#And this is where Prime's anxiety began

[yuukirita]

Here you can see the exact moment his spark broke in half

Here's where you can read this au!

[redflagshipwriter]

Halfa Cass

Chapter 6 Preview

Masterpost

(The night Cass came home)

Tim rounded on Bruce as soon as Cass went up the stairs. “Something happened,” he said firmly.

Bruce nodded, brows furrowed up. “I agree. She was shaken. I observed that she was reticent and avoided eye contact at a conversational juncture where she normally does not.”

Tim agreed with a grim, sister-analyzing nod. “Her typing speed was significantly reduced. She was carefully choosing her wording.” Tim scanned over her brief report again and frowned. “There's not an electrical shock that would short out her suit without killing her.”

“So it wasn't electricity, or there was another factor.” Bruce frowned at his screen so hard it was probably cowering inside the code. “Neither Black Bat nor Marvel have any particular scientific competence. I would suggest-”

“Yeah.” Tim cut him off. He rolled his neck and thought it over. They sat quietly for a few minutes as Tim typed up his initial proposal. He broke the silence. “I'll hit up Young Justice and see who has time tomorrow to have a redux of all our creepy lab tours. There's something really weird about that place.” He paused. He side eyed Bruce. “Captain Marvel was right, huh?” He kept his tone deliberately innocent. “What a good catch on his part. I wonder how many people on monitor duty saw the town was dark and didn't think anything about it.”

Bruce grunted. He rolled a few inches back from his computer and picked up a stapled stack of reports. He began reading them intensely.

Tim interlaced his fingers and gave a stretch. Something popped in his back. “If only you'd believed him and let me go along with Black Bat when she said she was leaving,” Tim said wistfully. He was mostly just being a dick. They needed to find out what happened, but everyone was fine. This was a prime opportunity to needle at Bruce's weird reflexive hateration towards his most cheerful Justice League teammates.

Bruce lifted the reports just a little higher to block off his face.

Ha.

Tim left it at that and shut down for the night. Tim had really just been killing time until Cass got back for the night. He hit up the group chat with his mission proposal before he went to bed.

He belly flopped on top of his mattress without bothering to pull the covers over top and powered off easily for his clockwork 7.5 hours. He had weird dreams about Cass getting electrocuted. He woke up feeling unsettled.

“I know she said she got electrocuted,” Tim muttered. He sat up in bed. “But this seems dramatic. She's fine. She walked home and typed up a report.” He rubbed at his breastbone. He didn't know why he was so unsettled.

…Alright, that was a lie. Tim reframed his perspective a little more honestly.

No, no. He did. It was anxiety. He needed to feel he had control over the safety of his family. The way everyone had gone horrified and silent on comms when Cass’s suit reported a flatline to the main computer-

Tim’s stomach lurched. He took a minute to go through some breathing exercises.

It was just a false alarm. It was fine. Except that it had been truly terrifying and it proved that there was something seriously wrong with either their current tech or something extraordinary going on in some decommissioned mad scientist lair.

Fuck. He didn't like unknowns. He was eager to get to the bottom of this Amity Park incident.

Tim fished his phone off the charger and checked the group for responses, heart beat still pounding in his ears. So far, he'd heard yesses from Kon and Bart. Unfortunately, Cassie hadn't viewed the message yet.

He typed up meeting coordinates for the guys and sent it in the same chat. Hopefully Cassie would see it in time, but if not, three was probably enough for the trip.

Making specific plans settled his anxiety enough for him to find some appetite. He ended up very glad that he'd gone to breakfast.

He got an unexpected assist from both Cass and Damian on his point re Bruce's hateration at breakfast the next morning. Tim watched gleefully as they psychologically manipulated their father with opposite approaches.

[bet-on-me-13]

Ellie worked undercover at Cadmus

So, Ellie has grown up and become an Adult living on her own by now.

She is doing her best to make the most out of her life. She went to school, graduated from College, and even got a Job.

She grew up in a Lab, and learned quite a bit about Genetic Engineering over the course of her life both before and after escaping (Both from Vlad, and from Danny during that Point in time where they were trying to permanently stabilize her).

So, when she gets an offer to join a new start-up Company called Cadmus, she jumped at the opportunity to use her Knowledge to help others. (She was told it was a Research Company that used Genetic Engineering to make medicines)

It wasn't until she had already signed the NDA that she figured out that this was an Illegal Cloning Lab.

Thankfully, she was immune to the Mind Control that they had tried to use on all of the Scientists to make them okay with all of the illegal shit, but she still had to play the part so she could help the poor clones who would be created in this project.

She went Undercover for years. Any time a Clone was deemed a "Failure", she would try her best to save them. She did manage to save a few, sending them to Danny so he could help them find a home, but unfortunately she couldn't save them all.

After a few years, the other scientists began to stress out. The K-Series had been a total failure so far, and none of the Clones had even come close to being Viable. Even the most successful one, identified as Match, couldn't come close to being called an actual success.

So, they went a different route. If Kryptonian DNA didn't want to be Cloned, then maybe they could splice it with some other DNA and force it to work with them?

The Scientists began splicing Human DNA into the Genome, running trials to see if it would be Viable at all before even attempting to create a Full Clone. And they did find some success, preliminary tests showed that Human DNA was uniquely adaptable when it came to splicing, and theoretically it could be used to make a Fully Viable Clone!

When Luthor heard of this, he deemed that nobody aside from himself was worthy of being the "Father", and gave his own DNA to the Scientists to use for the Experiment.

Ellie was put in charge of transporting the DNA to the Lab, but in a random accident (we both know it wasn't, Clockwork), she ends up dropping the Sample. In a rush, she just puts some of her own Blood into the Vial and gives it to the Scientists working on the Gene Splicing Project. (She was panicking, ok?! Nobody would be able to work in a lab like this without getting a little bit of anxiety, and she hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in days at that point!)

They are thrilled! They don't know why, but Mr Luthor's DNA was so much better at Splicing than any other Human DNA they had ever tested before. He was certainly right about his own DNA being the beat suited for the Job!

Ellie meanwhile is having a bit of a meltdown. She can't believe she just gave them some of her DNA! And they already used it to make a Fetus! She's a mother now! She never wanted to be a Mom!

But she guesses that none of that matters anymore. She's has a son now, and she needs to get him out of there. But how to do it? As the only successful K-Series Clone, he was under the most heavily guarded security imaginable, so there was absolutely no way she would ever be able to sneak him out of there. Even if she used her powers, the Security was primed to scan for any and all foreign energy signatures, even Ecto Energy.

So for now, she was stuck. She couldn't break him out, and she also couldn't just leave the Company and let them abuse all those poor clones like that! She just needed to wait for the right opportunity to get her son out of there, even if it meant that she would have to stay behind.

