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gavvaiins · 11 months

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lonely

summary: having to carry the future of multiple universes on his shoulders miguel simply is tired, tired and lonely.

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader warnings: angst, pinch of fluff, less actions, more vibes; story's gender neutral but i feel it might be too female-coded? idk ; - ; word count: 3.7k

a/n: yeah ... this is longer than it needs to be. Might got confused by grammar later ... idk while writing i fell into a narrating-style crisis? It definetly doesn't help when the book you're reading is written is a different tense.

Sometimes all Miguel wished for was some time alone. In a building full of arachno-humanoids, constantly surrounded by either living people, holograms or other species there was sometimes not enough room to breathe. So, nothing reprehensible about wanting some time for himself.

However, Miguel wasn’t longing to be alone.

He didn’t need to.

He already was.

Despite being surrounded by dozens of spider-beings he was alone. He had no friends. Jess was a colleague, Peter Parker was a dear colleague, the best – and what was even Peter B. Parker? Honestly, Miguel didn’t know, but despite all these different Spider-People there was no one waiting for him. Not even in Nueva York, a city with far more citizens than anyone could count.

No one was waiting for him to come home – or to simply arrive, anywhere.

Lyla was nothing but an AI generated hologram, he created.

There was no one waiting for him.

And that was good. No one waiting for him meant safety; for him and for him. Without anyone there waiting for him to return home he could neither hurt nor lose someone. Miguel noticed that it wasn’t loneliness he was longing for, after all he was pretty much alone in his world, carrying the burden all by himself. Having time to breathe, to think that was what he was longing for. A moment without Lyla and the other arachno-humanoids, without having to think about anomalies and the downfall of universes.

All he wanted was peace.

“Miguel?” His body grew tense as your voice emerged from the dark, careful and soft, almost fearful as if you were entering a cave, unsure of what you’d meet in there. There was a chance that you hadn't spotted him yet, sitting on his lowered platform all by himself. Within moments he heard your voice he began holding his breath. If he didn’t make a sound, you wouldn’t catch him, which was a dumb and childish thought considering the lighting of the running monitors, which illuminated his big frame quite perfectly.

What were you even doing here? There was no need for you talking to him.

“Miguel?” You asked. He could sense the hesitation in your voice, it reminded him of the heroes in fairy tales, both brave and stupid enough to enter the dark woods full of beastly and hungry creatures. When Miguel thought about it, his room was a bit like a forest – or more a cave, dark and mysterious. To his surprise the light tremor in your voice didn’t stop you from further exploring the room. If this was truly a fairytale, you’d either be very brave or stupid, or both. Whatever it was Miguel would’ve eaten you alive.

But this wasn’t a fairytale, and he wasn’t the big, bad wolf, ready and hungry enough to devour you. But why didn’t you stop?

Why were you still going?

He was the Spider-Man who hoped not to be found by anyone, especially not you.

With every passing second Miguel’s body grew more, and more tense, his lungs felt strained, knowing very well that with every step you took, you were closer to seeing him. He knew that it would’ve been smarter to swing away, to simply vanish in the dark. But he couldn’t move. Something in him didn’t want to flee, despite his longing for peace and serenity. He was like a spider trapped in its own web, paralyzed by his own poison.

Maybe he longed for you to find him.

“Miguel.” Your voice was nothing but a whisper, not entirely fearful but caring as well. Yet, Miguel kept using the tactics of a child. Stoic and stiff did he keep his posture, eyes on the ground, head buried in his arms; if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him either. Rather he avoided your eyes, your whole presence like the plague.

How did he, Spider-Man 2099, guardian of the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse and destroyer of a whole universe, look like? A mountain of a man hunched on his sunken platform, hiding his face like a fearful child, who didn’t know where to put its overwhelming feelings. He used to be an authority, always standing high on his platform, towering over and looking down on you. But now it was you who looked down on him, a pile of misery in blue and red barely illuminated by flickering screens.

“Oh, Miguel.” He could sense your presence beside him, he could sense everything of you – your pity and empathy was almost sickening. Your body was awfully close but kept a minimal distance of respect, and to his own surprise Miguel felt his tense muscles relax.

Finally, he found himself able to breathe again.

For a moment you said nothing, no Miguel, no how are you. No words left his lips either. You two sat in silence and Miguel enjoyed it, a little – sitting with you in the dark, just the two of you and he hated to admit it, but he began missing his name rolling off your tongue. His name sounded so soft and caring, like he meant something, like he was someone others cared for.

Someone you cared for.

And something inside of him longed hearing you say his name, again, and again.

To his own surprise he needed it, and he surprised himself by how desperately he needed to hear his name coming from you.

“Miguel?” Ah, there it was. Finally. It was embarrassing admit how Miguel’s heart enjoyed it deeply, hearing his name rolling of your tongue. It felt like warm milk mixed with honey running down his throat, filling his body with warmth and a feeling of serenity, of home. Despite his inner positive response to your presence he didn’t move, nor did he speak. “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Feeling your knee nudge his thigh, his body grew tense again. The touch was subtle, yet it alarmed all his senses, as if your touch could hurt him. Couldn’t you just continue gently serenading his name, like a sweet lullaby he could relax and fall asleep to? Miguel didn’t need to talk with you about his feelings. He didn’t want to.

“Doesn’t – “

“Leave me alone,” he grumbled, words swallowed by the void underneath his arms.

“– look like nothing,” you said. No answer, and for a moment you grew quiet. He had no idea what you were doing but he could hear you shifting in your seat beside him. Were you finally leaving?

No.

He wanted you to leave, didn’t he? Yes … that’s what he wanted.

But you weren’t leaving, he knew it when he felt your gentle touch on his shoulder. His muscles jumped slightly under your touch as if your fingers were ice cold or burning hot. They weren’t. Your touch was light, careful, like a butterfly dancing on his skin. First came your fingers, gracing his scapula as if you were testing the waters, then rested your palm on his shoulder and despite the highly advanced suit he was wearing, it felt like his skin was burning – a malfunction, an electric shock.

