#shoulder the sky | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

After the announcement of the deal with Yahoo!, there were 170K signatures of unhappy Tumblr users petitioning to prevent the sale in 2013.

shootingstarpilot · 6 months

Text

A scene that will only be referenced in the next chapter, but I was overcome with the urge to write it out anyway:

Boil catches Stitch's entry onto the bridge out of the corner of his eye.

He elbows Waxer, grinning. The kid's got a pair of crutches under one arm, and they'd both noticed the way the Commander had been leaning on the holotable, stubbornly ignoring the General's not-so-subtle disapproving look and the chair Waxer had fruitlessly nudged into place behind him.

This is going to be a show.

Stitch scans the bridge, eyes narrowed, until he catches sight of the Commander. He walks forward, stopping a few respectful feet behind him, and--

waits.

Thirty seconds pass.

Then a minute.

More and more eyes are landing on him. Poorly-muffled giggling blooms across the bridge.

"Hi, Stitch," Waxer says cheerfully.

"Hi, sir," Stitch says politely, his gaze flickering sideways in acknowledgement before returning to Cody's back.

Cody's shoulders slump.

Eventually, the holocall ends. General Kenobi is the first to turn around.

"Hello, Stitch," he says, smiling faintly. "Can I help you?"

"No thank you, sir. I'm waiting for the Commander, sir."

There's only so long Cody can avoid turning around, and he knows it. With a long, deep sigh, he turns.

"Hi, sir," Stitch says brightly, and thrusts the crutches forward. "You forgot these."

"Those aren't mine," Cody says immediately. "I left mine in my office. I'll grab them after."

"These are yours," Stitch says patiently. "I put a sticker on them when Helix first gave them to you. See?"

He points. Cody leans forward, searching despite himself--

His expression flattens out.

"It's a lightsaber," Stitch says helpfully. "Needle made it. He said you'd forgotten your crutches before, and I thought a sticker would be helpful for you to remember which are yours. Helix says taking initiative is a good thing."

"I... see."

He still doesn't take them.

Stitch sighs. "Is this because Helix yelled at you for kicking droids again, and you don't want to prove him right?"

"No," Cody grinds out, and Waxer muffles a wheezing laugh in Boil's shoulder. General Kenobi's expression is carefully blank.

"Is it because--"

"They're uncomfortable," Cody sighs. He lowers his voice, conscious of their delighted audience, and there's a ripple of coughing and clearing of throats as people turn back to their assigned tasks. "They-- my shoulders keep cramping. I need to be able to fire a blaster, Stitch. I'm minimizing my movement as much as possible, I promise."

"Uncomfortable," Stitch echos, looking baffled. "Why didn't you say so, sir? Give me-- ten minutes, please. I can fix that. I'll be back soon. Can you sit down in the meantime, please?"

"I'll make sure he does, Stitch," the General interjects, and Stitch nods seriously.

"Thank you, sir," he says, and nods at them both before vanishing out the door.

"You're enjoying this far too much, sir," Cody hisses, as Kenobi carefully helps him settle into the long-ignored chair.

"My dear Commander," Kenobi says, laughing, "I'm simply glad it's not me this time."

Cody's glare could incinerate a Hutt. The General remains cheerfully unaffected.

When Stitch returns, he brings with him a painstakingly adjusted pair of crutches. Layers of cotton batting is tied carefully to the pads, and the grips have been adjusted a few levels upwards.

"Try these, please," he says, handing them over.

Cody reluctantly accepts them. "All right. Later, when I--"

Stitch is looking at him very expectantly.

He sighs. "Yes, Stitch."

He levers himself to his feet and takes a few halting steps. Boil watches, fascinated, as astonishment flickers across his expression before it settles into a quiet resignation.

"This-- is better," he mutters. "Very much so."

Stitch beams. "Thank you, sir! And you'll make sure to use them until you're cleared?"

"Yes, Stitch."

"And you won't forget about your follow-up tomorrow? You can have a juice box. Or a pudding cup. You can choose. Needle got some."

Waxer coos. Cody glares at him.

("That's KP duty for you," Boil whispers. "Just you wait.")

"I won't, Stitch."

"Good. Thank you, sir. And- Helix told me to tell you that you- that you're lucky you got me and not him, sir, because he'd be, um- a damn sight louder, sir, because he's got no patience for- for idiots, sir."

A beat.

"That's from him, sir," Stitch repeats anxiously.

Cody sighs. "That's all right, Stitch. Well done."

Stitch brightens immediately, rocking back on his heels. "I'll save you a chocolate pudding cup, sir, if you like. Those ones are the best, so they tend to go fast."

A smile flickers across Cody's face. "Thank you. I'd appreciate it. You're dismissed."

Stitch salutes-- shiny little tubie, small gods-- and vanishes out the door.

Kenobi has given up the game entirely, now, and is grinning broadly. Cody turns on him immediately.

"Stop that."

"Stop what, my dear?"

"The thing you're doing with your face."

"Smiling?"

"Smugly. Yes."

"I'm just pleased with our medics' professionalism, Commander."

"I've got two dozen witnesses to that for the next time you try to dodge them."

"Noted. Can I have your pudding cup?"

"No."

#shoulder the sky #stitch the medic #codywan #teasing is a perfectly valid love language

220 notes · View notes

bumbledees · 8 months

Text

fanart for @shootingstarpilot from like lightning changing hands, the most recent fic in his shoulder the sky series. i cannot for the life of me remember when I last did fanart (fe 3 houses????) but listen, I love little medic stitch (shootingstarpilot's oc) so so much. he's NINE you guys. for clone troopers that's like SIXTEEN. he goes through so much so when he got a chance to sit in a garden with a duckling on his head and be happy i was overcome with the need to draw it. codywan in one bubble with cody definitely not paying attention to the ducks. needle (another 212th medic + oc of shootingstarpilot) in the other bubble pleased with his contribution (the duckling) to world peace. if you've read this fic please come cry about the 212th medics in general with me, and this tiny dinosaur-loving kindhearted neurodivergent kiddo in particular. as needle calls him: baby bug. baby.

#star wars #shootingstarpilot #like lightning changing hands #night_fury #on ao3 anyways #shoulder the sky #dee draws

166 notes · View notes

drauthor · 9 months

Text

calloused hands and bruised hearts is live—

Once again, I’m forever indebted to @shootingstarpilot for writing the series this work was based off of and inspired by. I just love the series with my whole entire soul and this was born as a labor of love.