It wasn't until a team of errant Sidekicks broke into the Lab a few years later, that she had a way out for her son.

[fizzyxcustard]

One More White Hair.

Masterlist of fan fiction

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairing: Thorin Oakenshield x Fem!Reader (human)

Warnings: ANGST! Insecurity, mutual pining, fluff.

Summary: From the imagine, "Imagine that Thorin is in love with you but won't let on as he believes he's an old man and is no good for you'.

Comments: Requested by two anons and @lemond57 Thank you to everyone who voted in the poll regarding when this fic should be set. The majority asked for post Quest. We also get a bit of match-maker Dis. So, enjoy!

As always, if you like the story, please consider a reblog. It really does help. If you would like to be added to any of my story tag lists, or my Follow Forever tag list (where you’re tagged in everything) then please let me know.

Thorin sighed as he stood in front of his full length dress mirror. He was sure that another grey hair had appeared overnight. It shone silver as it wove through his braid. Each hair was a reminder of all those years that he was ahead of you. But nothing could stop his heart wanting you as much as it did. By human years you were in your prime of life, at your peak. Thorin felt as though he was now deflated, crumbling away as he approached his second century. Surely if he had met you all those years ago when he was young, and his hair was black and his skin free of blemish, you would have fallen for him. The scars which littered his body acted as a map of all the wars he had participated in. Each blemish was a sign of his experience. Your skin was still unmarked, unbroken. So much innocence.

That evening would be your weekly dinner with Thorin, the rest of his court advisers and Dis. Since being part of the King's Company only a few months prior, Thorin had made sure you now had a home, security and position. You remembered your first day at council, all eyes were on you. No one of the race of Men had ever taken a seat on Dwarf council. However, as time passed, you had gradually found your place. Dwalin and Balin had welcomed you immediately, having been two of your traveling companions.

In your bedchamber and you began pushing through the clothing which hung in your wardrobe. Dresses, tunics, shawls, cloaks, robes. One dress sat at the end of the line of clothing: it was the dress that Thorin had gifted you upon moving into your bedchamber. It was deep, midnight blue. Dresses always made you feel insecure, as if unwanted attention would be drawn to you and mockery would be shown. And this one had been no exception, until now. You picked it up and draped it over your arm. Something hit you, a revelation... it was the same colour that Thorin always wore. Had this been a simple coincidence? Probably. You highly doubted that Thorin would have thought that deeply into such a thing as this.

With a sigh, you shifted away and began to dress for the occasion.

Thorin was first in the hall, sitting at the head of the table. And gradually everyone began to appear, filling up the seats around the long table. Wine and ale was on hand, plenty to keep everyone merry.

You sat at the far end of the table, next to Balin. First off, you placed a napkin into your lap, preparing for the meal. Then you looked up and noticed Thorin glancing at his own reflection in a goblet. Why did he do this so often? Was he becoming vain?

Thorin sighed and looked over toward you, noticing that you had your gaze in your lap. But his heart hammered in anxiety and delight at the sight of you wearing the dress. It looked just as he had imagined; it was a snug fit and showed off your curves beautifully.

Balin smirked to himself as he noticed Thorin watching you. It had become known within the main circle of advisers that Thorin had his eye on you. However, you remained oblivious to the fact.

The evening went as it normally did: eating, drinking and plenty of chatter.

You noticed that Dis kept whispering to Thorin, nudging him. But his face would then contort and grow angry, until finally he hissed something at her and she crossed her arms in frustration. "I think you take the stubbornness of Dwarves to a whole new level!" Dis exclaimed.

"Enough!" Thorin bellowed.

Everyone stared for a second at the King and his sister, then shifted their nervous gazes elsewhere.

"Umm, we'll begin taking our plates to the kitchens," you proposed, feeling awkward. The rest of the table, apart from Thorin and Dis, muttered in agreement and grabbed their plates and cutlery, hurrying to the kitchen, which was just out of the hall.

Thorin and Dis remained sat down, almost side by side.

"Thorin, I'm being serious, you need to tell her," Dis said, her voice soft but firm. "You've given everything for this kingdom, for our people. You deserve some happiness. I see the way you look at each other."

"Dis!" Thorin warned.

"You think the fact you're older than her makes a difference. It doesn't."

"Look at me!" Thorin exclaimed. "I'm an old man. What kind of woman would want..."

"She would," Dis replied. "Trust me. You've got nothing to lose here, Thorin, and everything to gain. Just talk to her."

Thorin sighed and smiled weakly at Dis. "I shall."

As the guests of Thorin's dinner began to disperse, he called you back. "Can I talk with you privately?" he asked.

Dis smiled to herself and winked at Thorin as she disappeared out of the main double doors.

"Of course," you said. You sat down at the table where Dis had been sat. "You look worried. What's bothering you?" The set of his face seemed to be that of anguish. Did this relate to his outburst earlier?

Thorin blinked hard and looked down at the table.

You reached across and took his hand. "You've put your faith and trust in me this far, please do not stop now."

"I..." Thorin began, his silver blue eyes locked with your gaze. "I love you."

You gasped, unable to hold back your shock at this. "You...you..."

"I love you," he said again. "But I'm old, and while I know my sister means well, she doesn't see the years on my face that I do. Every time I look in the mirror, I see one more white hair. My body is littered with scars. I should not be yearning for you the way I do...."

You gripped his hand tighter, your thumb caressing his. "You're not old. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"What?"

You smiled as you saw his eyes widen in shock. "I mean it. You are. You might be older than me, Thorin, but I never see your age. I just see a beautiful man who I would never have any chance with."

Thorin chuckled. "You're very wrong in your estimation of chances."

You brushed your hand through his long locks, still smiling as you did so. "These white hairs just add to how handsome you are, you know?"

"You are trying to flatter me now..."

"No, I'm speaking the truth. I'd never speak anything but truth to you. I've seen you look at your own reflection so many times, and I kept wondering if you were growing vain."

Both of you couldn't help but laugh.

Thorin cupped your cheek with his hand. "It felt like with each new white hair you were growing further and further away from me."

"Never," you whispered, and leaned in for a kiss.

***

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[sleepyangelkami]

BLOODY NOSE s.harrington

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 1.6K

STEVE HARRINGTON X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - your clumsy self was used to running into things and hurting yourself, so much so that you practically couldn't even feel the pain anymore. however, a little blood was enough to scare you. thankfully, steve is there to clean your bloody mess up.

