the lower the star review gets (THGtoG being 4 stars, TRatEotU at 3). I’m not sure if the last two books will be the same quality as LtUaE, worse, or better. And I’m not even sure if I want to find out now. My interest for this series has unfortunately depleted.

(though i will always appreciate the mice for making the earth for us, look at them go!!)

(because of this book series i will always answer “42” sometimes to the most random questions.)

BOOK DEPOSITORY:

GOODREADS: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/31847154-life-the-universe-and-everything

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otterandterrierwrites · 2 years

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for you, the shadows fight

What if Bail went to Tatooine and convinced Owen and Beru to let him take Luke to Alderaan with him?

spoilers for Obi-Wan Kenobi

also on Ao3

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The little boy sat alone in the balcony, surrounded by more green and blue than he’d ever seen in his life. There were wonderful things all around him, things he had only seen in Aunt Beru’s holostories, but he only looked down at the floor and sighed. Even the floor was interesting here, and he still didn’t care.

Hadn’t he always begged Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen to take him where those stories happened? To visit any place that wasn’t in Tatooine, where most places looked nearly the same? Finally, they had. Except his aunt and uncle didn’t come with him.

Why had they let the man take him away from them?

Maybe because he was always trying to run away. But he had never wanted to run away from them. He tried to tell them, but they didn’t want to listen. They promised he’d be back soon. They told him they loved him. Were they telling the truth, or just trying to make him feel better?

And now he was here. Everything was nicer than back home. Everyone was nicer, too—not nicer than his aunt, who was the nicest person he’d ever met, but just extra nice. Like they wanted to make sure he would be okay.

But he wasn’t okay. No matter how kind and patient the man with the black and white beard had been. No matter how many reassurances and offers the woman in the black braids had given him. No matter how nice and full of wonders everything seemed here.

He missed home.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

A few paces away, just slightly out of his sight, a little girl was watching him.

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Her father wasn’t home when she finally—finally—made it back. Only her mother had been waiting for her, and she’d hugged the girl very tight, and the girl had hugged her back. She would never try to leave again, never, ever, and she wanted her mom to know. She loved it here. She’d liked seeing new things, exploring a little more of the galaxy beyond Alderaan, even when she’d been afraid. But she didn’t want to leave again if it meant never coming back home.

She’d been upset about her dad. Had he gone after her? What if the bad people got him instead?

But the next day, her dad was back. And he’d brought a little boy with him.

His name is Luke and he’s from Tatooine in the Outer Rim and he’ll be staying with us for a while, he’s your age and I hope you’ll be friends, he likes starships, too.

That’s what her mom had told her.

Is he from the Elder Houses? Why is he coming here? the girl had asked, scrunching up her nose as she thought of her cousin.

He’s not, sweetheart, he just—there’s a problem at home and his aunt and uncle need us to take care of him.

Her mom wasn’t telling her the whole truth, and the girl didn’t like that. People had lied to her a lot recently. She was sick of it, and she just wanted her mom and dad for herself, and to curl up with them on the big sofa with hot chocolate and bang-corn while they watched her favourite holofilm.

Her mom had sighed, and the girl thought she wasn’t going to get any honest answers again, and it made her want to cry.

Because the bad people who got you think that Luke is Special.

Like Ben?

Yes. Like Ben. So we’re going to keep him safe.

The girl had nodded. She’d promised to help look after the boy. To be his friend. And, above everything, she promised not to tell him that he was Special.

She wasn’t going to let any more special people get hurt.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The boy saw the droid first, fluttering towards him and watching him with a big black-and-blue eye. Its curious beeps made Luke smile a little.

The girl trailed behind. She was smiling back.

‘Her name is L0-LA59, but I call her Lola. You can hold her, if you want.’

Luke held his palm up, and Lola perched on it with familiarity, her little domed body swivelling and chirruping in excitement.

‘She likes you!’ the girl said, bouncing on her feet. Then, she held up a hand, and Luke shook it. He liked Lola, too, and he liked the girl. Not just because she was being friendly. He could just tell when people were good. His aunt had always said that made him Special.

‘I’m Leia. Welcome to Alderaan.’