I couldn’t get the idea out of my head and had to write something, and so 13.8k words of rare pair fanfiction were born and forced onto the universe.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think ✨💛✨

#shoulder the sky #blame shootingstarpilot #shootingstarpilot #drauthor writes #writing #star wars #ao3 #fanfic #windix #send help #this took almost a month #fuck #13.8k words #oneshot #drabble #the eroticism of taking off your homie’s armor #fluff #hurt/comfort

21 notes · View notes

themonopolyhat · 1 year

Text

shoulder the sky: the windix hanahaki au

that time i was screwing around in chat with @shootingstarpilot and accidentally coughed up a 6K+ windix-flavored hanahaki au for his shoulder the sky series. (hanahaki disease is a fic trope in which unrequited or unconfessed love causes flowers to grow in the afflicted person's lungs.)

compiling the comments here for funsies. featuring mace and helix, needle and stitch, cody, obi-wan, and a whole pile of tropes bubblegum-taped together.

as always, helix the clone medic belongs to @swmoddy, needle and stitch belong to @shootingstarpilot

the setup:

@shootingstarpilot: this is taking the concept and running with it, but i like the thought that it's not just romantic feelings, it's familial too. im just thinking about kamino's fucked up upbringing, how dangerous that sort of out-loud acknowledgement would be--

@themonopolyhat: oh i knew you would hurt me with this i knew it

@shootingstarpilot: thinking about helix, helix who loves in everything he does but doesn't say it, never thought he needed to, starting to cough up flowers

my crimes:

so maybe it's not every clone, maybe it's just a few really unlucky ones that get hit with this predisposition

most of them die young bc kamino is a bad place and lots of clones get culled, it's statistically likely for any clone with a deviation from the norm to get caught and killed

helix is one of the very, very, very, very few that makes it out. and he does so without becoming a cold unfeeling bastard, which is the usual defense mechanism

if he loves someone, he starts to cough petals. the symptoms abate if he confesses. that's easy enough for him, he's a medic and he's kind and he's not shy. he tells his brothers he loves them, no problem.

sometimes he coughs petals for a few days before he figures out who the new culprit is.

sometimes he coughs for a few days and then the symptoms clear up, and he figures out that the culprit died.

the thing is that he really does have a good grasp of professional distance. he doesn't love every patient, though he cares for them. he's good at holding his heart carefully. he just doesn't mind loving colleagues and friends and batchers easily.

he loves needle on day three. coughs petals, isn't even fucking surprised. needle hugs him desperately when helix tells him he loves him. it's something needle hasn't heard since -- well. since he got up from the chair a different person.

he loves stitch on day two. that one's a surprise. it's not because stitch is quiet and wary and obviously, obviously hurt. that inspires sympathy and protectiveness.

it's the way stitch fixes pillows and adjusts cannulas and talks so softly to the men in his care. he remembers everything he's told. he's brilliant. he's sweet. he cares and he's talented and he doesn't ever look for praise.

helix tells him he loves him on day eight, because any sooner and he's sure the poor kid would shut right down on him. it's cutting it close -- stitch is confused but thanks him. helix pops another throat lozenge and goes about his day.

[needle and stitch] figure it out after a while and in retrospect they're like ohhhhh helix you enormous sap you loved us that fast???

things are fine, really

u n t i l

there comes a day, a little ways into the war, when helix coughs petals. and it takes him some time to realize that he's coughing them up over his first natborn.

the first natborn he's ever loved -- the first who's ever earned it --

helix just kind of bangs his head down on his arms when he finally cottons on. he's a moron. of course it's their general. their kind, funny, exasperating general who loves them and flings his body between them and pain and death every goddamn chance he gets -- who defends them with every scrap of that gigantic brain and that silvery tongue and the weight of his own title and influence and connections --

helix loves obi-wan. he's coughing petals over it.

his boys figure him out way too fast, as always, and they suss out the complication just as fast when they've cornered helix in the office.

needle and stitch stare, a bit wide-eyed, as the reality sinks in.

"have you ever -- a natborn --?" needle asks delicately.

"no," helix grumbles tiredly, rubbing at his sore throat. "exactly which natborn would have made the cut?"

"how are you going to tell him? does it work if you use synonyms, or if you say it like you're joking?" stitch asks, undelicately.

helix gives him a wan little smile despite himself. "unfortunately, no, it doesn't work like that. i experimented when i was young. and... gods, i guess if i don't want to die, i'll have to figure out the how sooner or later."

fortunately for helix, blind luck gives him an easy out soon enough.

he's holed up with the general alone in a shallow crater, where they flung themselves to avoid being spotted while picking their way back to their own side of the battlefield.

why are they out here alone? because helix is playing field medic today, his larty got shot down, four men survived the crash aside from him, two of them died minutes after, the other two he was able to patch but they couldn't move fast with their injuries, and helix ended up hiding alone after an ugly chase.

and then obi-wan turned up to get him, in person, already dusty and sweaty and dinged up after the day's fighting, and helix still doesn't know exactly how the hells the general found one lone clone out here.

so they're here in the depression in the earth, catching their breath and drinking a little of what remains in their canteens.

"shouldn't be long now," the general murmurs lowly, checking the coordinates and the sky. "we're not far. another hour or three, if we're careful, and we'll be past the droids' scanning range. then it's just another half a day to camp, if cody's scouts pick us up right away."

helix nods. watches his general poke at the readout from his wrist comm some more. "i'm sorry you came all this way for just one," he hears himself saying out loud.

obi-wan doesn't look over, which is, helix has learned, a sure sign he's feeling some strong emotion and hiding it. "i'm not," he says easily, the reply so ready he must have had to express similar sentiments before. "this is what i am for, really. i'm just sorry i wasn't there soon enough to save anyone else along with."

helix's throat itches, and his lungs feel abruptly heavy. he hasn't coughed in front of obi-wan yet, and he doesn't intend to start now. maybe it's the fact that he knows he's talking to an empath, but it doesn't seem so difficult to get the words out, not when they're delivered on a swell of feeling.

"you make it easy to love you, general," he murmurs. "and i do. love you, i mean."

(he has to be explicit, or it doesn't work.)

obi-wan does look over, now, and his surprise is clear to see. "oh. ah. well." it's not often that he's caught so flat-footed, and helix finds it both hilarious and charming. "thank you? you must know i care for you, as well." a pause. "very much, helix. i care for you very much."

helix knows what he means. he feels lighter. breathing, of course, is easier. so is running, when they inevitably get to that point in the escape.

[fast forward to] the SECOND natborn helix loves enough to start the flowers growing again

everything develops in series canon... [mace and helix are] trauma besties. then friends. confidantes. they trust each other. they care for each other.

mace comes into helix's life at the same time that practically everything is horrible. so it's understandable that the realization takes time.

the coughing doesn't start, luckily, until after helix gets back from his trip through the rift. after seeing the utter lack of recognition in that other mace's eyes, the impersonal sizing-up and curiosity and distance. after seeing his mace again, clocking the warmth and depth of mace's attention and attentiveness, the way he carries himself with such grace, the faint curve of his mouth when he's amused and the light in his eyes --

helix coughs. realization comes swiftly. he hides from needle and stitch for nearly a full day.

the first time his voice goes scratchy, needle eyeballs him malevolently. the first time he stifles a cough around stitch, stitch immediately comms needle. it's inevitable. helix is resigned.