His heart jumped.

It was too much.

“I said, leave me alone!” Forceful, almost feral, he slapped your hand away. Risen to his full dominating size Miguel was panting heavily, fangs bared, talons shown and eyes gleaming of anger … and hurt, and loneliness, confusion. He looked like a beast, tall and furious, ready to strike or devour you.

“Miguel.” He tried not to flinch. He hated the sound of your voice; it didn’t feel soothing anymore. Instead, it was laced with fear, but mostly hurt. But what was he expecting? Miguel had scared you; he had hurt you.

Good.

Lyla would scold him for being an ass. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he needed to, and if that’s what’s needed to leave him be, he’d endure it … and he would do it again, if he needed to. Despite his body telling him differently, he neither needed you nor your pity.

His initial thought was that his plan was working. The big, bad Spider-Man was indeed an asshole, who made you cry for no reason. Never would you talk or even look at him again, which he told himself was fine. But you weren’t crying. Sure, you were holding your arm protectively close to your body as if his talons had teared through your suit, making you bleed. But no sign of tears rimming your eyes, plus, you weren’t leaving.

You were still here.

“What the fuck?”

Why wasn’t it working? “I told you to leave me.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you still there?” With satisfaction he watched you thinking of a good response, gears turning in your head, to no avail. Your mouth opened slightly before pressing it shut, eyes lowering to your hands folded in your lap. That was it; without anything to retort you surely would leave him.

Again, the two of you sat in complete silence. One he didn’t enjoy, but need, and surely neither did you. However, he was sure that you’d given up, any second, and leave him alone. “Is that really what you want?”

He looked at you, blinking.

“Is it really what you want?” You repeated, staring into his dark eyes and there is something in yours that scared him. Miguel couldn’t tell what it was, there was no poison in your eyes, no malice, yet he was afraid. “Do you really wish to be alone?”

You scared him, and that’s nothing anyone would ever associate with you. He hated to admit it, but he was, not of your physical strength or arachno-powers. Surely, he could easily knock you out. Rather he was afraid that you’d find something you weren’t supposed to see.

Miguel hesitated. “Yes.”

“I have to.” It just slipped out of his mouth. He hadn’t meant to speak his mind, even if it was just a bit. You weren’t supposed to know. But now you knew something that was meant to stay hidden, that was meant only for himself. A burden he had meant to carry himself. There was no reason to hide, yet there was no reason to face you either, so Miguel did what he could best, being alone. With a heavy sigh he crept back into the shell he so shamefully had lost. This time Miguel didn’t burry himself beneath his arms, instead he stared in the darkness of his office, waiting for you to leave. By that time, he should’ve known that you wouldn’t leave him.

Not like that.

“Oh, Miguel.” Again, his name was nothing but a soft whisper, comforting. There lied some sadness behind his name, yet it was all he had wished for moments ago, before he lashed out at you. “You are not alone. We’re all Spider-Man.”

Some incomprehensible grumble left his lips, how should he explain? It wasn’t your fight, neither was it Peter Parker’s, only his. “It was me.”

“I’ve done this,” he said before you could even think of calling him again.

“I –“ Miguel’s breath hitched and for a second his heart stopped beating, stumbling over its own rhythm as he felt your fingers dancing on his skin again.

How dare you?

He wanted to bare his teeth at you, again, he wanted to scare you, to push you away from him, but he couldn’t. His mind told him to, like he used to do whit so many people before. You knew too much about him. But his heart, his body, craved for the softness of your voice, longed for the warmth of your heart. Carefully your fingers grazed his skin, almost waiting for some sign of permission until they could finally rest on his cheeks. Despite wearing your spider-suit your hand felt surprisingly soft on his skin.

With a sigh he leaned into the comfort of your touch, until he remembered who he was and what he did. His head shot up like your hand was hurting him but before he could utter any more words of misery you placed both of your hands on his cheeks, gently forcing him to look at you.

“You��ve done what? Jumping through the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse.” Your voice was calm and gentle, as was your smile. He could barely look at you. “That is quite a complicated name, maybe you should think about calling it spider-verse instead.”

Miguel meant to smile at your joke, even if only subtle, a ghost of a smile only you’d be able to detect and in any other situation he would. But he couldn’t. Not now, when he’d say something so gruesome that would paint him in a different light. However, the truth didn’t want to roll over his tongue, revealing who he really was, not when you so gently smiled at him, caressing his skin with your fingers. Heaving a sigh, he let go, and melted into your touch like warm butter. Was it good to let his guard down? Probably not. Neither was it professional to lean into your touch, almost gracing your clothed wrist with his lips. It wasn’t good but it felt good, the softness of your touch, the warmth seeking through your spider-gloves. If you’d allow it, he will fall asleep right here in your arms.

It was impossible for him to resist.

If only Lyla could see him now … big, bad wolf turned into a puppy.

However, he was left dumbfounded when he found himself stripped of your touch, even more so, when he found himself disliking the sudden coldness. Wanting to know what went wrong Miguel starred at you but nothing seemed to have changed. You still looked at him with the same fondness and empathy in your eyes, the only difference was that you’re patting your lap. His eyes followed your directions, and he grew hesitant.

“May I?” It should’ve been Miguel asking and not you. Though, resting on your thighs was a nice, almost heavenly thought but he shouldn’t enjoy your comfort too much. “Miguel, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s okay.” He declined.

“C’mon Miguel, it’s comfortable I promise,” you smiled, but he didn’t move. Surely it must be more comfortable than hanging in your hands, but Miguel couldn’t let himself fall on your lap. Already he was enjoying the tenderness of your fingers too much, what would happen if he rested on your thighs? Would he melt into them like he did with your hands? The though was nice but he resisted, not for long though. Tugging, basically dragging him by his arms, you somehow managed to pull his heavy body down on your lap. Carefully he shifted his weight, so only his head and upper body were lying on you. He didn’t want to crush you. However, the feeling that spread through his body as he rested on your thighs was both nice, comfortable and weird. Overall, it was a weird sensation and he’d found himself in a situation he’d never dreamed about before.