 ☆ WARNINGS - blood, kinda gorey, clumsy!reader, ditzy!reader, crybaby!reader (the reader's a lot of things, okay??), worrying, anxiety, mention of knife?, attentive!steve, pre-established relationship, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

clumsy was your middle name, at least it should be.

you can't recall the last time you'd gone a full week without falling over and skidding your knee or banging your head into the pole you were walking towards. something about hurting yourself came so easy to you. perhaps it was because you were a buzzing ball of energy and no cones would stand in your way.

and steve harrington couldn't have you any other way.

allthough, he'd love if you'd actually look where you were going, he didn't really mind shutting the cupboards after you to make sure you didn't hit your head or switch off the gas when you were finished baking so you didn't light the house on fire, or even snatching your arm and forcing you to one side of the street so you didn't walk straight into the pole right in front of you.

however, sometimes he truly did wish you wouldn't be so clumsy.

as cute as it was, he couldn't deny that he was a worrier. a worrier until his last breath. your every move had him on his tip toes, making him turn grey in his prime and forcing the wrinkled lines on his forehead.

there was no denying that steve was sort of alike a mother to everyone he let into his life. a father? no, no. a mother. which was sort of odd, seeing as he was also your boyfriend.

often times you were strolling into family video with another bruise or scratch. you didn't mind though, because there was no blood. truthfully, steve was always much more worried than you were, trying to hold your leg still as he patched a plaster on it.

you were always swinging your dangling legs across those tables.

as time progressed, so did your relationship.

steve supposed that he never stopped being worried, he just began being prepared. plasters in his pockets, always watching you with a close eye.

until he wasn't.

it was late in the afternoon, a chopping knife in your hand. you were cutting up some fruits, wooden chopping board soaked in many different colours due to the juices that fell from them. steve knew how you loved your snacks in the evening, especially fruit, you had this awful craving for them. perhaps it was due to the dehydration you had when you constantly forgot to drink water. usually, steve had to follow you around with a water bottle.

usually, this was steve's task.

he didn't often leave you alone with a knife. actually, come to think about it he never left you alone with a knife. he knew that the outcome would not be as blissful as one would imagine.

even now, after you'd begged to cut up your own fruit. you'd told him that you were a lady, not a toddler. he had to agree. and as nervous as he was, he sat by the counter. his eyes were strained on your hands, chopping up the fruit.

the knife slid from each piece of fruit, you grasping the little chunks and tossing them in a bowl. "you want any?" you questioned, back sort of turned to him as you sliced the pear.

"no, honey, i'm okay―" smiling at you before realising he was smiling at you meaning your face was turned away from the fruit. "eyes on the fruit, sweetheart." though there was obvious worry laced in his tone, his own throat clenching at the mere thought of you practically slicing your hand off.

honestly? it wasn't too far fetched with what you'd done in the past.

steve watched as you dropped the knife a little too carelessly onto the chopping board before sweeping the bowl into your hands. he'd breathed out a sigh of relief, thankful the worrying and bubbling anxiety of you slicing a limb off was over.

unfortunately, that feeling of relief? yeah, it didn't last too long.

"See that wasn't so hard―" before he could so much as utter out a word of caution, much too wrapped up in the whole knife business, the open cabinet drawer was hitting you right in the face, a loud "ow!" falling from your lips.

"shit." instantly standing from his seat, making his way over towards you.

holding your hand up to your face, you uttered the muffled words. "'m okay, i jus―" turning to place the bowl of fruit onto the counter before "ow!" slapping your face against the same cabinet drawer.

"jesus christ." panic evident in his voice. "just―just don't move, okay?" perhaps that was the best idea, seeing as you moving would possibly result in loosing some form of a limb.

truthfully, it didn't hurt that much.

there was a stinging pain in your nose but you'd felt that familliar feeling many times before. it was almost as if your body had grown numb to the pain. perhaps that was why it was so easy to keep repeating the same mistakes, your body simply didn't care enough to stop.

you said ow due to the pressure though also because you deemed it was sort of necessary. you hit something, you shout "ow" right?

you felt him before you could hear him. "you okay? c'mere, baby, show me a look." the bowl of fruit was discarded on the counter top while one of hands moved to shove the cupboard press closed so you were in a safe proximity, tossing the end of the knife over and tipping it into the sink, out of reach.

finally, his hands came down to your own wrists, gently maneuvering them away from your face so he could take a look at your nose. "'m okay." you quickly quipped, knowing you'd endured much worse than a little bang against some wood. "really, it doesn't hurt that bad." did it even hurt at all? perhaps the feeling of hurt hadn't truly settled in.

steve didn't listen, tipping your head back by his finger against your chin. "doesn't hurt that bad?" you nodded though your head stung a little just by doing so. "yeah, well you're bleeding."

he should have known not to utter those words.

almost instantly, he turned to grab some of the kitchen paper that had been placed on the table, using the roll to grab a couple sheets, knowing you were too far from the bathroom.

bleeding?

the word kept repeating in your head and suddenly you felt dizzy. perhaps it was the hit of the cabinet drawer against your head or maybe it was the way you pushed your hand up to your nose, gazing down at the red crimson that painted your delicate skin.

why did your nose suddenly hurt so bad?

perhaps it was the anxiety building up in your cluttered chest. whatever it was, you could feel stinging in your eyes now, not from any physical pain but instead the pretty silhouette of tears that danced in your waterline, all glossy.

steve took notice of your glassy eyes before you could utter a word. "hey, hey, wh's wrong? does it hurt?" you nodded your head in agreement, despite the dizziness, despite the fact that you didn't know if it was all that entirely true.

he placed the kitchen paper against your nose ever so gently, featherlight. "i didn't... i didn't mean to." your voice came out breathless, sort of wobbly as if you really were going to cry.

steve felt his heart ache a little at that. "no, no, i know you didn't, hey." his large hand moved it's way towards your waist, soothing the skin gently. however, he was suddenly aware of your glance cast down on your hand, covered in a little of the blood from your nose. "hey, c'mon, pretty girl, 's just a little blood, no biggie, okay?"

once again, you nodded as a response, sniffing slightly.

"stupid." you mumbled through the tissue held against your nose, stumping the bleeding. it caused the word to come out muffled, practically unheard.