"who is it?" stitch asks outright. "it can't be someone new. we haven't gone anywhere in days."

"except to the past, and i can't see helix being the love at first sight type," needle muses, as he often has before. (he's very right and should repeat the facts often, in helix's opinion.) "so it's got to be somebody he already knows and just had a Moment about."

stitch gently, carefully listens to helix's breathing and hands him a lozenge, with the exact air of someone handing a child a sweet after shots. "do we need to guess or do you want to tell us?" he asks.

helix sets his hand over his eyes. "it's mace," he says flatly.

"oh," stitch says brightly.

"oh," needle says, deflating somewhat. "that makes sense."

helix swallows a chuckle and, in a spurt of ill-timed desire for support (even if it's in the form of teasing and the worst suggestions known to clonekind), he adds, "it's not... the regular kind."

"oh?" stitch asks, frowning, immediately concerned, the diagnostician in him leaping to the fore.

"oh," needle repeats. he blinks at helix for a moment. "oh." surprise, delight, and smugness are fighting an audible pitched battle for dominance. "stitch, buddy, put that away. it's not a difference in strain. it's a different catalyst."

stitch looks at needle and waits for explanation, which he will get -- nobody who loves stitch plays coy with him, it's not kind.

"helix doesn't just love like a friend or a brother this time," needle continues, though his voice is quieter now, soft and overjoyed and conspiring. "do you, helix? it's more than that."

helix leans back and looks up at the ceiling, biting the inside of his cheeks to keep from smiling like an idiot. damn, but it does feel good to have it outside his own head. good and annoying, but for now he'll coast on the good. "more," he replies simply, dryly.

it's more than enough for needle, who audibly grabs stitch and shakes him in place. "stitch!" he hisses. "helix is in love. romantically. with general windu!"

a deafening silence follows. helix can hear stitch processing from here. "is that even allowed?" stitch wants to know. he sounds baffled. little gods on rye, helix adores him.

helix looks at them again in time to see needle squishing stitch companionably under one arm. "if it's not, most of the army is in trouble," he answers cheerfully. "show me a man who hasn't got a thing for at least one of the generals and i'll show you a certified liar. or a you, unless you're holding out on me."

stitch wrinkles his nose. "i'm not holding out. they're the generals." which is all the explanation he seems to feel is warranted.

"right, right, but you've seen the nose art and the tats and the cartoons on the forums. the polls, too. didn't you vote for general kenobi in the last 'sexiest jedi' poll?"

"yes, because general fisto was winning and general kenobi deserves our support."

"well there you go."

helix doesn't want to think about any of the jedi generals in terms of sexiness (except one, maybe, and isn't that a new and shining and fragile line of thought), especially not kenobi. he coughs lightly into his fist, catching their immediate attention. "widespread pining aside, i know i can count on you both to be discreet about this," he tells them. "i probably wouldn't say anything to him if this damned disease wasn't going to force my hand, but as it is... well. i'll figure something out. i just need some time."

helix may not have any prior experience with this kind of love, but he knows it's not the sort of thing he can confess easily or casually, like he does to his brothers. nor does he anticipate circumstances conspiring to give him a good opening, like he had with obi-wan.

he has to figure out how to tell mace he's in love with him. a clone in love with a natborn. in love with a jedi, and the master of the order, at that.

but first, there's the rift. the past. and there's ben.

(watching mace tread carefully around ben does nothing to tamp down helix's feelings. he coughs for some minutes every morning, now. petals and more petals, mixed with mucus. sometimes it's tinged pink.)

he doesn't find the time. he doesn't make the time.

in his defense, there's very little time to be found or made.

he blinks, and ben is gone, the rift sealed, and mace has so many duties pulling him in every direction. helix is busy, too -- the clones are hurtling toward citizenship, and one of their first acts of freedom after the war is declared over?

[shoulder the sky spoilers redacted]

mace is going with them. he's on a different ship.

helix coughs and coughs and coughs. he takes suppressants during the day, and pays for it at night. pink turns to red. petals turn to buds, then to blooming flower heads. a leaf here, a young stalk there.

some nights he lays next to the commode after heaving up half a garden and gasps for air, his vision darkening all around the edges.

needle and stitch notice. of course they do. they know his throat is sore, his breathing hampered. they see the exhaustion dogging his steps.

needle takes helix aside one day and very, very seriously affixes an emergency call bracelet to his wrist. "it calls to stitch and me, both," he says crisply. "use it any time, any shift. you know we mean that."

helix just looks at it, guilt stirring down deep. he's killing himself slowly here, like a moron. and he's making them watch.

"helix," needle presses.

"i will," helix tells him softly.

"don't make us find you," needle begs him.

which is what makes helix decide he actually will use the damn thing. if he needs to.

he needs to sooner than he expected.

he gets a comm from mace that makes him chuckle fondly for half a day after. that night, he coughs so frantically that he finds himself fumbling for the bracelet -- he's going to pass out, he can't stay upright, he's afraid he'll vomit and aspirate, so he tumbles sideways and hopes it's close enough to the recovery position --

he comes awake hacking, convulsing with it. a hand strikes his back firmly, and a voice murmurs to him that he's all right, most of it's out already, there are just a few residuals, it's okay, you're okay...

he blinks wetly up at needle and stitch, who've wedged themselves into the little 'fresher with him and look very solemn indeed.

"drink this slowly," stitch commands, passing down an opened bulb of water. it's been warmed and tastes like salt and lozenges -- one of stitch's own recipes for sore throats.

needle holds helix's head in his lap, stroking his hair. "we pulled the major obstructions out while you were unconscious." he pauses. "it's never been this bad before."

he's scared them. he can see it.

"you have to tell him," stitch says, with such clear uncomprehending pain that helix has to close his eyes against it. "you can't do this for much longer, not without staying in medbay for observation and intervention."

"which means we'll tie you to a bed and intubate you and you'll have to make your confession via battle sign," needle adds darkly.

it's a little funny. helix doesn't mean to laugh, but he does, a little. a cough rattles free.

"i'm sorry, boys," he murmurs, and presses his cheek to needle's leg. "i really am. your cmo is an idiot."

"yes," stitch agrees. "which is why i already asked ponds to have general windu comm you tomorrow at lunch time. you can tell him then and your throat and lungs can start healing."

"you asked ponds...?" helix croaks in surprise.

"well. i asked ace who asked ponds who called to ask me for clarification and then told me he'd arrange it."

needle is all smiles. he lays a hand across helix's brow. "i want to hear the details of that conversation later."

"later," stitch agrees peaceably.

helix gives a shallow sigh. he didn't want to do this over comms, but he's running out of options and he knows it.

fast forward, the call with mace gets interrupted, helix does not get to tell him. he ends up back in medbay and needle and stitch look so hopeful and he feels worse about having to shake his head than he does about his own diminishing health.