#leia organa #luke skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan show #obi-wan kenobi spoilers #luke & leia #bail organa #breha organa #star wars #owk spoilers #2022 #ficlet #verse: misc au #title is from a florence + the machine song if you can't tell

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ladynox · 1 year

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I posted 8,185 times in 2022

47 posts created (1%)

8,138 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tasyfa

@spcecowboyyy

@beautifulcheat

@maeglinthebold

@infp-obsessing-over-everything

I tagged 6,752 of my posts in 2022

Only 18% of my posts had no tags

#rnm - 1,387 posts

#star trek - 457 posts

#ofmd - 388 posts

#rnm spoilers - 309 posts

#art - 219 posts

#lol - 175 posts

#wwdits - 152 posts

#cats - 146 posts

#lotr - 115 posts

#black sails - 111 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#that poor guy who was accused of cheating on his girl just because he didn't react how a bunch of sofa psychologists thought he should come

My Top Posts in 2022:

i'm still annoyed about max's story. Grossly mishandled when the writers can't pod/kill/kidnap him out of the story, but mostly ignored. and now this finale.... it is utterly ridiculous that max assumed he was gonna go through the stargate alone and was mostly correct. like i'm glad that dallas went with him but it's unbelievable that michael and izzy weren't there to at least see him off. Or, you know, go with him. It's not like isobel doesn't share a psychic connection with max. not like both izzy and michael haven't endured max's chronic martyr syndrome and don't recognize the signs.

one of those signs being max giving his typewriter to michael like he's never coming back. it's just all ooc behavior for everyone. b/c by god the writers want open endings with tearful goodbye proposals, and trucks driving off into the sunset and fireside snuggles, and they are gonna get it.

36 notes - Posted September 7, 2022

Mimi made food for Alex often enough that he had a favorite dish of hers 😭😭😭 Alex learning from Mimi how to make his favorite dish!! 😭😭😭😭 Alex watching Maria mourn Mimi and being unable to comfort her. Being unable to grieve together 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

36 notes - Posted July 25, 2022

See the full post

40 notes - Posted October 8, 2022

As a fantasy and scifi loving latina, I grew up immersed in genres that did not represent me. I don't expect to love every latinx character (i just need them to be well written). But I love to see them there. Piloting starships or killing orcs or developing nonsensical science at the 11th hour.

I can't say where I'm going with this. It's 2am and I'm in my cups and I'm mad about all the hatred Ismael Cardova is getting. All for playing a damn elf in a universe where a flaming eyeball sits on top of tower looking for some lost bling. I'm tired of people getting pissed off because they're so narrow minded they can't see latinx people as anything more than sad stories or dangerous ones. We're people. We envisions worlds of magic and wonder. We're warriors and adventurers and scientists and brujos and magicians and everything you can imagine. And we're not going anywhere.

40 notes - Posted September 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Pike and Erica continue to have the strongest father and child energy. OMG. I love it.

54 notes - Posted June 16, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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desireandduty · 1 year

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Starter for @exitiosae continued from this ask

Luke Skywalker loved flying. There was nothing like seeing the sights whizzing past below them - or even better - being out among the stars on one of the few occasions his family had gone off planet together. Now that he was four years old (such a big difference from being only three), his future was unequivocally decided. He was going to be the best star pilot in the galaxy. Just like his dad. He liked flying alone with Dad best, because then he got to just sit in his lap (Mom always made him sit in a seat and fasten his restraints.) Just yesterday, Dad had let him hold the wheel and help steer the speeder too! Since he was going to be a pilot, he obviously needed to practice flying, and the miniature Naboolian starship he'd been given three days ago for his and Leia's birthday was already his favorite toy. He could spend hours twirling and leaping around the house with his ship in hand, doing his best imitation of the sound of rockets blazing or canons firing while his imagination spun out the rest of the star scape around his little ship. It was more fun when Leia joined in with her own ship. But it was even more fun when Auntie 'Soka came by, because she could really make his ship fly.

So it was that Padme and Ahsoka hadn't been seated on the sofa in conversation for very long, before Luke left Leia behind in the corner of the room and hopped over to stand in front of his "Auntie" with his most sweet and persuasive smile. "Auntie 'Soka!" he exclaimed, holding out his toy starship. "Make it fly!"

From her spot on the sofa, Padme raised an eyebrow at her son. "Luke, is that how we greet our guests? Or ask them for favors?" Chewing his bottom lip now in consternation, Luke considered the two adults for a moment. Then he leaped forward and flung his little arms around Ahsoka's knees (which was as high as he could reach) and hugged her tightly. "Love you, Auntie! Please make it fly?"