"you're not stupid." he gushed. "it was an accident, it happens."

however this time, you shook your head. "no, not me." his brows pinched together a little, taking the napkin from your nose, dried blood at the base of your nose. "the stupid cabinet door." grouching like a child.

he couldn't help but grin at you, wiping the dried blood from the bottom of your nose. "yeah, stupid cabinet door." he agreed, thankful your fear of blood didn't last too long.

you see, if it was any other situation, you probably would have cried.

but when steve stood so close to you, the scent of him enveloping you, arms practically encaging you. there was something about it that made the world stop, that made you realise a little blood wasn't all that bad. hey, you got attention from the world's best boyfriend, right?

surely, that had to count for something.

half an hour passed, you laid on the couch with a pack of frozen peas against your already bruising nose while leaning against steve's arm. he used his other one to hold a fork, feeding you the chopped up fruit. "better?" he mumbled, unable to catch your eye when you were so engrossed in the tv in front of you.

practically dazed by the animation, you managed to nod your head. "better." mumbling back, barely uttering the whole word.

steve couldn't help but roll his eyes upon realising how much special treatment he was giving you. truthfully, he was thankful you were okay but there was only one thing on his mind. "never lettin' you cut fruit again." murmuring practically to himself.

however, you heard. you snapped your head up, dodging the strawberry with a shocked look on your face. "what why?" he stared at you with a little shock. "i didn't even get cut!"

he rolled his eyes, shoving the strawberry through your lips. "just eat your fruit."

main masterlist/steve's masterlist

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

[inserts Starscream next to Hashtag-] Seriously, its so hard getting a good view of their bunker, and there's never a screenshot of Star at their place so i can only manifest lmao

But yeah! Starscream is now amidst the Malto family and oh boy is this era of the fic complex to write oml. This chapter certainly matched the previous in length, and i feel like that might become a pattern with tryna wrap up these types of interactions/scenes.

Starscream is full of so much hekin anxiety dude, but this time he actually does get a bit of assistance!

Previous Chapter: The Illusion of Freedom

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Bee's Good Guy Crash Course

Chapter 9: Settling Into Circumstance

Finally. 

After an absurd amount of kliks being knocked around the blasted box the bots had apparently needed to throw him in, they reached their destination. Signaled by the gradual slowing of momentum, paired with a collection of conversation, and the trailer door beginning to be pulled open. Starscream was not going to allow either of those femmes to wrestle him out of his predicament, he needed some dignity. So, he maneuvered himself as closely to the entrance as he could to prepare his exit. 

The effort was extremely uncomfortable, but he didn’t care, as long as he got out of there with at least a scrap of his pride intact. As soon as Elita-1 became fully visible, he shoved her aside with one servo while pushing off from the edge of the trailer with the other. “Out of my way!” He’d almost stumbled into a faceplate full of dirt, but instead ducked into a haphazard roll with an involuntary yelp. Not exactly as graceful as he would hope. Starscream’s wings fluttered and twitched in relief from finally being able to move, although it perhaps too could reflect his lingering embarrassment. He quickly picked himself up and dusted his servos with an air of disinterest. “I will never understand the choice to travel by way of wheels.” 

Arcee had the audacity to laugh. “Aww, someone’s cranky.” 

He glared at her, up until he noticed Elita-1 staring him down in turn. A rather malicious grin came upon her faceplate as she approached him. “Have fun at con daycare. Don’t make me come pick you up early.” She hit her shoulder against his as she forced herself past. “C’mon Cee.” Arcee shrugged and they made their oddly hasty retreat, as if they had something better to do.

Starscream flapped his servo in a mocking gesture as he muttered their words in a perfect imitation of what they sounded like. Then flinched to rigid attention when the Prime called his designation. Who was followed by the bug trailing behind him with a pouty squint to his optics. 

“Starscream. Will you follow us to the barn please?” The Prime was apparently quite fond of phrasing his orders as if they were requests. 

“You talk as if I have a choice in the matter.” Starscream tossed his servo at the absurdity before making his way by their side.

“Tough Screamer. We aren’t exactly thrilled about this either.” Bumblebee kept pace if only to point a digit at Starscream to display his clear frustration at the seeker’s intrusion on his human hideout. “But Optimus is trusting me with this assignment–so just know that we’re not here to mess around. This is very serious.” 

“I’m sure he’s aware, Bumblebee.” The Prime was standing right at Starscream’s wing opposite to the bug. Great. Boxed in between two bots to be chaperoned away to a different wooden box. He was thrilled. 

So much so in fact that he began to ignore them in favor of scanning his surroundings. They looked to be in a patch of wilderness cleared out for an organic farm of some sort. Beside the “barn” was assumedly where the humans took residence. The Malto’s human femme guardian, he couldn’t quite recall her designation, was loitering at the entrance. Talking with Megatron. 

Starscream stopped walking. 

What were they conspiring about over there? That human was the leader of their odd family if he remembered correctly. Was that the “Dorothy” Megatron had referenced in the brig? The buckethead already had an inside agent with full control over the operation! She’d report any measly thing Starscream would do–to him. Of course they would put Megatron in charge of this little scheme of theirs. They were probably discussing all of what he should be notified about. Starscream could vent incorrectly. Or tip over one of those fences. Or get one of their designations wrong. Or not stand right. Talk too much. Or not enough. What other things might he be able to do wrong? Megatron would surely be sent to rip his wings off if he didn’t behave how they wanted. But Starscream didn’t know how these mechs thought he was supposed to act! Even when he’d thought he’d known how to navigate the Decepticons, he always had found a way to anger Megatron! 

Primus, he was doomed.

“Are you alright?”

Starscream jerked and shuttered his optics. “W-what?”

It was the Prime. Had they been trying to get his attention and realized he had started to ignore them? Scrap–he’d been ignoring them! And Megatron had certainly seen him shove the femme aside earlier… He was so, so fragged.

“I asked if you’re alright.” The Prime repeated, and Bumblebee was looking at him weird.

Megatron was looking at him.

“YES–never better–in here, you said? So sorry for the delay.” Starscream was trying his oh so innocent tone on the mechs who hadn’t given a single slag back at the Titan; but hey, maybe it’d work this time. He quickly ducked inside the door, and only the bug followed him. He supposed the Prime was breaking away to meet up with Megatron and that Dorothy human. To report Starscream's obvious insubordination no doubt.

He hated it here already.

Red lightning flickered between his wings, and the cracks running from his optics began to burn. When had those gotten there? He suddenly became very aware of how flammable this structure was. 

“You know, I zapped myself with one of the chaos clouds once to beat Breakdown. How come I didn’t get some perma-buff? What, ‘cause I didn’t slap the whole artifact itself on my arm?” Bumblebee complained casually as he hovered his ped above a particular portion of the floor. 

“Trust me, you don’t want this curse.” Starscream absentmindedly responded in a far away whisper. 

“Riiiight. Well, get ready for the drop.”

“The wha– AAh!” The ground beneath his peds pulled apart in a smooth yet abrupt motion that tripped him off his peds and into the opening. Apparently that was what the bug had been up to. He stumbled down the stairs until he fell on his tailpipe with a metallic thunk, which made Bumblebee burst out laughing. Starscream’s wings flicked and his optics flickered red. “Don’t laugh at me! You did that on purpose, you slagging glitch!” 

“Pff– I did warn you, fly boy. But, yeah. Mmmaybe a little bit.” The damn bug looked so smug as his doors fluttered with lingering amusement. “And make sure to watch your language ‘round the kids will ya? Already have to worry about human curse words as is.”