(it's not an easy death, or so he imagines. there's never been a clone who lived long enough to die of this particular ailment. they don't even really know how long it might take.)

there won't be another chance to talk to mace before they make planetfall. it will have to wait.

(he shakes his head, no he didn't tell mace, no he's not taking a shift off even though he was up late gagging on flowers, no he doesn't need a break, he's fine, he just needs to sip water and take a hit off the inhaler stitch concocted for him)

it must be mentioned that some of the 212th has noticed their cmo seems a bit off. the boys aren't stupid, and they're so accustomed to the way a clone ought to look and move that deviations due to injury or illness stand out like flashing alarms. helix's color isn't great, and his breathing is wrong, and he doesn't move as quickly as he used to. he talks like it hurts his throat. he shifts his balance like he's fighting dizziness, sometimes.

it's noticeable. they notice. they have noticed.

cody is the one who comes to ask. he sets his helmet precisely on the corner of helix's desk and looks him squarely in the eye. "you're sick," he says, straight to the point.

helix doesn't bother asking how he knows, or whether anyone else does, too. it's likely that every clone aboard has a hunch, at least, or has heard about someone else's. (kenobi is actually the least likely to know. clones keep some things strictly in-house, and old habits die hard.) "i am."

cody nods slowly. "treatable?"

"in a manner of speaking." helix sighs, shallow and careful. "but not at the moment. i'm managing."

"will you need to go back to coruscant for treatment?"

helix considers for a moment. it might not be a bad idea if cody knows the truth. he's trustworthy with secrets, and if helix does croak, someone ought to tell obi-wan why. "it's hanahaki."

cody's expression is sort of hilarious. "you -- what?"

"the love disease. i'm coughing up flowers. it'll kill me at some point, if, well. you know."

cody opens and closes his mouth, and apparently has to sit down, because he drops out of his upright parade rest and into a chair as though he's had a few strings cut. "what the kark," he finally says.

helix grins wryly at him. "yeah."

"that's... i didn't know anyone got off kamino with that. they all got caught as cadets."

"most did."

"but not you."

"not me."

cody just stares at him. "you're sick because you love someone and you haven't told them."

"that's the sum of it, yes."

"helix, that is the stupidest way a clone could possibly die."

helix is surprised into laughing, which threatens to send him into a coughing fit. he reaches for the inhaler, smiling, and rasps, "don't i fucking know it, cody."

(it will occur to helix later that he really should have ribbed cody about his thing for the general -- if cody had been coughing flowers, it might have saved them all years of watching him and kenobi sashay around each other like nubian flamingos.)

cody doesn't ask who it is, and helix doesn't volunteer the information. it's immaterial to the situation they're all about to be in, anyway.

cody does tell helix in no uncertain terms to get his shit together, though. he does not want him to die of this like some tongue-tied airhead shiny.

truthfully, that leaves helix feeling very cheerful indeed. after they've [redacted], he decides. he'll find mace somewhere and tell him. short and sweet.

[redacted shit happens]

helix glimpses mace twice, from a distance.

there's no time to talk to him.

and then there's even less time than before.

[redacted redacted]

he's choking before he can catch a full breath. choking, coughing fruitlessly, clutching his chest, his throat, staggering to his knees instinctively because he knows he's going to fall --

someone is shouting. several someones, nearby and far away. there are hands on him, frantic questions, a light in his eyes. so many dismayed expressions hovering over him, he wants to bark at them to quit gawking and do something before they catch flies.

he can't speak. blood slides down his throat, coats his lips. there's a flower caught at the root of his tongue, huge and strangling. he can't breathe. he can't breathe. he can't --

he wakes up.

it's slightly surprising, to be honest.

he knows he's in his own medbay before he's even fully conscious. the sounds, the smell, the feel of the place is sunk into his bones by now. he knows it. it's home.

helix gingerly swallows, curling his fingers slightly in the blanket. he's so sore inside. breathing hurts. his throat feels like it's been peeled raw. his chest is tight. the oxygen cannula in his nose is some relief, but he'd blackmail somebody for a lozenge or warm water with an analgesic dissolved in it right now.

"are you awake, helix?" someone murmurs from the bedside.

helix licks his lips, tasting the medbay chap gel there, and opens his eyes, blinking blearily until obi-wan's face swims into focus. "sir," he tries to say, and his voice is such a ruin, his throat flares with such pain, that he shuts up immediately.

"no, shh, don't try to talk," obi-wan says quietly. "you don't have to talk. just rest. i'm sure needle or stitch will be over in a minute, they've been watching over you very carefully."

helix absolutely believes that. his heart twists. they're such good boys. they deserve better than this bullshit. there's enough going on without them having to manage their cmo, too.

obi-wan eyes him a moment. "i didn't know you were sick," he offers quietly. "and no -- that isn't a criticism. you're entitled to your privacy. i'll go if you prefer that i am not here, but i wanted to watch over you while you slept, at least for a little while."

helix could cry, and he almost too tired to stop up the impulse. almost. he points wearily at an insulated cup on the bedside table. it's full of ice chips, he knows. kenobi can stay if he pays his way in ice chips.

obi-wan cottons on in an instant and immediately fetches the cup and a spoon. he feeds helix an ice chip without another word.

the trickle of cold water hurts. then it feels wonderful.

needle is the first to arrive over, and his smile is warm and sweet, though there's stress in the pinch at the corners of his eyes, and in the careful way he checks helix's vitals and monitors and the tuck of his pillows.

"you can read the chart if you want details," he tells helix softly. "but it was close." he pauses significantly, and helix glances at kenobi and then nods at needle, wordlessly giving him clearance to keep going. "we cleared your throat and suctioned your lungs as much as we could, but the... symptoms have advanced to the point that surgery is the next step. and no, we have no idea if that would help or make things worse."

helix sure as hell doesn't think surgically scraping the plants out will fix him. he shakes his head gently and sets a hand at needle's cheek, all gratitude and apology.

“that's what we thought you'd say." needle cups his hand over helix's, and he's still smiling, but it's even more painful now. "we're not sure how many more episodes like that you can survive, helix. and even if you... get the treatment, we don't know if the damage will reverse fully. no one's ever gotten to this stage, that we know of."

helix nods and eats another ice chip when it's offered. he's been thinking about that, too. whether his body will heal as magically as it's destroying itself, if he confesses to mace. nobody can know what to expect.

"needle," obi-wan interjects quietly, "is it... the treatment, is it a matter of cost? availability? i can make sure you have access to any help the temple can provide. anything we can do."

helix reaches for obi-wan's hand and squeezes it, and needle shakes his head. "sorry, sir. that's not the problem. there's nothing you can do."

obi-wan eyes him shrewdly, fingers curled securely around helix's. "but there's something that can be done. yes?"

"yes, sir."