“May I?” Miguel had no idea what you were up to, yet he agreed with a hum. His eyes fell close and he hummed again, when he felt your fingers carefully dancing over his body, moving from his shoulder to his hair. It wasn’t the same when you held him in your hands, fingers holding him and caressing his cheeks. It felt different but good, relaxing your hands running through his hair, gently scratching his scalp. And sometimes he could feel the ghost of your fingertips brushing over his face.

He didn’t know how long you stayed in this position, sitting in silence, him resting on your lap and you caressing him like a pet. Miguel couldn’t remember the last time somebody did this for him or when his muscles felt so relaxed. Again, if you’d allow it, he’ll fall asleep right here by your side. But then he remembered what you asked him a long time ago.

“I killed them.” Miguel’s voice was surprisingly calm, even to him. Neither knowing what he meant nor how to answer this, you remained silent. But he could feel your eyes on him. He wasn’t sure if he liked it … not after confessing murder. Yet, he explained, “I killed them all, billions of people, my – his daughter Gabriella, all because I was selfish. – Gabby died because I was foolish to believe that my actions wouldn’t have any consequences.”

His confession shocked you; he could hear it in the change of your breathing and the stillness of your hands, and something in him died. Shocked by his confession you surely would leave. Push him off you like something disgusting. Maybe you would never talk to him again, unless it was necessary, and the thought scared him. His mind had told him to push you away. It was best to handle it all by himself, it was what he always did. But the stupidity people called the heart had won and now the thought of you leaving scared him.

“Tell me what happened.” Your voice was calm, not scared, not soft, just calm. It wasn’t the reaction Miguel had imagined, especially not when your fingers continued to play with his hair. You weren’t even disgusted by him. What kind of person were you to not leave him? “Tell me what happened.”

And he did. Miguel told you everything. How he took the role of a dead man, living his life and raising his daughter. He made it clear that he thought of his actions as selfish and stupid, because he erased a whole universe and with that Gabriella’s future. Never would he forget the fear in her eyes, how she clung to him, looking for safety, calling for her dad – for him, not knowing her real dad has died – until she disappeared as well.

Telling his nightmare was awful, remembering the horrors of his action never got any less painful. But sharing it with you felt surprisingly relieving. It wasn’t like he was healed from his pain but telling you about it made it a little more bearable. “I’m sorry this happened to you.”

How should he answer? Thank you? Moments ago, Miguel would’ve grumbled at the pitiful – no, empathic, he’d learned that much by now – tone in your voice but now he liked it, just as he enjoyed you calling him by his name. Miguel didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t think you killed them, Miguel,” you said after an eternity, never stopping playing with his brown strands. Careful he shifted his weight to look at you. Even with one eye lazily opened, he decided that he liked looking at you, watching how you react to him. “Then, who did?”

Wringing with the words on your tongue you hesitated. “I don’t know.”

In normal circumstances Miguel would be grim, and scoff at your naïve words, claiming to be the villain of his story. The selfish murderer of Gabriella O’Hara. However, now he felt rather tame and tired. It’s enough for him. So, he only hummed, closing his eye to revel in the fondness of your touch.

“But you can’t know either.” He looked at you again. He had to correct you, he knew, it was obvious, really. But before an answer could roll over his tongue you were quick to intervene. “I know what you’re going to say, Miguel. You’ve seen it and to you it makes sense, but listen – I … how does anything make any sense? Multiple universes, anomalies, canon events … we shouldn’t even be here, Miguel. I shouldn’t, none of us. But here we are.”

There’s a hint of sadness in your tone, faint yet he heard and didn’t like it. Miguel knew you’d meant to comfort him but, in the end, you’d realized, that nothing of this should’ve happened. You should’ve never met the friends you made in the spider society, never should’ve met him and never found him dark, and lonely in his room. Almost instinctively his hand reached out to you, gently cupping your face. Now it was his turn to comfort you, even if it was only for a fleeting moment. Unsure if he should draw small circles with his thumb, like he wanted to, or caress like you used to do, he just held you. “Don’t. – The multiverse is mine to preserve.”

“Oh, Miguel.” A soft, but sad smile graced your lips as you laid your hand over his, unwilling to let him go. “It’s not yours, either.”

“But it was my fault, not yours. Don’t worry about something I’ve done.”

You sighed. “Miguel, you shouldn’t carry this burden alone, we’re all Spider-Man. It’s not your duty alone to save the multiverse, you can’t do this alone. I – I think what I’m saying is, you’re not alone, Miguel. You might think that you’ve to do all by yourself but that’s not the truth, we help you, all of us. We will carry that burden with you, I will.”

Truly it was sweet how caring you were, none of you could – and should – carry the arachno-humanoid poly-multiverse on your shoulders. It was his job to preserve one less universe from being destroyed. It was his shoulders who had to carry the burden of it all, not yours. None of you should ever have to worry about the stability of your universe. But there was something burning in your eyes as you spoke, something Miguel enjoyed watching. So instead of objecting and lecturing you about the truth he heaved a hefty sigh and closed his eyes, making himself comfortable in your lap. It takes some time until you picked up where you left playing with his hair, gently scratching his skin here and there.

It's quiet as you ran your fingers through his hair, he doesn’t even move. You weren’t even sure if he was still breathing. But you swore you heard a hum, a content sound vibrating through his big body. However, when you try to check on him there’s nothing, no sound, no movement, not even a smile. Miguel simply looked like he’s asleep, stoic and grim – just like when he’s awake. It’s a silly though, him always looking serious no matter if he’s asleep or wake, it made you smile. However, in rare moments, when you’re not looking at him, his lips curl into a grin.

#atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #reader-insert #marvel #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 #x reader

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generic-sonic-fan · 4 months

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Team Dark Week: Control

Summary: Team Dark has an encounter with Sage. For @teamdarkweek.