Padme was now trying her very hardest not to burst out laughing at his antics. It was an unusual greeting perhaps, but so endearing, just like him. And he had said please, so he'd technically obeyed. She looked over at her friend now to see how she would respond.

#{exitiosae}#{ft: ahsoka tano}#{ft: leia organa}#{verse: sometimes there are things no one can fix}#PADKA RETURNS #alsoooooo skywalker fammmmmmmmm #they all live on Naboo and Anakin didn't turn is all I decided #IDK if the Empire is a thing or not #you can pick babes or we can flesh it out later #and LOL i'll try to write Luke but haha first time ok don't judge

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crones-trash · 2 years

Note

It’s really good news things are moving along with your mobile home. You will be in your new home before the holidays. Pretty much be all moved in and get to enjoy the holidays at your new home and also with family. Will the previous owner install the cabinets before closing? I lived in two different mobile home parks and I loved both of them. I hope you will share pictures when ready. Did you take most of your furniture or are you buying new stuff for your place

I down-sized, never expecting to find a place w/ almost the same square footage as the one I left. Consequently, there's going to be a lotta open space, which is NOT bad. I kept my husband's Steelcase Modular Work Station Modules because they look like a starship command center. No joke. They assemble into a U-shaped arrangement w/ 2 angled-corner workstations attached to 3 tables in 5', 7', & 10' lengths. The work surface is pale mottled grey w/ brushed steel legs & 2 nearly black file cabinets. I plan on putting my computer in one corner & my sewing machine in the other.

I don't plan on having a sofa or a big screen TV. I can stream movies on my large screen monitor or watch them on my laptop in my muted blue velvet recliner.

The walls in the house are already white. I reckon this is gonna look stark until I put up stained wood shelves I packed for my books & decorative objects & cover the walls w/ my collection of framed art. I could also make a statement w/ curtains over the expansive windows. But, I can't decide what statement I feel like making. I'll make up my mind when everything else is in place.

I also kept his bedroom suite w/ SIX pieces, solid honey oak inside & out, which are close to the color of the floors, very 70's w/ rounded corners. That's more than enough to set up 2 bedrooms. In fact, one or more pieces might end up in the living area because I will have nowhere else to put them.

I've also got a dark oak round pedestal table w/ 4 chairs & custom cushions I made for them. And a Danish walnut Mid-Century Modern china hutch to display my collection of Blue Calico china. I'm a person w/ eclectic tastes.

You may notice I don't mention a sofa or side chairs. We never used the ones we had & I gave them to his oldest daughter. When people came to visit, we had extra rolling desk chairs for them to sit inside the circle of our workspace. I'll do the same. Maybe I'll find child-size desk chairs...HA!

#Home Decor

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okierazorback · 9 months

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Matrimonial Log – Star Date 5783.257

“Matrimony… the final frontier. These are the voyages of the Starship Casamiento Segundo, its until-death-do-us-part mission… to explore a strange new relationship… to seek out a new life and new adventures… to boldly go where no sane couple has gone before.” Señora has a common feminine habit of removing her brassiere when she comes home. She lays them in various places: on the sofa; the…

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#bra #brassiere #Señora

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seaphoam-writes · 1 year

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A Father's Duty (8/?)

A Father's Duty on AO3

Summary: An encounter with a quantum fissure leaves Picard with more responsibility than he asked for, but he'll do what he always does—his duty.

Chapter 8

Louis fetches his bundle of drawings and carries them to the coffee table, where he dumps them somewhat unceremoniously onto its surface and then drops to his knees. There, he seems to lose confidence, his expression flattening and his shoulders curling inwards.

Picard sits on the sofa, just to the side, and says, “I noticed a few starships in there.”

A safe place to start, he hopes; Louis’s drawings are records of his experiences, and navigating around the less-than-pleasant ones will be difficult.

Louis slides several illustrations from the stack, and Picard hums in recognition. “Those look like Nebula-class ships.”

It’s the USS Sutherland, the Farragut, and coincidentally, the Phoenix.

Louis holds still while Picard considers his drawings. Aware that it’s unlikely Louis has shown his artwork to anyone besides Data, Picard gives each a thorough and genuine examination, admiring the precise linework, the meticulous coloring, and the overall attention to detail.