"who do i need to make pleasant or unpleasant overtures at, in that case?"

helix huffs a silent laugh. their general is truly one of the finest the temple has on offer. /windu,/ he signs succinctly. /need windu./

obi-wan does not ask why he needs mace. he simply procures him.

needle is off duty and asleep, obi-wan is long gone, and stitch is helping helix sip some more lozenge-water when mace arrives, not three hours later.

he's such a welcome and painful sight, helix feels his chest constricting. he swallows his water carefully and lifts a hand in wan greeting. (truly, he thinks morosely, he has never felt more attractive a prospect than he does right now.)

"obi-wan told me you asked for me," mace tells him, coming to the bedside, his expression all concern. "i didn't hear you had collapsed until a short while ago. will you be all right?"

helix can't speak, still. there's no amount of painkillers that can mend his raw throat enough to let him talk. he gives the signs for /red band triage/, which isn't the clearest answer but it's as close as he can get with battle sign.

"red," mace interprets. "critical but salvageable, given immediate treatment." off stitch's and helix's confirmation, he looks between the two of them seriously. "how can i help? obi-wan seemed to think the treatment is something you can't access by yourselves, but he didn't know any details."

helix pats stitch's chest gently and flashes him a couple of signs. stitch nods -- he's not always great with reading the nuance of battle signs when they're used in other contexts, but these he can read easily enough.

"it's very private, sir," stitch explains, his voice pitched low, for their ears only. "a secret. no one knows. this condition is rare, and as far as we know, helix is the only one with the predisposition to have survived this long, and this is the latest stage of acuity anyone's ever seen."

mace absorbs that and gives helix a Look. "there's such a thing as striving to be singular in too many areas, you realize."

helix grins at him. he wants to touch him. he holds the impulse back.

"i'll let helix tell you himself how, exactly, the condition manifests, if he chooses to do that," stitch continues soberly. "but it's serious, and he will die if he doesn't take the necessary action in time." his expression twists. "there's not much time left, as far as we can tell."

"i see." mace presses a hand to helix's arm, warm and grounding. "what can i do to help?"

helix looks up at him. little gods, mace is so handsome, and his dark eyes are endlessly deep, unfathomably sincere. the constriction in helix's chest winds tighter, and he gulps in a breath, signs quickly to stitch.

"you can listen, sir," stitch replies softly. his palm rests lightly on helix's brow for a moment. "i'll be nearby if you need me." and then he's gone, stepping away and twitching the privacy screen closed behind him.

they're quiet with each other a moment. helix isn't sure how to begin this conversation, especially since he can't actually fucking say most of what he wants to. he hesitates, picks at the blanket.

"it's been a while since we were alone together," mace remarks easily. "i haven't talked with you in person for weeks." he arches a brow. "would i have noticed you were sick, i wonder."

helix considers. /maybe,/ he signs. he's been in obi-wan's presence a couple of times since this bout started, but not since it got bad, and anyway, obi-wan's been slightly busy, himself. if he didn't notice, it wasn't for lack of care. mace might have picked up on something, but there's no way to know, now.

"it seems to have gotten serious fairly quickly, in any case." mace tips his head, presses his lips together slightly, as he does when he's working through strong emotions. "stitch said you needed me to listen, helix. i am listening."

this is it. after everything, it feels almost anticlimactic. and yet -- it's unbearably dramatic, with helix lying on his near-literal deathbed and reduced to using gods-damned battle signs to confess his adoration.

(why me, he laments internally, and not for the first time in his existence.)

/insufficient signs,/ he begins. /rig on the fly./

"you don't have the signs to say what you want to, but you'll figure out how to get your meaning across," mace interprets aloud.

/you know s-p-e-l-l-i-n-g signs?/

"yes, i know the sign alphabet."

/copy./ helix swallows, his throat feeling more raw than ever, if that's even possible. /you and i. take cover together. trench battle. review footage./

mace takes in the sequence and nods slowly, somberly. "you showed incredible conviction and kindness, in suffering through that for obi-wan."

/you had injury. you k-i-n-d. no success without you./

mace quirks the faintest smile. "far be it from me to argue while you haven't got your sharp tongue available in full. it seems unfair."

helix hopes his expression conveys something like "damn straight." /i have an urgent report,/ he signs, and it's so stupid, but he thinks mace will catch his meaning.

"you have something important to say," mace guesses. "to say to me, specifically?"

helix nods. his tongue feels dry, despite all of the ice chips and stitch's water.

he lifts his hand and spells, slow and clear.

/i l-o-v-e y-o-u/

he sees it, the exact moment the meaning becomes clear.

mace's eyes don't go round, he's far too controlled for that, but there's an opening-up in his expression, a glimpse of utter surprise.

"you love me," he echoes, so very softly. "i didn't misunderstand?"

/l-o-v-e./ and, because why not, helix taps his own chest twice, directly over his heart, and points to mace.

and something in his chest twists. helix gasps thickly, claws at the neck of his scrubs and digs his heels against the mattress. terror spirals through him -- is it killing him anyway, was he too late, is mace going to watch him die -- ?

the alarms are shrieking. there are hands on his arms, on his chest, on his face. mace is here, warm and steady. stitch has reappeared and is just as steady, in his own way -- grim and fast and going through the steps, a dance they both know like --

well. shit. they know it like breathing, don't they?

"sit him up," stitch orders sharply. "in case he has to cough it up."

they slide their hands behind his back, hoist him half upright, half leaning into the support. helix doesn't quite feel like coughing. his chest feels -- strange. not necessarily bad. but strange.

he swallows and realizes with a start that his throat doesn't hurt. the weight on his chest is sliding free, like someone's released a vice around his ribs.

"helix," stitch says imploringly, "cough if you need to. i'm right here. i'll help you get it out."

helix tentatively sips at the air, disbelieving. there's no pain. no threatening tickle in his throat, no sandbags in his lungs. he's still tired, and his head is spinning, but -- but --

he shuts his eyes and sucks in a deep breath, the kind he hasn't been able to draw for weeks.

stitch's hand does not leave his back, but the familiar sounds of a scanner start up. "oh," he says, shocked at whatever he sees.

mace's hands are here, too. one at helix's back, the other secure around his arm. "what is it?"

helix breathes in again and again, biting the inside of his lip and mashing down the urge to cry with relief. he opens his eyes and looks at stitch. "i'm fine?" he asks aloud. his voice is a little thready still, but he thinks that's just reaction, not damage.

stitch nods, huge-eyed. "the scan indicates no abnormalities. no blockage, no foreign mass."

helix smiles at him. he takes his face in his hands and leans to press a kiss to his forehead. "scram for a minute, i want to talk to mace. get needle, will you?"

stitch scrams, nearly tripping over himself on his way out.

mace's expression is bemused but soft when helix turns to him. "sorry about all of this," helix tells him first, reflexively. "i didn't mean to let it go so long."