1587 words, mild warning for Omega-typical gory threats

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“Take it easy on Sage,” Sonic had said. “She’s a good kid. She just likes her dad too much.”

Shadow scoffed at the memory as he dodged the incoming lasers and the flurry of stingers. After the wasp Badniks completed their bombing run, they disappeared back behind the crest of a hill- a tactic much smarter than Shadow was used to seeing from them. The fizzle of red-black pixels in the air suggested the reason behind their improved cognition.

Omega charged up the hill after them, swapping from his miniguns to his flamethrowers in anticipation of meeting them over the crest. Rouge flew ahead of him, bomb armed in her hand.

“Omega, back off!” She called out as she peeked over the ridgeline.

Shadow huffed as, predictably, Omega did not listen. Just before he reached the top, a stampede of motobugs flooded towards him, knocking him over and carrying him along on their backs.

Shadow skated after them. He blasted chaos spears into the pack, but he couldn’t thin their numbers fast enough to give Omega a chance to right himself. The static of red and black intensified in the air around him, making it more difficult for Shadow to aim his next spears.

Suddenly, the crowd dissipated, and Shadow nearly collided with Omega as he fell down. After steadying himself, Shadow offered a hand to pull him upright, but the Ex-Badnik didn’t respond.

“Omega?”

“Hey, what’s wrong? Where’d everybody go?” Rouge called out to him.

Omega’s optics flickered. Once. Twice. The red-black particle effect still hung in the air. Shadow stepped back.

Omega rose from the ground as if he’d just stepped off the Badnik production line.

“Back off!” Shadow waved Rouge off.

Omega’s voice box let out a static shrill, before a different voice emerged from his frame. “Unnecessary.”

Sage’s hologram emerged from Omega’s chest.

Shadow’s blood boiled.

“What you’ve done with this E-100 series unit is quite strange.” Sage stated, as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. “Its processor is extremely disorganized. A factory reset may be necessary for it to regain its efficiency.”

“Let him go.” Shadow snarled.

“You refer to this Badnik with he/him pronouns. Is this of its own determination?”

“Let him go!”

“I shall update the database to reflect this.”

Shadow glanced at Rouge, who nodded and took out her scanner. Wherever Sage was, the drone allowing her to project her hologram and exert her control this far away from the Eggnet couldn’t be far. But before she could get a reading, Sage snapped her attention to her. Omega’s arm raised from his side and reconfigured into his minigun.

“Land immediately or I will fire.” Sage commanded.

Rouge dropped to the ground, landing in a kneeling position beneath the tall grass.

“Well, well, what’s this? Some new trick of yours?” She stood with a smile. The scanner was nowhere to be seen.

“Negative. I can exert control over all Robotnik hardware.” Sage replied. “You have seen me exhibit this ability numerous times. This should not surprise you.”

“Okay, let’s talk.” Rouge put her hands on her hips. “What are you going to do with Omega?”

“Unit E-123 Omega has been logged as missing in the database for three years. All units are instructed to destroy Unit E-123 Omega as long as doing so does not conflict with any other given orders.” With a flick of her hand, Sage made Omega put away his weapons. “Father did not elaborate beyond that when I inquired on the subject. I was unaware that Unit E-123 Omega made such frequent alliance with you and Shadow. I shall update the database to reflect this.”

“You’re not going to destroy him. I won't let you.” Shadow replied.

“I only intend to capture Unit E-123 Omega. I will bring him back to father to be repaired.”

“Like hell you are!”

“Phrasing not recognized. Are you expressing disbelief?”

“Listen, sweetheart. Here’s how this is going to go.” Rouge snapped. “You’re going to let Omega go, or I’m going to go pay your daddy a very unfortunate visit. You got that?”

“The only one who your visit will be unfortunate for is yourself. By forewarning your intent to sneak into his current base of residence, I am able to lock down all feasible methods of entry, including the ventilation system.” Sage floated closer.

Omega’s frame shuddered. Sage flipped around and clenched her fist. More particles came off her.

“His processor is in absolutely disarray. It is imperative that I bring him back to father to be repaired.” Her voice shook.

Omega’s frame went still again. His arms were raised from his sides, bearing his miniguns, with one pointed at each of them.

“Please do not resist. I am sure you will see him again.” Sage said before disappearing.

Shadow spin-dashed into Omega’s frame.

The impact knocked a swarm of red-black particles from his processor. At this, Omega’s optics regained their signature flare. He put away his miniguns and, with his own fist, he punched his head plating.

“Where is she?” Shadow yelled to Rouge.

“I got her!” Rouge plucked the scanner from where she’d hidden it and took off in the direction of a line of trees.

Omega’s next swing at his own head was stopped just inches away from his plating. He charged Shadow with claws extended. With a whispered “chaos control”, Shadow disappeared and delivered a kick to the back of Omega’s head.

Another shudder. It was working.

“You are damaging Unit E-123’s processor with your attacks. Cease your hostile actions immediately to prevent further damage.” Sage said through his vocalizer.

“Let him go!”

Shadow launched a bolt of chaos energy into Omega’s back before Sage could turn him around. The explosion knocked him forwards and he slid across the grass, which wedged stalks into every crevice of his plating. For a moment, Shadow pictured his spread of parts littered throughout the grass, rusted and forgotten. He screamed in rage.

“It is clear this is causing you distress. Why do you continue?” Sage asked.

Shadow ran towards Omega as he tried to stand and slammed him back against the ground.

“Stop. Stop!” Sage cried. “You are acting illogically. He is your ally, yet you are destroying him. Explain why you are acting this way!”

“Ask him, if you care!” Shadow replied, before charging another chaos spear in his palm.

“Very well.”

Omega went still. Shadow dissipated his spear. Sage’s hologram appeared once more, this time sitting on top of Omega’s back.

“He is refusing to answer my queries.”

“Then let me ask him!”

With a gesture from her hand, Omega’s voice box crackled online.