“Did you draw these from observation?”

Louis shakes his head. “No, from the computer. Data found the schematics for me.”

“Have you seen any of them in person?”

“I’ve seen all of them. We stayed on the Phoenix for a while.”

Picard briefly considers feigning ignorance of that fact, but decides that lying is not a precedent he wishes to set.

“I watched some of Data’s logs,” he admits. When Louis’s brow scrunches in confusion, he describes finding the isolinear chips in Louis’s bag.

“Oh,” Louis says, and to Picard’s immense relief he doesn’t appear upset that Picard went through his bag.

“For how long did you two stay aboard the Phoenix?”

“A few months. I went to school there.”

Picard barely manages to mask his surprise—he didn’t expect such volunteering of information. Delicately, he asks, “Did you enjoy going to school?”

Louis shrugs. “It was okay. I made some friends.” He smiles suddenly, as though just remembering something. “I got to use the holodeck a lot. They had really good climbing programs.”

Picard smiles back, and repeats what Beverly told Louis back in sickbay. “We have a climbing wall here on the Enterprise. Perhaps you’d like to see it tomorrow?”

“Okay!” Still smiling, Louis turns back to his stack of drawings. The matter of the Phoenix seems closed for now, and Picard has to respect that, has to allow Louis the freedom to discuss his past at his own pace.

Louis shows him a few more illustrations of ships, a star base and a deep space station, then he begins offering portraits, and Picard understands that these are more precious to Louis than the others; there are many of Data, some of people labelled with names Picard doesn’t recognize, and, finally, one of Louis himself with two other boys.

“Are these your friends from the Phoenix?” Picard guesses.

Louis nods mutely. Picard senses the shyness, the hesitancy.

The vulnerability.

“This one must be you,” he says, pointing to the boy in the middle.

Louis captured the hue of his golden brown hair exactly, and—true to life—even made his eyebrows slightly darker. On his left is a boy with deep brown skin and black hair, and on his right…

“This boy looks like a Cardassian.”

“He is.” Louis frowns. “He was hard to draw.” He sounds guilty about it, as if ashamed of his inability to capture the likeness of his friend.

“I think you did a very good job with the—” Picard realizes that he has no idea how to refer to the reptilian ridges or spoon-shaped protrusions unique to Cardassian anatomy, so he’s forced to settle, quite lamely, on, “Facial structure.”

Louis doesn’t reply, merely folds his arms on the coffee table and rests his cheek in the crook on one elbow. Picard continues to regard the drawing, charmed yet again at the attention to detail: hairstyles, clothing, height differences.

“What were their names?”

“Jeremy and Ojim.”

“Would you like to talk about them?”

“No.” A whisper.

Picard places the drawing on the table next to Louis’s hand. “When you have your own room, you can hang this on your wall. That way, your friends will always be nearby.”

Louis’s eyes flick to his, overbright, and Picard hopes desperately that Jeremy and Ojim are still alive, hopes that their deaths are not one of the many losses this boy has experienced.

Gently, he touches Louis’s arm. “If you’re willing to continue, I’m very much enjoying seeing your artwork.”

Louis unfolds himself. “Do you like comics?”

“Comics?”

---

Picard doesn’t realize it’s well past his normal dinner hour until Louis sits back and says, “Père, j'ai faim.”

His own stomach is pinched with hunger but he was too absorbed to notice—the comics Louis mentioned were highly amusing chronicles of interactions between Louis and Data, or Data and others—but now he feels a jolt of panic for not having considered the boy’s needs. Louis scarcely ate breakfast, and that was hours ago; he must be starving.

With barely restrained urgency, he stands. “Would you prefer to eat here, or at Ten Forward again?”

Louis pops to his feet with a spryness Picard envies. “Ten Forward.”

“It’s a little more crowded in the evening, is that okay?”

“Oui.”

Picard crosses to his bedroom. “I’m going to change. Would you like to as well?”

Louis wrinkles his nose. “Do I have to?”

“No,” Picard chuckles. He discards his shirt, creased all over from having slept in it, and puts on a new one. Returning, he notices Louis’s hair is still rumpled. Beckoning Louis over, he attempts to finger-comb it, only to give up and replicate a brush.

“It’s been a very long time since I needed one of these,” he comments. To demonstrate, he runs the brush over his bald scalp.