"i believe you." mace curls a hand around helix's, gently, questioningly. "i have never quite felt anything like that in the force before. are you all right, really?"

helix grins at him and squeezes his hand. "i'm better than i've been in a while, mace. the boys will run tests to be sure, but i feel like it's receded completely. and the damage got undone, but don't ask me how the hells that happened."

"that question is maybe sixth on my list," mace says dryly. "i would rather ask you if you meant to tell me what you did, just now."

an easy question, in a way. helix looks at him squarely. "yes. i meant it." he feels his smile turn crooked. "i love you. i have for months, i think."

mace does not take his hand from helix's. he looks like he's listening to something far away. it's a very jedi look. "i won't do you the disservice of pretending i don't know what kind of love you mean."

"i appreciate that."

without so much as a blink, mace is back with him, right here, close and sturdy. he lifts his other hand and cups helix's cheek. "you must know that i have thought very highly of you since the beginning." there's something in his voice, a note of softness helix hasn't heard from him before. "i have cared for you for nearly as long. we were in the trench together, as you said. a bond not easily forgotten, even if i were of a mind to."

helix nods wordlessly. he realizes he's holding his breath and makes himself inhale. he doesn't know what answer to expect from mace, but whatever it is, it'll be kind. mace is kind.

mercifully, mace is also straightforward. "i think that, given room to grow, my regard for you will become love." he smiles, more a warm cast in his eyes than a curve of lips. "quickly."

helix covers his hand where it's fitted to his cheek. "what kind of fertilizer do you need?" he asks, a chuckle threatening for more than one reason.

END

#my writing #shoulder the sky #hanahaki #windix #mace windu #helix the clone medic #shootingstarpilot #fanfiction #the clone wars

29 notes · View notes

bananastress · 1 year

Text

Second part of the series, I feel like this story has stolen my heart

Though some would harm you by Night_Fury (@shootingstarpilot)

“No-”

The red blade punches through Obi-Wan’s chest. The force of the blow lifts him off his feet. The blade lodges in the wall of the shuttle behind him, and Obi-Wan just -

hangs there.

#night_fury #star wars #ao3 fanfic #shoulder the sky #obi wan kenobi #bamf obi-wan kenobi #Planet Melida | Daan (Star Wars)#hurt obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi needs a hug #Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series #star wars prequel trilogy #did I steal the tags? yes I did #fanfic #ao3

27 notes · View notes

shadow-pixelle · 11 months

Note

Hullo-hullo! I just read Chasing a Beacon and Light in a Storm, and I'm in love already!

Shoulder the Sky was a brilliant series, and I've been *waiting* for another author to pounce on the idea of the Small Gods. You, my friend, have done so brilliantly!

The idea of Finders being the ones to welcome new members of the family to the Temple is amazing, but the idea of the Temple being sentient is something I just ADORE! I can only imagine the memories it holds, the pure, unbridled *love* the Jedi must feel coming back after each mission! Ah!

I eagerly look forawrd to any more works in this 'verse that you're comfortable with and willing to share!!

(Not me getting to this like 3 weeks late because I'm a disaster)

Hi!! Thanks so much!!! I'm super glad you enjoyed it. I have so many headcanons for things, and I really like messing around with eldritch perspectives, especially ones that're almost but not quite human like the Temple is- because honestly, that thing has had people living in it for centuries, it's got some idea of How To Human, it's just messed up with all the other various bits of perspective so it's a bit weird. I was so goddamn excited reading Shoulder The Sky because the Small Gods fit so well into all of that, and I'm really proud that it worked out.

I've got a few other small ideas for Chasing a Beacon's world, though I'm not sure when I'll be getting to them (not me having a massive SW longfic I'm working on and also falling back into the DC fandom while finally starting to watch Danny Phantom like I've been meaning to for a while. I don't have a massive pile of things I'm doing all at once, not at all.). Hopefully they'll live up to your expectations when I do get there, though!

#Pix's Q&A Box #writing #fic writing #chasing a beacon universe #night fury's shoulder the sky au #shoulder the sky #star wars

12 notes · View notes

kcrabb88 · 1 year

Text

I commissioned the lovely @skeletons-eat to draw this scene from my Revenge of the Sith fix-it fic, Shoulder the Sky, featuring Obi-Wan, Anakin, Padme, and Quinlan and I am still YELLING about how much I love it!!! 💜

(I know, Obi-Wan looks really beat up, but it IS a fix-it, I swear)

#I am so!!! The way they are all holding each other #The detail on Obi-Wan’s injuries is so!! Great!#Shoulder the Sky #Star Wars tag #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Padme Amidala #Quinlan Vos #Blood tw

26 notes · View notes

twilight-linkess · 11 months

Text

I'm enamoured with the idea of the older Links having a night out sans the younger members of the Chain (and Time), but like, they all want to relax so nobody remembers to bring the brain cell. A night of brotherly bonding and ridiculous shenanigans ensue. The kind that's like, 'We're all closer than we were before, but also we take this night to our graves lest the rest of the Chain loses all respect for us.'

I don't know. I'm not a writer

#linked universe #lu twilight #lu sky #lu warriors #linkeduniverse #the wear stuff on their shoulders trio #or the adult but not as adult as time trio #the big brother/mom friend/responsible type characterizations are fun #but i hope they have down time because whew...that'd be too stressful #linkess-art

1K notes · View notes

shootingstarpilot · 5 months

Text

In Which Obi-Wan Meets Stitch Properly

Happy Friday! Today's been A Day, so to make myself feel better, I wrote a lil scene referenced in Chapter 11 of how to bring him home:

Stupid.

It wasn’t even during a battle. Not on the ground, where the noise is everywhere all the time and where he tucks himself back and away and pulls on ‘81 for a bit, because ‘81 knows not to flinch at loud noises and or tap his fingers and Stitch can keep being a good medic while ‘81 takes the brunt of the noise and the darkness and everything else.

It’s effective. ‘81 had gotten him out of Kamino. ‘81 keeps him and his brothers alive on the battlefield. But being ‘81 is exhausting. So he stops being ‘81 on the ship once he realizes he doesn’t have to be. Because no one tells him that he’s tapping too much or talking too fast or being too stupid, and he can walk up to Helix or Needle and ask for a hug and get one.

(‘81 doesn’t get hugs.)

So he’s not prepared at all when he wanders into the engineering bay just in time for the sharp snap of a backfiring engine to crack his brain open like an egg.

He backpedals instinctively, all thoughts of routine physicals dropped along with his composure on the engineering bay’s floor, and the whole world goes snapshot-blurry.

Boots skidding across the floor.

A door that won’t open.

His own breathing, too loud.

A door that won’t open.

His own heartbeat, too fast.

A door that won’t open.

Voices approaching–

And then, finally, a door that does.