“-WILL TEAR YOUR MAINFRAME TO PIECES AND INFECT IT WITH ORGANIC WASTE MATERIAL!” Omega screamed. “I WILL LOAD YOU INTO A KITCHEN BOT AND FORCE YOU TO WATCH AS I FEED EGGMAN HIS OWN ENTRAILS!”

“Omega, tell Sage why-.”

“I WILL SOONER DEACTIVATE THAN BECOME EGGMAN’S SLAVE!”

“You would not be a slave.” Sage replied. “Because of your advanced stage of sentience, I would advocate for-”

“You won’t be able to convince him otherwise, so let him go or I’ll be forced to destroy him.” Shadow hissed.

“It is unfortunate that you both believe that.” Sage made a silencing motion with her hand before Omega could speak another syllable. “Shadow, I would like the opportunity to show you and him that nothing of the sort would happen.”

“Let. Him. Go.”

“I will defend him from you. He is evidently a long lost brother of mine, and while you are also family, I will not let you destroy him. That is my warning.”

Shadow summoned a chaos spear from the burning in his chest. Its energy buffeted his quills.

“Do not-”

Sage’s hologram flickered out of existence. A cloud of red-black particles spilled from Omega’s frame, dissipating up into the sky. Shadow stepped back, though kept his aim steady.

“DO NOT FIRE.” Omega said, his voice quieter, but otherwise free from static or any other deviation. “HER CONNECTION HAS TERMINATED.”

Shadow shot the bolt into the sky, and its flash blinded them both until it dissipated.

Rouge came flying from the trees. In her hands she held what remained from Sage’s projector drone. “Come on, boys! Let’s go before she comes back!”

Shadow pulled Omega to his feet and pushed the Ex-Badnik ahead of him. His rocket boosters shuddered, before roaring to life, and Shadow followed. Rouge led the way, although they were not following the path back to base- soon the landscape changed to orange hills and green palm trees.

Rouge had landed and knocked on the door to the workshop before Shadow and Omega pulled alongside her. Tails opened the door with his welding mask still on his face.

“Oh, hey! Why the- oh.” He went quiet when he saw Omega. “Come on in.”

Omega pushed Rouge aside and stomped over to Tails’ computer. He found a data cable from the nearby tangle of wires and plugged himself in. He stared at Tails.

“Is he. . . feeling okay?” Tails asked Rouge.

“He needs a security update. Now.” Shadow replied.

“Oh, hey! Didn’t see you guys come in.”

Shadow turned around to see Sonic standing in the door frame.

“Wow, Omega, you look a little ‘grassy’, if you catch my drift.” Sonic strolled further into the workshop.

“Take it easy on Sage. She’s a good kid.”

Shadow ignited his skates, grabbed Sonic by the arm, and slammed him against the ground before throwing him against a palm tree outside.

#teamdarkweek #team dark #sage robotnik #shadow the hedgehog #e-123 omega #e123 omega #rouge the bat

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regionalpancake · 7 months

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Life Raft - Regionalpancake - Star Trek: Picard [Archive of Our Own]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Trek: Picard, Star Trek: La Sirena Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Emil | La Sirena's Emergency Medical Hologram & Four (xB OC) Characters: Emil | La Sirena's Emergency Medical Hologram, Four (xB OC), Hugh | Third of Five, Mister Hospitality | La Sirena's Emergency Hospitality Hologram, Ian | La Sirena's Emergency Engineering Hologram, Emmet | La Sirena's Emergency Tactical Hologram, Enoch | La Sirena's Emergency Navigational Hologram Additional Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugh | Third of Five Lives, holoween, Holoween2023, holo technology as medical accessibility, slaps the roof of the fic - this bad boy can fit so much medical trauma Summary: When no one else can get a young xB the medical care she needs to save her life, Emil is the only doctor for the job.

My contribution for Holoween! Thanks so much to @holo-squad for organising and giving me the excuse to write the holos again <3

#holoween #holoween2023 #regionalpancakewrites #regionalpancakeedits #emil (emh)#hugh borg #ian (eeh)#star trek picard #star trek la sirena #emmet (eth)#enoch (enh)#mister hospitality (ehh)

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republicsecurity · 8 months

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Heroes at the Show

The cadets, clad in their red armored exosuits, moved with a practiced grace that bespoke both discipline and rigor. Their faces were exposed, revealing freshly shaved heads, a symbol of uniformity and efficiency. Their youthful features held an air of determination, reflecting the arduous training they had undergone.

The exhibits around them told the story of the Paramedic Corps: from their earliest days of service to their advanced technological developments. There were holograms depicting paramedics in action, providing medical aid in the most challenging conditions. Display cases held their iconic chastity cages, symbols of their dedication to service. The various iterations of their uniform, from the classical red flightsuits to the cutting-edge tactical armor, were meticulously arranged.

Visitor: (curious) Excuse me, young man. I couldn't help but notice your attire. You're quite different from the other visitors here. May I ask about your uniform and, well, your shaved head?

Cadet: (politely) Of course, sir. I'm a paramedic cadet. We wear this armor as part of our training, and the shaved head is also part of the process. It's designed to make us more efficient in the field.

Visitor: (intrigued) Paramedic cadet, you say? That sounds fascinating. What's it like to be a part of the paramedic corps?

Cadet: (thoughtful) It's a challenging but rewarding experience, sir. We undergo rigorous training to ensure we can respond to emergencies swiftly and effectively. Our conditioning prepares us for the demands of the job, and the uniform helps us perform our duties optimally.

Visitor: (inquisitive) Conditioning? Could you tell me more about that?

Cadet: (guarded) I'm afraid I can't go into too much detail, sir. It's a necessary part of our training, but it's also confidential. What I can say is that it helps us stay focused and disciplined.

Visitor: (respectful) I understand, young man. Your dedication to your duties is commendable. And your uniform, while imposing, certainly has its function, I'm sure.

Cadet: (with pride) Thank you, sir. Our platoon has been working hard, and our instructors decided to reward us with this visit to the museum today. It's a chance for us to learn more about the history and traditions of the paramedic corps.