Starscream growled with a roll of his optics, “No promises,” and shakily stood to follow him down the short, newly visible hallway. It quickly opened up into an artificial cavern, which looked like a rudimentary undercity. Well, an extremely small one in comparison to Cybertron’s. And with far too many silly nicknacks strewn about with questionable use. Even so, at least he actually wasn’t going to be staying in the horrible shack above them. And the Terrans apparently did have their own stylized residence that wasn’t falling apart. Perhaps that is why they actually liked their humans. Although a reliance on the creatures would always prove precarious regardless. 

“Here comes his highness.” Bumblebee announced flatly like it was some form of satire, as he entered in front of Starscream to join the others. There were so many of them. That dinobot brat, the avian beastformer, the three wheeler, Sprite’s twin, Hashtag, and those two blasted human twerps. They were all staring at him with varying levels of contempt or apprehension. 

Starscream’s optics flitted across the crowd and hesitated far longer than he should have as his vocalizer betrayed him. “Uh, yes… right, hello.” That displayed too much anxiety, try again. He straightened his posture to exude more confidence and attempted a friendly smile that might have looked a bit more sinister than he intended. “I’m sure you all are absolutely ecstatic to be graced with my presence. So, what redemption inducing activity do we have on the agenda for today?” He couldn’t help but focus his gaze upon Hashtag, who looked too uncomfortably tense. Starscream approached the group carefully with one servo behind him, and acted as though he didn’t notice. 

The human femme brat–it was Mo, he remembered–crossed her arms. “We’re just settling in right now.”

Her brother, Robb something, seemed to finish her thought as he stepped in front of her defensively. “Yeah. Hold your horses Decepticreep.” 

Starscream looked down at him with a twinge of confusion and annoyance. What on Cybertron was a horse? And why in this context would he need to hold them? Regardless, he forcefully kept a smile on his faceplate as the others continued with their own comments. 

The dinobot trotted up with a hunger in his optics that made Starscream inadvertently centihic away from him. “If he tries anything, I can bite ‘im! I’m good at that–”

Bee patted his head with a fond grin, “Cool your core there J.B., remember, a good scout needs to be patient.” Yes, conspire their bloodlust right in front of him why don’t they. Certainly feeling the love around here.

The three wheeler Trash–no, Thrash–stepped up beside the dinobot, “Optimus wants us to give you a chance, Starscream, but don’t think for a second that we’ll fall for any of your sweet talk or poor me con business.”

Starscream put a servo to his chassis in faux surprise at such an accusation. “I would never dream of doing such a thing! I agreed to y–our glorious leader’s generous offer, in a true aspiration towards change!”

“...Not just to get out of the brig?” Hashtag asked skeptically with a tipped servo. 

Starscream’s optic twitched red for a split nano-klik. “Of course not! Our conversation really made me realize my wrong doings, my dear Hashtag.” When he tried to step closer to her, Spitfire’s red clone Twitch inserted herself between them. 

“Give her space Starscream.” The little drone had a stern glare that reminded him of the scowl Sprite so often gave him in the Titan. “Whatever reason you wanna give us, you’ll have to prove it.” The rest of them nodded in agreement.

Except the beastformer–Nightshade was the designation, Starscream was nailing this–who interjected with an effort to diffuse the tension. They raised a servo and put it on Hashtag’s shoulder, while looking at Starscream with a strange…indifference, in their optics. “Come now siblings, let us engage in more friendly conversation. For instance, we can display the room we constructed for our new house guest!” They broke away to begin walking toward a corner extending from one of the structures.

“A room, you say? How exciting.” Starscream’s vocalizer slipped a twinge of sarcasm, although he could admit he did harbor some surprise at the idea. They were providing him with his own whole in the wall where he could potentially keep things from them in? Why would they trust such a thing? There was certainly something sinister lurking within this ruse of hospitality. 

He began to follow them, with Bumblebee doing the same, while the others lingered a bit further behind. Whispers prodded at Starscream’s audials, but those were of no use to him. Let them scheme or complain all they want. He was used to bots talking behind his back.

“I do hope you like it.” Nightshade said earnestly as they gestured a servo in an invitation for Starscream to enter, while they stood to the side. “I did not have as much reference in terms of personability as I did my siblings. So, the decor is primarily influenced by us having a bit of fun with it, admittedly.”

The door was actually constructed perfectly for Starscream’s height. He hesitantly took a step inside with a servo gripping the doorframe, in case a forcefield decided to shut him in immediately. There was a berth fixed against the corner wall, with a couple odd panels that could be distinguished across it. One even seemed like there was an attempt at hiding it with the odd array of colorful, plush squares littering the berth. The walls were painted in accordance with Starscream's own colors, although tainted by a horrendous assortment of human transformers propaganda. Including one that was an offensive illustration of him plastered to a “hang in there” poster. The black ceiling speckled with glowing star decals, barely made up for it. Even if they weren’t arranged to resemble favorable constellations as one would expect from such an effort. The only attempt he could make out was a string lined in a way that vaguely resembled a valve wrench. Although the strangest addition was a human sized lamp that could resemble Bumblebee placed in a corner. Which was backdropped by a sign that read in bold letters: “No evil allowed” with an X’ed out Decepticon emblem. How subtle. 

“So…what do you think?” Nightshade asked hopefully after a stint of silence. 

“They didn’t rig the place to explode, the kids actually tried to put some thought into this thing. So how about maybe a thank you, or something?” Bumblebee had become far too close to Starscream’s wings, and was obviously gearing to shove him inside to make a point. 

Starscream forced himself to release the doorframe from his hold to gain some distance from the looming mech, and made his way over to a different poster. The least disgusting of the bunch, which displayed three familiar seekers soaring through the sky with a burning city below. “Yes, well, it is certainly far more lively than my most recent arrangements.” A groveling thank you at such a ridiculous thing, seemed hardly appropriate. Still, he should probably sound more enthused than that to appease them. “And I appreciate that so much, my sweet little Terran friend!” He tipped his helm to the side with a grin aimed toward Nightshade and ignoring the bug. Then dropped it as soon as he turned away from them again, although still made certain to control his tone. “I see you all have quite the humor about you.” He commented in a vague gesture towards one of the more absurd posters displaying a Decepticon defeat. They’d obviously gone for some acute air of irony in their approach. 

“Ah yes, the others did enjoy adding a couple playful jabs, as one could say, when it came to the posters.” Nightshade shrugged with a grin at the memory. “The stars were my idea. Do you like them? I simply assumed, with star being in your name and all, that it might be something that could appeal to you.”

Starscream could simply say that he did, with some exuberant air of elation. It wouldn’t be a complete lie, after all, the stars were indeed the room’s best feature. Yet his curiosity got the better of him as he hesitated, glancing back at them discreetly. “Why do you care whether I like it?” The whole thing was rather excessive despite their clear disdain for his presence. Why had they bothered? 