A giggle bursts—quite literally bursts—from Louis. He puts both hands over his mouth to stifle it, but the sound escapes in a joyous torrent, and Picard finds himself laughing right along with him. He doesn’t know where the foolish gesture came from—perhaps the comics put him in such a mood—but quite frankly he’s glad he did it, if only to hear that laugh.

Eventually they get themselves back under control and Picard uses the brush to tame Louis’s hair; Louis keeps letting out little burbles of laughter, like aftershocks, and Picard’s grinning uncontrollably.

Finished, Picard sets the brush aside. “Come. There’s someone I want you to meet at Ten Forward. A very good friend of mine.”

Guinan.

#star trek: tng #star trek: the next generation #tng #star trek fic #tng fic #star trek #the next generation #picard #picard fic

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fanfic-phoenix · 1 year

Text

Naptime: Chapter One, 7946 C.R.C

Masterpost

Read on AO3

Anakin Skywalker was a Padawan learner. A Jedi-in-training. A future Jedi Master.

This was a relatively recent development. He’d been a slave, then the winner of the Boonta Eve Classic, then a freed slave that no one - except Mister Qui-Gon and Padmé - really wanted around, and now he was Padawan Skywalker, mostly because he was too old, apparently, to be Initiate Skywalker.

And he was glad to be a Padawan. He was! He’d dreamed of being a Jedi since he was little. Really little. He’d dreamed of becoming a Jedi and returning to Tatooine in triumph, lightsaber blazing, to free the slaves and save his mother, and then leaving in glory to roam the stars, to visit every planet in the galaxy and make his mark.

The other kids had laughed at him, called it impossible. But Anakin was a Padawan now. He was a Padawan and that, in Anakin’s opinion, had always been the hardest part of the plan.

Now, he thought, the hardest part was staying a Padawan.

Master Kenobi didn’t like him very much. Anakin could just tell. He barely ever spoke to him unless Anakin spoke first, or when they were working and he needed to correct something. He was alway tense, his shoulders bunched and his fists clenched and his face all scrunchy, and when they ran into other Jedi in the halls, they were always telling him not to clench his jaw so much or his teeth would all fall out.

(The idea of this had concerned Anakin very much, and he’d spent a good few days keeping a careful eye on Master Kenobi’s mouth, until he’d given him a tight, exhausted smile that didn’t quite stretch past his cheeks and told Anakin it was a joke - they won’t really fall out, Padawan, I promise. )

Master Kenobi didn’t like him and none of the other Jedi wanted to train him, so Anakin knew he had to be on his very best behaviour or he’d be back on Tatooine before he could say poodoo.

If he wanted to be a Jedi Knight, then he needed to be a perfect Jedi Padawan and not get kicked out. Perfect Jedi, he knew, were calm. In control. Cool as a dead star, he’d heard someone say, once.

Anakin was not as cool as a dead star. He was hot, far too hot, and sweating like he’d run a mile through the dunes. His hands were shaking madly and fear had hollowed a pit in his chest, making his lungs spasm and his every breath wheeze.

Just a dream. A nightmare he’d already forgotten.

He’d always had nightmares. Ever since he was a baby, basically. Until now, his mother had always been there to wake him, to sit at his side and soothe him, to stroke his hair and tell him that it was alright, that he was safe. That it was loved.

Now he was on Coruscant and she was still on Tatooine, and the only one here was Master Kenobi, who didn’t really like him.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He’d been standing in the middle of the room for way too long, having gathered the courage to leave his room and then lost it before actually knocking on Master Kenobi’s door.

Another reason he wasn’t a perfect Jedi. He wasn’t brave.

Anakin just wasn’t brave enough.

“Padawan?”

He jumped, whipping around. Master Kenobi was blinking blearily at him, hair askew, bedclothes rumpled beneath his robe. He didn’t look angry, just confused.

“Anakin,” he corrected. “What are you doing up?”

He flinched. Master Kenobi froze.

“I’m sorry,” Anakin said quickly.

“Don’t be,” Master Kenobi said, almost as quickly. “ I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Padawans were supposed to be brave.

“You didn’t,” he lied. “At least, not really.”

“Oh,” Master Kenobi said. “That’s… good. That you’re not scared, I mean.”

Anakin nodded. They stared at each other for a too-long moment.