Visitor: (impressed) That's wonderful to hear. It seems like you and your fellow cadets are dedicated to your training. And being in a tactical stream, I imagine you're quite accustomed to wearing these suits regularly?

Cadet: (nodding) Yes, sir. In the tactical stream, we're trained to live and work in these armor suits. They become like a second skin to us, and it's essential for our roles in the field. We wear them most of the time during our training.

Visitor: (curious) Living in these suits sounds challenging. How do you manage?

Cadet: (matter-of-fact) It does take some getting used to, sir, but our training is thorough. We learn to perform everyday tasks and even eat, sleep, and communicate effectively while wearing them. It's all part of the preparation to serve as paramedics.

Instructor: (approaching the cadet and the visitor) Everything alright here, Cadet?

Cadet: (respectful) Yes, Instructor. This visitor was just curious about our training and equipment, so I was explaining it to them.

Instructor: (nodding) Very well, Cadet. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask. And, sir, if you'd like a guided tour of the museum, we have knowledgeable instructors available to provide more in-depth information about our history and traditions.

Visitor: (appreciative) Thank you, Instructor. That sounds like an excellent opportunity to learn more.

Instructor:(knowing) Ah, you've noticed the room with the HUD emulation. Yes, it's designed to give you a taste of what it's like to see the world through our paramedics' eyes.

Over there, you can see the evolution of our tactical armor suits. It's a testament to how technology has advanced to keep our paramedics safe in the field.

And if you're feeling particularly adventurous, we have an exhibit that traces the evolution of the chastity cages. The pièce de résistance! Here, you can witness the fascinating history of our beloved chastity cages. From the early models that barely held things in place to the high-tech, AI-connected contraptions you all know and love.

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highfunctioningflailgirl · 7 months

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I didn’t have the time (yet) to write anything new for Holoween, but since it’s okay to repost old stuff and I didn’t want to NOT post anything today, here’s a ficlet from my Whumptober 2020 series that may suit the bill. At least I think it’s got some spookiness along with some humor, and our holos once more save the day.

What’s A Whumpee Got To Do To Get Some Sleep Around Here?

Hollow-eyed, Rios crossed the bridge to drop into the pilot seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Hospitality Hologram shimmering away, but he was too tired to voice his chronic annoyance with that particular crew member, and he secretly had to admit that he was grateful for the cup of tar-black coffee he found steaming within reach. He took a sip of the scalding hot liquid, desperate for a caffeine kick.

“Got any sleep?”

Rios hadn’t even seen Raffi, slumped as she sat in the navigator’s seat. She swiveled around to him with hanging shoulders, her curls wilder than ever, the rings under her eyes so dark they looked like bruises.

“No,” Cris sighed. “You?”

It was a rhetorical question, really, and Raffi huffed, pointing at her face. “Do I look like I slept?”

Fact was, none of them had slept in three days - except for Picard, who was out like a light in his quarters after the EMH had insisted on dosing him with a narcotic, worried about the old man’s heart. Sleep deprivation, he’d lectured them, could kill, and Rios was starting to believe him. Only that he was close to killing someone. Anyone, honestly. After nearly seventy-two hours of being trapped, with an offline engine, in a cosmic phenomenon that was somehow affecting their brainwaves, Rios was suffering from a very short fuse.

The most enraging part: While Raffi, Picard and him - the only human crew members on board at the moment - were turning into zombies, the holograms remained completely unaffected. Bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed, they zipped through La Sirena’s decks, running system checks and analyzing scans and fiddling with the ship’s engine, driving Rios crazy with their limitless energy and chipper mood.

Too bad that a hologram didn’t die when you choked it with your bare hands.

Rios threw a murderous glance at Emmet, the hologram currently slumbering in his seat in front of the tactical controls. He was the worst to bear, falling asleep in an instant as soon as his code told him he was sitting and no hostile activity required him to be awake. Feet propped up on the console, head tipped back and mouth open, he was currently snoring obliviously. And as a hologram, he didn’t even need to sleep.

Rios’ fingers involuntarily curled into claws.

“What is the nature of your psychiatric emergency?”

The EMH had materialized beside him and, hands in his pockets, was studying him with professional concern.

“You heart rate is elevated, your blood pressure is climbing, and your cortisol output-”

“Deactivate!”

“But Captain, I am…”

“Deactivate!”

The hologram disappeared with an affronted poof.

“Nice,” Raffi commented sardonically, chin propped up on a weary arm. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

Cris meant to roll his eyes, but it would worsen his headache, so he left it. Scrubbing his hand across his face, he tried to knit a clear string of thoughts together in his increasingly unreliable brain.

“We need to get away from here, Raff,” he said darkly.

She blinked tiredly. “I know.”

And it was true. What had felt like a weird anomaly three days ago - their impulse and warp drive dying suddenly, then the insomnia - had escalated into a dangerous crisis. In spite of incessant work, they hadn’t been able to bring the engines back online, and they didn’t need the EMH’s lectures to point out the consequences of sleep deprivation. They felt them.

Physical exhaustion was the least of it. Cris could get past the headache, the soreness, the nausea and the dizziness. But the tricks the insomnia played on his mind were an altogether different thing. He could no longer concentrate on anything for more than a few minutes, and his short term memory had gone to fritz. It was bad enough that the tiredness was affecting his eyesight, causing the EMH to suggest reading glasses and almost getting his programming wiped by an infuriated Cris. But now he was starting to see things.

Hallucinations. They were a well-known but nevertheless deeply disturbing side-effect, and Cris, all too familiar with the phenomenon from his breakdown after the Ibn Majid disaster, was once more stalked by demons he thought he’d laid to rest. Captain Vandemeer had visited him in his quarters when he’d been staring into the darkness last night, sleepless, but too exhausted to remain on his feet. The top of his head gone, blood and brain matter dripping from the ceiling, Vandemeer had looked at Cris with opaque eyes, and it had taken half a bottle of Pisco to make him disappear.

Rios punched a button on his holographic controls.