“I want to make certain that I did a satisfactory job in making you feel welcome.” Nightshade fiddled with their servo’s anxiously. “This is a rather… odd situation we have come upon. I wish it to go well.”

“That so?” Starscream brought his servos behind him, turning to fully face the Terran again with a smile. “I assure you, your addition trumps all others! Well, except perhaps that poster displaying Megatron getting blasted across a ravine.” As he gestured to it, Starscream threw his ped backward to knock the Bumblebee lamp to the floor with a satisfying clunk. “That is certainly my type of humor.” He succeeded in distracting the Terran from his petty action, yet not the bug, who glared at him from the sideline. Good. He flashed him a sparring glance and a smirk before smoothly shifting attention back to Nightshade, approaching the door again to make his exit. “You and your siblings did a wonderful job, Nightshade.”

The Terran lit up at the praise and clapped their servos together. “I am glad! Perhaps as we all get better acquainted in the effort at becoming allies, we can add upon it with your own input! I promise to not take offense to any changes you wish to make.”

Starscream came up beside the Terran, then began to trace the perimeter of the cavern as he was followed. The other children seemed to have taken to their own perches while still keeping watch of his movements. Did they really have nothing else explicitly planned? The loosely structured nature laid before him made Starscream uneasy. 

“You seem more hopeful than the others.” He began while entertaining his optics with every little detail of his surroundings. “Does… Hashtag share such a sentiment?” Her focus seemed to only be hard locked with whatever was on her datapad. Perhaps it was foolish of him to yearn for some sort of connection with the kid now. She too did think him worse than Megatron, after all…

“Yes. I believe she does.” Nightshade responded decisively with a nod. “Although if I were to disclose further, I fear it would cross a line of privacy for her feelings on the matter.”

“You can’t expect her to be jumping with joy right after you blatantly threatened her back at the brig.” Bumblebee added snarkily as he continued to be a diligent little shadow. “Get a grip on reality, why don’tcha.” 

As if Starscream wasn’t already quite aware. As if he didn’t remember. As if the damned bug thought he was stupid. Why did these bots keep acting as though he couldn’t understand the situation they’ve thrusted upon him? Did they really think so low of his competency? Starscream had a perfect grip on reality! His processor never deleted things without his knowledge. Or bent his perception in any way. He knew exactly what was happening–

Starscream in-vented sharply as the crimson lightning sent a surge through his frame that shot pain through his spark, and stopped him in his tracks. He felt a sudden urge to purge his tank–which had apparently obtained a higher energon level at some point–as the cracks from his optics burned. Why had it flared up so much?! Nightshade had given him a positive response hadn’t they? Frag the bug, he needed to focus on what the kid said. Which was…?

That, maybe, Hashtag didn���t hate him after all. Right? That was good.

But he still couldn’t move.

Quintus’ curse was intent on imbueding him with an intense desire to strangle that Autobrat until his smartaft voice box broke. Or whip around and snap at him with a verbal assault that would no doubt lead to a larger altercation. But he knew he couldn’t. Even as it was increasingly difficult to discern the difference between the curse’s power over his processor, or if it actually was what he wanted to do. 

When the bug decided to kneel down in some attempt at gaining his attention, Starscream couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he was too close. “DON’T TOUCH ME!” Starscream threw his servo at Bumblebee, which the lightning empowered to send them both stumbling backwards. Starscream gripped his helm and furiously struggled to will the blasted power to stop shaking every centihic of his frame, and force it back into whatever crevice it’d made for itself. “J-Just–GIVE me a nano-klik to– AUGH COME ON!” He needed control. If he couldn’t even trust his own frame to work with him–

“Dude, Starscream, buddy, you need to chill– just sit down and uh…take deep breaths or something?” Bumblebee sounded as though he were trying to help, but all he seemed to be able to do was state the obvious.

“Don’t you think I’m trying, you slagging fool!? This is your fault! I am NOT delusional, or crazy, or any of those things you idiots want to think!” Starscream growled while throwing his servos around wildly in his sudden burst of anger. The others were coming upon them after having sprung to their peds at his outburst. For once, a large crowd of optics on him was the last thing he wanted. This was bad. If Megatron wasn’t going to be sent to blast him into next week, he certainly was now. They’d stick him with that needle again. He needed to get this blasted power under control. But it just kept cycling in on itself. He felt tired. Yet overcharged all at once. 

Bumblebee put his servos up in some form of surrender but his vocalizer betrayed his own frustration, “How is it my fault??”

“Let me try!” It was Hashtag. “Okay, there’s a 5 point countdown grounding thing I found.” She knelt down a couple hics away as she held up her servos. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Starscream stared at her with confusion addled with frustration as his optics flickered, but managed to answer, “...Six.”

“What color’s my paint?”

“Violet.”

“What about yours?”

“Red…blue, yellow–” This seemed stupid.

“Good. How about four things you can feel right now?”

The burning in his spark was slowly beginning to subside. Starscream intentionally scraped his servo down his faceplate to distinctly connect the sensation in his processor. He couldn’t name those things, could he? Not the lingering pain in his patched wing. Or the crick in his knee joint. Those things would surely elicit an awkward reaction.

After his silence, Hashtag continued on with her strange strategy. “What about three things you can hear? Like my voice right now.”

“I suppose…Bumblebee's incessant tapping of his ped. Or perhaps the fact that those lights over there are emitting a ridiculous affront to music.”

Hashtag laughed at his apparent audacity, “Hey, that’s our LED stereo and that music is awesome! I think you could grow to appreciate the glory that is Hatsune Miku. She’s kinda like us! I mean, in a way…”

“What is the point of this…?” Starscream’s wings clicked back into their neutral position as the last traces of lightning retreated from them, and he straightened his posture.

“Well, he stopped tweaking out, so I guess it worked.” Thrash noted with an air of surprise, “Nice work sis.”

Hashtag grinned with a bit of pride as she put her servos on her hips, and kept her focus on Starscream. “To get ya out of your head! See? You don’t have that weird red junk all over you anymore.”

Starscream blinked and realized that he did in fact feel far calmer than he had just moments before. He looked down at his servo and tested the workings of his now only slightly shaking digits. “Hm…” He hummed with the intent of adding something further, but became transfixed with the strangeness of the whole interaction. Thus only continued to blankly stare at his servo, for a long, arduous stint of silence before he found the words. “Thank you. I will keep that in mind.”

“No problem.” Hashtag had a rather sorrowful look in her optics as she brought her servos up to hug her frame again. What was that about?

Starscream narrowed his optics at the group. “Don’t tell Megatron about this.” He phrased it as a stern warning, despite knowing his inability to make threats at the moment.

“Still afraid of ol’ Megs there Screamer?” Bumblebee had a quirk of amusement on his faceplate, even as there was that odd, pitying expression lingering behind it as he crossed his arms. 