“I- Should we-?” Master Kenobi twisted his fingers in his sleeves. His face was pale, except where his cheeks were blotchy starship red. “Do you want to sit down?”

Anakin went obediently to the sofa. Master Kenobi perched awkwardly on the seat next to him.

“Will you… Can you tell me what happened?”

He shrugged.

“Alright.” Master Kenobi’s hand flicked upwards, as if he was going to tug at his Padawan braid and only remembered at the last moment that it wasn’t there anymore. His hand hung in the air for a moment, uncertain, shivering, until he pulled at his collar instead. “Do you want some tea? Or… Some Hoth chocolate?”

Anakin Skywalker was a simple boy with simple needs. Chocolate, he was learning, was one of them.

“Chocolate, please. Master.”

Master Kenobi nodded, standing up so quickly that he wobbled, and speed-walked into the kitchen. His sleeves kept slipping over his hands - his robe, Anakin realised, was far too big for him.

“My Master…” He trailed off, and Anakin watched as he went back to filling the kettle and reaching up into cupboards, silent and twitchy until he dipped his head and blew out a long breath. “Master Jinn used to make tea if I woke in the night. If I had a nightmare.”

Anakin froze. This was new data. Unexpected. “You had nightmares?”

“I was famous for them,” he said, with a grim little laugh. “Qui-Gon… He was quite worried for a while.”

“Huh.”

The kettle whistled. Mugs rattled. Master Kenobi bustled around the tiny kitchen, far more comfortable making drinks than he ever seemed talking to Anakin.

He placed Anakin’s mug straight into his hands instead of on the table, and sat at the other end of the sofa with his. He seemed a little less tense, swamped by the too-big cloak and cradling his tea in both hands, breathing in the steam.

“I had a nightmare,” Anakin said suddenly. Blurted, really.

Master Kenobi smiled, gently. Even with the tea, it didn’t make it to his eyes. “I guessed. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Can’t remember it.”

“Alright. That’s ok.” Master Kenobi nodded, but Anakin couldn’t tell if he was meant to see that, so he pretended he didn’t. “We can just have tea. And chocolate.”

Anakin nodded and sipped his drink. It burned his tongue, but it was better than doing nothing.

And then, far too quickly, the chocolate was all gone, and he had nothing to distract himself with, and Master Kenobi was still drinking his tea, wrinkling his nose a little as if he’d made it wrong, and suddenly Anakin was asking, “Why don’t you like me?”

Master Kenobi choked on his tea. On another day it might have been funny. Anakin had never seen him choke before, all red and spluttery.

His shock spilled into the Force as he put the half-empty cup on the table, too stunned to remember the coaster. Anakin wondered if he should remind him, if Master Kenobi would be upset about it later.

“Anakin, I…” It came out hoarse. He took a deep breath, cleared his throat. “I do. I do like you, Anakin. Why… Why do you think that I don’t?”

He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t a perfect Jedi and he wasn’t a perfect Padawan, he was Anakin Skywalker and nothing and no one else. He couldn’t control his anger, couldn’t control his pain, couldn’t control anything except the clenching of his own fists. He scowled. “You don’t. You don’t . You never speak to me and you always look… frowny. You’re frowny when you have to be near me!”

“Oh,” Master Kenobi said. Except he didn’t really say it. More he breathed it. His face seemed to crumple in on itself like leftover flimsi. “Oh, Padawan, I’m so sorry.”

Anakin blinked. That wasn’t quite what he’d expected. “Master?”

“I do like you,” he insisted again. “I promise, I do. I was just trying…”

Master Kenobi squeezed his eyes shut and there was no Jedi calmness there, nothing as cool as dead stars, nothing Anakin had ever seen in Master Kenobi before.

“I’m so sorry. I was… I am trying to be a good Master, and I didn’t want you to see that I…”

“That you what?”

Master Kenobi opened his eyes. They were - kriffing bantha poodoo - filled with tears he was forcing back. Not many and he was clearly trying not to draw attention to them, but Anakin was from Tatooine. His eyes were pulled to wasted water like lasers.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Master Kenobi whispered, like he was sharing a great and terrible secret. “I wasn’t supposed to be your Master, it was supposed to be Qui-Gon, and I- I don’t know how to be a Master. Force, I barely know how to be Obi-Wan right now, now that he’s…” He swallowed thickly, blinked rapidly. “But you ended up stuck with me, so I tried to bluff my way through without anyone realising how… bad I am at it.” He offered up a weak shrug. Like, see what I mean? “Turns out all I did was make you feel bad, too. I’m sorry.”