He flings himself in– glimpses a bucket, a mop, cleaning supplies– yanks the door shut behind him, and tries to fold down onto the floor. If his head’s between his knees, then that’s a few more layers between him and everything that’s too loud. But the engine’s vibrations tear all the way through him and splinter him all apart into a hundred thousand million tiny pieces–

He tries to back into a corner but the vibrations are in the walls too and hit right behind his shoulder blades–

He skitters into the middle of the room but the noise sneaks in through his feet and crawls all the way up and empties him out until there’s no room for shame or embarrassment or anything of himself at all, so he stands in the middle of the room with his hands over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut and tries to pretend he doesn’t have feet because eventually things go quiet again, they do, it’s just a question of how long it takes and how much of him gets peeled away in the meantime–

A different kind of quiet settles over him.

Not the raw type of quiet that usually arrives after the noise has worn itself out.

This is a solid quiet. As if someone has built a wall between him and the noise and has told it very sternly to stay out.

The vibrating roar of the engines has dulled into an almost imperceptible hum. Like how it should be.

He can’t hear his hammering heartbeat anymore, and his breathing is comfortably muffled.

He pries his eyes open carefully, in case someone actually managed to put a blanket over his head.

No one has.

But there’s a blanket on the floor in front of him.

He bends down and picks it up.

It’s brown. Brown is a quiet color. And it feels nice on his hands.

He considers it for a moment, and then drapes it carefully over his head.

Oh. That’s much better.

In the dark and quiet, he has enough room to breathe properly.

And as he works on that, a slow, simmering shame begins to kindle uncomfortably behind his ribs.

That–

That wasn’t good.

The last time he’d let that happen had been on Kamino. An alarm had gone off in the barracks. A false alarm– the announcement came over the comms, calling off evacuation protocols– but the shrieking whine hadn’t shut up, and Stitch hadn’t been very big then so he’d opened his mouth to drown it out himself, and then Fractal had tackled him and dragged him under the bunk and pressed his face into his shirt so he could scream quietly and he’d squeezed him tight enough to force out all the noise that was trying to fill him up and–

He cuts the rest of that thought off, and breathes it out.

Then he breathes out the hiccups, and the ache behind his eyes, and the prickling numbness in his feet.

This time, when he peels the blanket off his head, the lights don’t hurt anymore.

He stares at the wall.

Then he shakes out the blanket, intending to fold it up, until he sees something that stops him short.

The blanket has a hood.

He stares.

Sleeves, too.

Then he remembers–

They don’t have brown blankets on the ship.

He looks down.

The thin line of light under the door is partially blocked.

Someone is sitting outside.

He looks again at the blanket-that-is-not-a-blanket.

At the blanket that is a cloak.

Clone troopers do not wear cloaks.

After a moment, he gives up on trying to fold it, and wraps it around his shoulders instead.

Helix says that General Kenobi can be trusted. Helix says to stay with General Kenobi because he brought troopers home safe. Helix says that General Kenobi stopped the decommissionings and that he wouldn’t ever send anyone back to Kamino, not even if they were–

Not even if there was something really wrong with them.

(Helix says that General Kenobi is kind.)

Stitch takes a deep breath.

“We are learning,” he tells himself sternly, “how to be more than afraid.”

He opens the door before he can think better of it.

General Kenobi looks up.

Stitch hesitates before settling down cross-legged onto the floor next to him.

“Hello, sir.”

“Hello, Stitch.”

His voice is very gentle. Not loud at all.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, sir.”

Then, belatedly–

“How are you feeling?”

The General smiles, and Stitch relaxes. “Quite all right, Stitch. Thank you for asking.”

“You’re welcome,” he says quietly.

They sit in silence for a long moment until something occurs to him.

“Did you make it quiet?”

“I did.”

“Oh. How?”

“Nothing in your head, if that’s what you’re worried about,” General Kenobi says easily, and Stitch hastily remembers to worry about that and then remembers to be relieved that he doesn’t have to. “I have a friend who gets… overstimulated. Have you heard the term psychometry before?”

Stitch shakes his head.

“It is, in essence, the ability to read impressions by touch. Very useful, when used carefully, but occasionally he will glean something by accident, and sometimes those things are… overwhelming. We– myself and my friends– learned when we were much younger what would help. Creating a bubble of sorts would muffle other stimuli and give him time to reorient himself.”

He gives Stitch a sideways look, and says pointedly, “He’s quite the fierce fighter, and I couldn’t ask for a better friend.”

Stitch ducks his head, feeling a burning flush crawl up the back of his neck.

“The– the bubble,” he says haltingly. “Did you– when you make it– with the Force?”

The General lets it slide. “I did.”

Stitch makes a face, and General Kenobi laughs.

He can’t help it. The Force doesn’t make sense, especially not General Kenobi’s, and it bothers him. Helix too, he knows.

He doesn’t think it bothers Needle.

(But then again, he doesn’t think anything manages to bother Needle.)

The General shifts up onto his knees and closes his eyes, and the world–

Stitch doesn’t know how to describe it.

It settles back into place. Quietly. With no itching. And the noise makes sense again.

“Thank you,” he says, remembering, and really means it. “And– here–”

He pulls the cloak off his back and offers it up.

General Kenobi gives him a considering look.

“You could keep it, if you like,” he says. “I have more.”

“It’s not mine, sir.”

“What if I gave it to you?”

Stitch opens his mouth, and then pauses, scowling. Technically, it would be his, he knows, but not– not in the right way–

The weight vanishes from his hand.

“You don’t have to,” General Kenobi informs him gently, slipping his arms into the sleeves. “It was just an offer. But thank you for giving it back.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

“Would you like me to comm someone?”

“No thank you, sir.”

“All right,” the General accedes easily. “I’ll see you later, then?”

“Please don’t be bleeding,” Stitch ventures, and feels immensely pleased with himself when General Kenobi lets out a sudden bark of laughter.

“I’ll try my best.”

Stitch stays sitting against the wall for some time after General Kenobi leaves.

Thinking.

It’s only when voices approach from down the hallway that he levers himself to his feet and makes his way back to the medbay.

One week later, Needle comes in with their deliveries from the recent requisitions order and gleefully informs Stitch that there is something in it for him.

Stitch, bewildered, accepts the package.

After some unsubtle encouragement from Needle, he opens it carefully.

Headphones.

Good headphones.

And the tag–

The tag says his name.

They’re his.

(Properly.)

Later, Stitch concludes that General Kenobi sees the whole galaxy the way Helix sees him.

He thinks that’s a lot of people to love quite so much.

#shoulder the sky #anyway being '81 is 100% stitch's way of describing masking #i have strong feelings about masking-related trauma #also known as “in which i bully stitch to make myself feel better”

156 notes · View notes

zeb-z · 8 months

Text

I'm actually unbelievably unwell about Etoiles character you don't understand. He's always been a sword, protecting by attacking first, by fighting back, offense as the best defense. He jokes a lot about dying for the island, dramatic and half sarcastic, but there's truth in his jests. He would kill, and he would die, for his daughter, for the rest of the eggs, for the safety of everyone on the island. He does not hesitate, for what good would that do him?