Starscream scoffed, but moved on. Any topic but that. He could deal with it at a time that decidedly wasn’t now. “What is this Miku you speak of Hashtag? Perhaps you could attempt to convince me.”

Hashtag’s attention perked and she bounced in place, “Oh that is SUCH the rabbit hole–” She whipped out her datapad and ushered him to follow her to some sort of seating area. “Get ready to be absolutely dazzled by the sickest lore and the most bangin’ of bops!”

Starscream followed and sat by her side as the crowd began to find their own places again. “That could be questionable, but I suppose that is what you will be attempting to convert me into believing.” He grinned at her in a way that encouraged a challenge. “Try me.”

After a surprisingly long and passionate presentation; he couldn’t say that he was wholly convinced of why this Hatsune Miku character deserved to be on such a pedestal with millions of mindless followers. Although he could admit that some of the messages were rather intriguing. And some of the music, not half bad. He might even consider a servoful of them borderline good. Particularly that “Rolling Girl” one. 

Perhaps between Hashtag and that Nightshade Terran, Starscream might actually be able to stay sane in the Autobot’s newest prison. At least there was some semblance of room to move. At least he wouldn’t be alone. 

He could focus on the rest later.

[sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes]

snakes and octopi give the best snuggles

Word count: 2,727 (wow, satisfying!)

Warnings: nightmares, brief descriptions of violence and gore, brief descriptions of kidnapping, spoilers for the movie Martyrs (2008), cursing, could be interpreted as u!Patton but he's more just young and foolish

Relationships: dark side family, focus on platonic anxceit and platonic dukexiety, no romantic ships

Characters: Virgil, Janus, Remus, Orange Side, Roman (mentioned), Patton (mentioned), c!Thomas (mentioned), Logan (mentioned)

The first Sanders Sides fanfiction I've finished writing in nearly 4 years!!! Woohoo!

Note: part of this is inspired by the beginning of Alice In Wonderland (2010)

“I really don't see why that's such a big deal.”

A snake crossed his arms from where he leaned against the counter. A hot-blooded short fuse paced across the living room carpet.

“You should be able to! He thinks he's so high and mighty, trying to take as much creative control as he can for himself! It's absurd!”

“On the other hand, giving too much control to You-Know-Who could be disastrous.”

“Good! Maybe those three need a wake up call, Janus! They get to sit on their fucking diamond-encrusted thrones all day while we rot in this putrid basement!”

Janus stood up straight, letting his muscles tighten slightly, “my job is Self Preservation, and the best way to keep our Centre’s mental health at its prime right now is to let them walk all over us.”

The other side narrowed his eyes, “and what's that going to do in the long run, huh? Make their high horses’ legs even longer?” he stomped over to the deceitful side, poking his chest, ”shove their heads even higher up their own asses?!”

“What it'll do in the long run,” Janus clenched his fist, “is for us to begin influencing Thomas when he's at a less busy stage in his life. Intrusive thoughts and dark creativity aren't good for adulting, Wrath. Be reasonable.”

“I'll show you how to be reasonable-”

“Guys?”

Orange and Yellow both shrieked at the small voice, whipping around to see Gray looking at them through the bannister, blanket pulled around his shoulders and his hair a mess.

“God, we need some sort of alarm for when you pop up…”

Janus glared at Wrath and turned to look at the youngest side, his expression softening.

“Another nightmare?”

Anxiety nodded.

“Come on then,” Janus took the boy's hand and led him back up the stairs, but only after calling a quick “you're burning up!” over his shoulder, and Wrath immediately ran to get himself some ice water.

Janus sat at the boy’s bedside, silently watching as he pulled the covers up to just under his eyes and laid back to rest his head on the pillow.

“Come on then,” he reached onto the floor and grabbed Anxiety’s favourite bat plushie, passing it to him, “tell me what happened.”

The small side hugged the toy as tight as his little arms would let him as he began to recall the events of his night terror.

“I-I was on a stage, in front of millions of people… we were performing some sort of comedy.”

“We?” Janus chimed in, “who else was there?”

Anxiety paused for a second and grimaced as he focussed on the memory, “well there's Thomas, a-and… the light sides.”

Deceit made a rumbling sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, hand gripping the bed sheets.

“And… they hate me,” he pressed the bat plushie to his face, “s-so much. They say I'm bad, a pest mist.”

“Pessimist,” Janus gently corrected, though his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

“Yeah, that… and…” Anxiety’s trembles grew, “and…”

Janus shushed him softly, “hey, hey,” he opened up his arms, an invitation, “it's alright, spiderling. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

The child shook his head and crawled into the hug, breathing out as strong yet gentle arms enveloped him.

“No, no, I-... I wanna.”

The elder side nodded.

“I, um, so I tried to fix the problem by quitting the show, throwing in the towel, all of that…”

“Yeah?”

“But t-that made them even more mad. They chased after me, broke into my room,” Anxiety tightened his grip on Janus’ shirt as more tears welled up in his eyes, “they took me away from you, and w-wouldn’t let me see you ever again!”

Janus swallowed.

“Impossible,” he whispered, “they would never be able to keep us away from you, my dear. We'd tear down every wall in the Mind Palace to get you back.”

The child went still, his breath catching in his throat.

“Virgil?”

Silence.

“I know you’re awake, sootywing.”

“You’re gonna be mad…”

“You don't have to hide anything from me, honey. It's just a dream.”

“W-well…” he swallowed, “in the dream y-you did try to get me back at first. But then…” fresh tears messed up his eyeshadow even more, “then you said that things were better here without me, that- that-”

Janus stopped resisting his urges, allowing his other 2 pairs of arms to wrap around the small side.

“Never,” he hissed fiercely, rubbing Virgil's back and holding his face in his hand, “you could never make things worse, my little raccoon.”

“They said the opposite,” the other whispered, voice still shaking but less so now that he was in one of Janus’ super-special-super-rare hugs, “that I just make Thomas's days worse, that I'm a burden on him that needs to be controlled, that-”

“-is absolutely not true,” Janus finished for him.

“Is it though?”

Janus frowned.

“I-in the dream,” Virgil continued, “after you guys left me with them for a while, I s-started to get used to being with them a-and eventually,” he hiccuped, voice thick with guilt, “I was happy with them.”

“Sweetheart…”

“I'm sorry!” Anxiety sobbed into his chest, “I don't know why it happened, I-”

Janus laid Virgil back into his bed, tucking him in with his bat plushie and gently wiping away his tears.

“That was just Stockholm Syndrome, honey.”

Virgil tilted his head to the side in confusion, and Janus melted a little at the pure objective cuteness of the small action. This kid wasn't just his spiderling, his black kitten, his baby bat, his raven, the Dark Mindscape’s little hidden butterfly, their raccoon… he was now his little black lab puppy too.