“You…” Anakin felt the realisation like a jolt. The kind of electric shock shiver that told him he’d got the wires all twisted up and wrong. “You don’t hate me. You miss Mister Qui-Gon.”

Master Kenobi managed a smile, and it was miserable. “Desperately,” he said. “This isn’t even my robe. It’s his. I just couldn’t bring myself to give it back to the Quartermaster.”

“You miss him,” Anakin said again. He felt his eyes start to prickly. “I’m sorry, Master. I didn’t know.”

“It’s alright,” he said, reaching over to give his braid a light tug. Awkward, but affectionate. “I didn’t want you to.”

“It’s- You said you weren’t sad about it ‘cos he’s with the Force,” Anakin babbled, “but you were sad about something, and I thought it was having me ‘cos you only took me since Mister Qui-Gon wanted me trained, and I heard you say before Naboo I was dangerous so I thought you wouldn’t want me, and I’m so stupid- ”

“You’re not stupid,” Master Kenobi said, sounding almost angry except that he was crying properly now, tears streaming down his cheeks even though he wasn’t making a sound with it. “You are not stupid, Anakin Skywalker. And I was wrong. Entirely wrong. You’re not dangerous, and you mustn’t ever think that you are.”

So now they were both crying, and it was a real mess, even as Master Kenobi scrubbed his cheeks with his sleeves like every tear had personally offended him.

“Can I-?” Master Kenobi huffed as his voice caught and snapped. Anakin almost laughed at how grumpy he seemed with his own throat. “Can I give you a hug, Anakin?”

Anakin fairly launched himself into Master Kenobi’s chest, clinging tight to his - Qui-Gon’s - cloak, burying his face in his shoulder and taking deep breaths of plants, and fresh air, and so much tea, unable to tell which scents were his Master’s and which were borrowed like the robe.

“I’m sorry,” he was whispering into Anakin’s hair, over and over like a chant, rocking them both back and forwards together, and Anakin thought that maybe he wasn’t the only one being apologised to. “I’ll do better. I promise I’ll do better. I’ll be better.”

“Me too, Master,” he decided. “I promise, too.”

He lost track of the time it took to cry himself out, but when he had, he could feel Maser Kenobi’s shaky breathing. He didn’t say a word, but let go of Anakin just long enough to shrug Mister Qui-Gon’s cloak off his shoulders and wrap it around them both like a big, rough blanket.

“Qui-Gon’s cloaks are always softer than mine,” he whispered, a little gruff, a little like he was about to laugh. “I don’t know how he manages it.”

“Maybe he washed it differently,” Anakin suggested, rather than call attention to his Master’s tenses, and yawned.

Master Kenobi let the little laugh free, even as it creaked, and shifted around until he was lying flat on the sofa. Anakin wriggled until his head was pillowed against Master Kenobi’s chest, rising and falling with every breath.

“Maybe,” his Master said. “I’ll have to experiment.”

Anakin hummed. Just before he closed his eyes, he saw Master Kenobi smile at him, and it finally reached his eyes. The bond he’d been taught to build glowed with the pulses of calm his Master was pouring into the Force.

Master Kenobi was soft and warm, and his heartbeat was a gentle thump in Anakin’s ear, and he was breathing slower and slower, letting Anakin copy, and…

And…

Anakin woke with the sun, wrinkling his nose as he angled his face away from the light streaming through the windows.

His nose did not hit pillow.

He opened his eyes and blinked. Mister Qui-Gon’s cloak was still tucked around him. Beneath him, Master Kenobi was still asleep. Anakin could hear his snuffly half-snores.

Not really snores. Just audible breaths.

“Master?”

One sharp inhale and he was awake. And then smiling again. A small, exhausted, trembling smile, but it was real, creasing the skin at the corners of his eyes. “Good morning, Padawan.”

“You stayed with me?” He knew his eyes were wide.

“Of course,” he said, like it was obvious. “You had a nightmare, Anakin. I didn’t… I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

“Oh.” Anakin considered this, and then settled back against his Master’s chest. “Thanks, Obi-Wan.”

#Phoenix_Rose #kittonafoxgirl #swbb2023 #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padawan anakin

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