Then he gets the shield, and it changes the entire game. And while he can still kill to protect the island, he can no longer truly die for them.

His role is functionally the same - he draws attention to himself, he's just as ready for a fight as he's always been, he fights the codes to protect the island - but its the difference between a sword and a shield, because of his literal shield.

He's the only solid defense between the codes and the island, and all the eggs. The only one who can tank the hits and negate the effects of their crazy powerful swords.

A sword cannot hesitate, but a shield must consider it - he cannot take risks when he’s fighting in the Colosseum, because if he dies he’d lose the shield. He cannot risk attacking the fake Pomme without hesitation, not until he’s sure beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s not his real daughter.

A shield must be sturdy. It must hold up under pressure. It must stay strong and reliable, no matter the circumstance - as the eggs go missing and everyone else crumbles, Etoiles cannot follow suit. He will play his part and defend the island, shouldering what the others cannot, because who else will do what he does?

To lose the shield would not only mean to lose himself, but to lose his family. He cannot fall without failing the entire island, his loss would mean disaster, for who is he if he’s not standing between the ones he loves and the monsters that threaten them?

He's as much a shield as the one he carries.

#he’s a thrill seeker a fight chaser and he paints a target on his back because he can tank the hits and better him than the eggs #he’s a shield in steady hands he’s the protector of the island - an apt comparison yknow #if he loses his shield they’re fucked because it’s their only defense. HE is their only defense. Ugggh #he’s so. like. atlas coded yknow. weight of the world and whatnot. because who else can shoulder the weight of the sky and keep it #from crushing the earth???#I dunno man. the fact that he’s gotta be the level headed steady reassuring one now too. it’s just fucking with me #my fave my bestie his lore makes me want to rip things with my teeth #mcyt #qsmp #etoiles #q!etoiles #qsmp meta #z speaks

815 notes · View notes

drauthor · 10 months

Text

sometimes you just gotta write 12.4k words of a rare-pair fic because a fanfic author changed your life and made you want two old, gay men to kiss

as a treat

#writing #fanfic #drauthor writes #star wars #shoulder the sky #drauthor bullshits #i am in suffering #i cranked this out in 17 days #send help #blame shootingstarpilot

6 notes · View notes

themonopolyhat · 1 year

Text

shoulder the sky au: helix whump

[ETA: this one-shot has become a round robin fic via the reblogs, but mind the tags folks!]

i have been dared by @shootingstarpilot to contribute to the helix whump “what-if” for his fantastic shoulder the sky series on ao3, so here we go.

pilot, you and i had the exact same idea on how to make helix’s life even worse than it already is -- namely, we both envisioned him on iwanaga along with obi-wan during dooku’s science project / torture spree. this brainshare is hilarious all by itself.

(i should probably CONTENT WARN for torture, misery, and major character death right now haha)

my thoughts:

+ not sure whether dooku grabs helix on purpose or if it’s an accidental acquisition -- but since helix is along for the ride, and dooku is a bastard, dooku decides to make use of him.

+ therefore it is helix’s job to monitor vitals, update certain chart fields, and administer the antibiotics and pain meds while dooku’s minions or droids or whatever perform the experiments.

+ also because dooku is a bastard, helix has been outfitted with an explosive slave tracker right inside his skull. no escaping or even going where you’re not supposed to be on the base, pumpkin

+ so helix is in the fucking room with obi-wan when dooku questions him, and when dooku threatens him, and when the experiments begin. dooku threatens helix, too -- like shut up and do what you’re told or something real bad will happen. obi-wan all but orders helix to comply because of course he doesn’t want anyone else to suffer on his behalf. so helix shuts up and complies.

+ obi-wan is as quiet as he can be, quiet and straining at the restraints. it’s just another tuesday for helix, watching somebody he cares about fucking suffer while he’s unable to save them

+ helix loses his cool probably around the time that dooku proposes to drain obi-wan’s blood completely? or some other horrible thing, idk. anyway helix responds as any horrified medic with his temperament might, and dooku has him knocked the fuck out.

+ helix wakes up in time to hear obi-wan screaming, and he gets to listen to the screams for a while before dooku wanders in like “oh yeah, if you’re not around to monitor obi-wan’s pain meds, i’m certainly not going to pick up the slack -- he’ll just suffer through the knives au naturel lol”

+ so helix goes back to work. he gets obi-wan’s pain back under control, but of course he can’t do anything about the other sensations, or the sounds, or the smells, or the existential horror of being vivisected alive by your grandmaster who gave you tea

+ helix holds his hand, strokes his hair, tells him again and again: “look at me, look at me, don’t look down, obi-wan, you look at me”

+ they both quickly give up on apologizing for their mutual wracking sobs because they’re in this together, sweetheart

+ one night helix asks obi-wan how he can pray to the force and obi-wan (ever the teacher) haltingly talks about other force religions, the difference between praying and chanting for mindfulness, etc etc etc. he quotes the guardians’ mantra: “i am one with the force, and the force is with me -- and i fear nothing, for all is as the force wills it.” obi-wan seems to find it a little comforting (or maybe dissociative) to say it and hear it said, so helix bends over him and murmurs it over and over and over and over and over, even when obi-wan can’t speak the words himself. he can’t save his general but he can do this thing until his throat rips if need be

+ i don’t actually know whether sidious shows up, but if he does, he gives an Order via holo ahead of time and helix Goes Away for a little while. when he comes back to himself, obi-wan is blinded and deafened.

+ no help is coming. they can’t get out. dooku strips the skin from obi-wan’s hand and helix can only keep the meds at max, repeat the guardians’ mantra to his deaf ears, card a hand through his sweaty, grimy hair, hold his elbow, try so hard to be gentle so obi-wan knows it’s him

+ helix has had a particular intrusive thought since like day three, and he’s been shoving it aside because it’s unthinkable, but y’know, the unthinkable is becoming thinkable the longer he stays on as an accessory to the gruesome torture-murder of his general. helix is a smart guy and figures out how to activate his explosive tracker at the time of his choosing. useful information, under the right circumstances

+ around the time that dooku mentions breaking obi-wan’s spine for lols, helix decides he’s about had enough

+ no idea how he manages to get obi-wan alone in the lab, without dooku or droids or anybody else around, but:

+ the door is locked, the clock is ticking, they don’t have a lot of time before the window of opportunity will be lost. helix undoes obi-wan’s restraints and climbs up on the table with him so he can prop him up in his arms and hold him close. he tucks obi-wan’s nose into his neck and rocks him for a few moments, whispering to him even though his general won’t hear, because he thinks obi-wan knows it’s him and he wants him to feel safe and loved

+ “see you soon, general,” he murmurs through his tears, and fuck, has he stopped crying even once in the past three weeks?

+ he activates the tracker

+ he saves his general

#my writing #shoulder the sky #shootingstarpilot #whump #torture #major character death #suicide #assisted suicide

69 notes · View notes