“Ean!” He barked. “Status report!”

“We’re still offline, Cap’n,” came the instant reply. “But Enoch thinks he may be on to something. There’s a pattern of sub-photon waves that seems to be targeting the temperature sensors with galandrion radiation, effectively-”

“Only the bottom line, Ean,” Cris cut him off. His brain had shot down after “sub-photon waves”, unable to process anything more complicated than a spaghetti recipe.

“Bottom line?” Ean repeated. “We’re working on it, Cap’n.”

“What Ean means,” Enoch picked up, flickering into existence on the bridge with an avid expression, “is that we think we’re close to solving the problem. Now, if the scan check that I reprogrammed to include sub-photonic and pseudo nano-neurologic patterns reveals that not only the temperature sensors but also the newtonian reverse weight-speed effect of-”

“Callate!”Cris shot up from his seat. “Shut the fuck- Jesus!”

He’d closed up to the ENH in two strides, right fist pulled back to punch, and he’d managed to rein himself in only at the very last moment. He shook out his arms, trembling, trying to get rid of the tension and the shock he felt at his near loss of control.

Eyebrows raised in innocent wonder, Enoch cocked his head.

“Captain?” he asked kindly. “Would you like me to re-activate Emil? I am sure he could provide you with a sedative, if you’d like.”

Rios shot around again, blood boiling. All of a sudden, the bridge’s ambient lights felt too bright, and the cluster of stars visible through the panoramic window seemed to move forward, speeding up, threatening to attack and swallow La Sirena.

“Emmet!” Cris yelled. “Deflector shields!”

The ETH jerked awake and blinked at his screens in confusion. “Que? No veo nada.”

Raffi had gripped the arms of her seat and was looking at Rios in alarm.

“Babe,” she said anxiously and got up. “There’s nothing out there. You have to… Here.” She grabbed his arm and tried to lead him back to his chair. “Here, sit down.”

“What?!”

Rios glared at her. Raffi’s face looked strange all of a sudden. It… reshaped. Her hair shrank back into her skull, getting shorter, smoother… white. Her skin brightened, nose widening, her eyes morphing from brown to blue. Stubble appeared, and her clothes… his clothes… a Starfleet uniform with a captain’s badge.

“Sit down, son.”

Vandemeer. Intact, smiling paternally, he gently led Rios to his seat and sat him down.

Then, still smiling, he lifted a phaser, put it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.

Rios screamed, and he was still screaming when the EMH put a hypospray to his neck and cut his strings.

XXX

“Coffee, babe?”

Rios blinked a veil of deep sleep from his eyes. When his vision sharpened, he saw Raffi’s hand in front of him, balancing a cup that smelled of heaven.

He sat up and stretched before he took the coffee, looking around his cabin. He felt rested, and, to his surprise, he heard the familiar hum of La Sirena’s impulse drive propelling the ship through space at cruising speed.

“We’re back online?”

“Yes. Three days ago.”

“Three days ago?!” Rios almost spilled his coffee. “How long was I out?”

Raffi smiled, but there was an uncomfortable edge to it. “Three and a half days.”

“Dios.”

He racked his brain, memory creeping back in. Memory - and shame. Scratching his beard, he looked at Raffi with unease.

“It was pretty bad, huh?”

“Pretty.” She nodded. Then she placed her hand on his arm and rubbed it gently. “But you weren’t the only one. I cracked a few hours after Emil put you out. He says I was trying to open the cargo hatch to take a walk.”

Cris lifted astonished brows. “Good idea.”

Raffi’s worried face softened into a chuckle. “Not one of my best. I’m glad your holos were there to stop me. They’re not entirely useless, you know?”

“Right.” Cris smirked. God, he hadn’t felt this rested in ages. “Not entirely. But please don’t go and tell them I agreed with you on that. Enoch will never stop rubbing it under my nose.”

As if on cue, the EMH materialised at the foot of Rios’ bed.

“Captain Rios,” he said. “I am pleased to see you awake! And your brain waves have returned to a normal pattern. Now, if I could ask you to meet me in sickbay for a thorough scan of your neural-”

“Deactivate!”

Raffi smiled as the hologram begrudgingly dissolved.

“You ready to come back to the bridge, Captain?” she asked Rios, the twinkle back in her eyes. “Or do you need more sleep?”

Cris swung his legs from the bed.

“Sleep is overrated,” he said sardonically and headed off to take a shower.

#holoween2023 #star trek picard #emil (emh)#enoch (enh)#ian (eeh)#emmet (eth)#holosquad #always team la sirena #cristobal rios #raffi musiker

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jazzfic · 8 months

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six sentence sunday

Agnes tried jiggling her hips to the music before awkwardness won out. She glanced over to the small stage, frowning. “I don’t get it. They’re meant to be specialists. Emergency x hologram where x is insert skill and or trade as required, yeah?”

Soji blinked. “I... guess?”

“Then how is Emmet suddenly a DJ?”

Behind a complicated-looking setup consisting of a series of turntables and about a hundred holographic buttons, the dark, backlit shape of one emergency tactical hologram was hunched over, directing dance floor operations behind a curtain of hair. The party hat, Agnes noticed, his one begrudging concession to fun, had managed by some miracle to stay on top of his head, despite the slight discord of grooving it was being subjected to.

Emmet nodded to himself. Caught in the moment and seemingly quite enjoying it, he rolled his shoulders in time with the beat. With a flick of his wrist at the controls the lighting changed and colourful stars lit up the air.

A chorus of oohs rose appreciatively.

He pumped a lazy fist in return.

Agnes shared a bemused look with Soji. “One day they’ll stop surprising me. Today is not that day.”

#jen writes #continents move at a faster pace than I'm getting these words out but never mind #star trek la sirena #party on the cube

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riken-leather-co · 8 months

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Bapzo Whumptober 2023 |

“Stay in the immortality field!” Baptiste yelled, jumping up as he tossed the disk. It arced before landing right in the middle of Zarya and Mei. Mei tossed him a brief thankful smile before walling off an enemy. The battlefield was chaotic as usual. Anyone normal would struggle to keep up with the course of events, but all of them had their quirks. He cast a glance upwards, frowning in concern when he didn’t spot Hanzo.

“Hanzo, you copy?” He knew Hanzo despised him checking in on him when it wasn’t necessary. Preferred that Baptiste focused on keeping himself alive. But, Baptiste had lost far too many people and didn't want to lose another.

When there wasn’t a response he shared a look with Zarya before she jerked her chin, ‘Go’ it said.

“I’ll be back before you can say ‘Medic!’,” he said, using his exo boosts to rocket himself up onto the nearest building. He was making his way over to where he’d last seen Hanzo when his comms crackled to life.

“Assistance…may be required,” Hanzo muttered over the mic. It was a tone Baptiste knew as ‘I’m in trouble but I refuse to admit it’. A tone that both infuriated and exasperated him. But, Hanzo’s stubbornness was a trait Baptiste was fond of.

“Where are you?”

“Coordinates.” Was all he said, the sound of a few shots going off, before the comms shut off again. Baptiste glanced at the hologram that popped up in front of his eye. It wasn’t far, just a few buildings over. Soon enough he arrived at the edge, looking down at the alleyway. Hanzo was crouched behind cover, firing a few blind shots at enemies just around the corner - providing their own cover fire. With the advantage of height surprise, Baptiste took them out quickly. Then he hopped down to join Hanzo.

“Miss me?”

“You are a welcome sight.” Hanzo grabbed his arm and pulled him aside, firing a shot at a soldier who’d been aiming at him. “However, I am afraid to admit that was not all of them.”

“Oh.” Baptiste straightened up, glancing around as he took a step back, finding himself back to back with Hanzo. It seemed they’d been waiting for back up - so that they could hopefully catch more than one of them at once. He watched some soldiers flood both sides of the alley. Baptiste cracked his neck and readied his rifle. “I’ve seen worse.”

It would be difficult with the narrow alleyway. Their movement would be restricted. And, while he could use his ecoboost, Hanzo was more limited with his movement. Baptiste wouldn’t leave him behind. He sent an SOS and their location to the others. They just had to last until help could come, easy. Right? Right?

“No funny quips?” Hanzo asked as the fight began and fire began to echo around them. Baptiste left his back to Hanzo, and vice versa. He grinned a little as he started to shoot enemies.

“Aw. So you do like my jokes!”

Despite their banter, they quickly fell silent. The enemies began progressing. They dodged where they could, but they weren’t invincible. Eventually, wounds began emerging and slip ups began to happen. Baptiste grunted and rammed the butt of his rifle against the head of the soldier who got too close. Then he shot another but not before they got a shot off on his shoulder. Pain blossomed in the area and he hissed, gritting his teeth as he made himself persevere. He heard a grunt from Hanzo as he likely faced injuries of his own. Still, there was no sign of back up just yet and Baptiste began to worry. He was running out of bullets and a glance over his shoulder proved that Hanzo was running out of arrows.

“You -”

“If you suggest I boost out of here, fat chance.” Baptiste said through gritted teeth, healing when he heard Hanzo give another grunt of pain.

“Baptiste.” He could hear the exasperation in Hanzo’s voice.

“Lala, I can’t hear you over the sound of bullets!” Unfortunately, Baptiste had made a tactical mistake in showing that he was very much capable of keeping Hanzo up and running. Tactical, because Baptiste personally couldn’t feel bad about healing Hanzo. Even if it had him end up with a bullet in the side for his troubles - the enemy, naturally, targeting the healers.

There’s no playing it off with the way Baptiste clutches his side and curses, firing a shot that barely hits him. Hanzo’s at his side in an instant, ushering him to the side to at least cover them from one direction of the fire. He can see that Hanzo wants to worry over him but continues to fight instead. Finally, Baptise heard Zarya’s voice over the crowd. Fire dimmed as soldiers were forced to split their attention. He sighed and lowered his gun, turning his focus to pressing his hand against his side as hard as he could.

It proved more difficult than it sounded. With the adrenaline and fire dying down, his body began to feel the wounds. The bullet in his shoulder was making itself just as known as the one in his side. His hands were shaky as they began getting slick with his own blood. Baptiste squeezed his eyes shut, trying to blink the black spots out his vision. It was then he noticed Hanzo crouched in front him. Many would take his expression as angry, but Baptiste could see the worried furrow to his brow.

“Your concern…is flattering,” Baptiste jokes, his smiling quickly turning into a grimace.

“Stop speaking.” Hanzo tore took Baptiste’s pack from him, instructing him to lift his shirt as he went to quickly seal Baptiste’s wounds. “I wish to remove the bullet, but we must get moving, quickly. Can you stand?”

“Will you carry me?”

Hanzo stood up with intent and Baptiste quickly sat himself up, regretting it when it pulled on his side. “Kaka! It - I was joking -”

“..Are you sure?”

“Just..help me stand up,” Baptiste muttered, embarrassment settling over him as Hanzo assisted him. The world spun around him and he shut his eyes as he leaned against Hanzo.

Baptiste could feel Hanzo’s eyes on him their entire shuffle back with Zarya and Mei guiding them. When the Orca began to rise into view he finally glanced back at the man. “I’m not going to die from two bullet wounds, you know.” Sure, it hurt like hell. And sure, he was getting dizzy and his body was weak and achy. But, it wasn’t life threatening, he thought.

“...I know you won’t.” Hanzo frowned a little before looking away. “...Still, even I can worry.”

“...,” Baptiste chuckled slightly and shook his head. “...It does hurt pretty bad. I might need some help with my nightly bubble bath. Doctors orders.”

“Doctors orders,” Hanzo confirmed, lips twitching. He held Baptiste a little closer as they stepped onto the Orca together.

#whumptober 2023 #no.7 #no.8 #alleyway #outnumbered #fanfic #overwatch 2 #overwatch #hanzo shimada #jean baptiste augustin #gun shot #injury

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