“It's when a hostage sympathises with their captor,” Janus explained, “It happens often. And remember, this was all a dream, it doesn't mean you would actually feel that way if it happened.”

The kid nodded and took a few deep breaths, blinking slowly before looking back up at the older side.

“D-do you think I'm bad?”

“Oh, darling,” Janus leaned down to press a kiss to his kid’s forehead, “we're all bad here.”

Virgil leaned up to trace his little fingers along Janus’ scales, and Janus gently took his hand in his own and kissed it too. Virgil smiled a little at that, and the sight was enough to fill Janus’ heart with joy for weeks.

“Well,” he mumbled under his breath as he pulled away, “that's what Morality thinks.”

“What was he like? Before the split?” Virgil heard him anyway. Janus forgot the kid had near-superhuman hearing.

Janus leaned back and thought for a moment, “at one point, we were very close. Back before he decided that lying is never good,” he frowned slightly, “we used to… bake cookies together, things like that.”

“Could we do that?” Virgil piped up, “bake cookies? It sounds fun.”

The yellow one smiled, “of course, hun. Just make sure Duke doesn't try to put glass shards in the batter.”

“Or Wrath with the hottest hot sauce?”

“Yes, that too.”

Janus looked around the room absentmindedly, eyes eventually locking onto the terrarium containing his baby’s baby tarantula.

“You know, if those light sides are ever mean to you, you could start feeding Charlotte fatter worms.”

“Why?”

“Because. She'll get bigger, and bigger, until one day she looks like Shelob…”

The snake side leaned down so that his face was inches from Virgil's, and smirked.

“...and you can set her after them to gobble them up!” Janus scuttled the fingers of all six of his hands along the boy’s sides, mimicking the movement of a spider’s legs, making the child shriek with laughter.

“Hahahahaha! Stop! S-stop! Janus!” He gasped out between giggles.

Janus eventually let him go (though only after having thoroughly enjoyed the angelic sound of his kid’s unbridled laughter) and sat back up, looking down at the little jumping spider with a smile he would never let anyone else see.

“Do you feel better now?”

“Mhm,” he nodded, “thanks, J.”

“It's my pleasure,” he murmured, reaching out to cup Virgil's face for a moment, green and purple eyes meeting yellow and brown ones, before standing up and walking towards the door.

Right as he opened it, Virgil called out to him again.

“Janus?”

“Hm?”

“I love you.”

He melted even further at that.

“And I you,” Janus breathed out, voice and face full of fondness, “more than you'll ever know.”

Virgil's eyes shone along with his smile, and Janus took in the sight for a moment before switching off the light.

“Try and get some more sleep, hopefully with dreams full of fluffy spiders.”

“Night, Jan.”

He shut the door gently.

As his door shut, Virgil's room was cut off from the light in the hallway and plunged into pitch darkness. While he didn't mind this at all, he wasn't the slightest bit tired anymore, and it was hard to read books in the dark.

He reached behind his pillow and grabbed his trusty flashlight, fiddling around in the darkness until he found the ‘on’ button.

When he finally turned it on, the first thing he saw was a mad face inches from his own.

“Hey Virgie.”

Said side immediately screeched and whacked the intruder on the head with the torch, already hyperventilating.

“Remus, oh my God!” he shrieked, “I thought you left here when I fell asleep last night!”

Having already recovered from the blow, the Duke sat up and shook his head, specks of blood splattering on the bed sheets and walls.

“Nope! I've been here all night pretty much!”

“What? Where?!”

“Well,” he suddenly turned shy, ”you know how you've been having problems with that monster under your bed?”

“Of course,” Virgil groaned.

“I know, I know, but listen to this! There's a portal under your bed that leads to my room!”

“You can come in here when my door is locked?! When I don't want you to?!”

“Well, not anymore. Now that you know it's there you can lock it whenever.”

“Oh,” Anxiety breathed out and nodded, “that's okay I guess.”

“So!” Remus started, “while you were asleep I portaled to my room to get some stuff and…”

The Duke reached behind his back and pulled out a DVD case, shoving it right in Virgil's face.

Virgil read the title on the front of the case and gasped, “Martyrs? Remus-”

“I know! I was able to get a copy dubbed in English too! The movie just came out so I think it's a great find!”

“But-”

“And, like, Virgie, I know you can speak French for some reason and all but frankly the language sucks and I want to focus on the gore instead of the subtitles.”

“Remus, it's an 18+ movie!”

“Yeah!” He grinned manically, “you're 8, I'm a teen, and there's a plus because it's premium, just for us! Come on, let's watch it! I know you're wide awake after that nightmare.”

“Oh!” Virgil bellowed, “so you were here when that happened and you did nothing! Great! Thanks! You're such a good big brother!”

“I didn't wanna make it worse!”

“And why would that happen?”

“You were sleep-talking.”

“...Oh.”

“Mhm.”

There was a moment of tense silence.

“Any-fuckin’-way,” Remus hopped up from the bed and turned on the TV on Virgil's dresser, “Martyrs time!”

They were both sitting on the floor, Remus hugging Virgil from behind with his chin resting on his head.

“Jan and Wrath were talking about you when I went down.”

*Really?” Remus mumbled as he continued to stare at the screen, watching in awe and admiration as Lucie shot each member of the family who tortured her.

“Mhm,” Virgil nodded, “something about creative control.”

Remus froze as he processed the words, scrambling to pause the movie before staring down at his friend, “what did they say?”

“Uhh,” Virgil’s mind blanked for a second as he continued to look at the screen, which had been paused on a frame of the dead daughter, “someone trying to take it away from you?”

Remus stayed silent.

“And then they called you Dark Creativity?”

“I-” he stuttered.

“And then they said there were 3 light sides instead of 2-”

Remus pushed the words out as quickly as possible before Virgil could interrupt him again, “I’monlyhalfofCreativityandtheotherhalfismybrother.”

Virgil stared at him blankly as his brain slowly dissected the jumble of words just thrown at him.

“You're… not all of Creativity?”

Remus shook his head, not wanting to speak for one of the only times in his life.

“...How?”

“Well… the reason we're all split into light and dark is because the original Creativity split first. When Thomas was around your age he got too Christian and decided all the fun stuff was bad so it was forced out and voila! It made yours truly. And then Morality decided to split all of us off.”

“Why?!”

“I dunno, for funsies I guess.”

“Huh… So is your brother the one trying to take more creative control?”

“Eugh, probably.”

“Don't like him then, I'm guessing?”

“He's the worst!” Remus hollered, “all glitter and ponies and magic godmothers! The only ones who die on his side of the Imagination are villains!”

Virgil gasped, “is that why I'm not allowed in the Imagination alone?!”

“Yeah, but don't go snooping around now that you know that! And don't let Wrath or Janus know that you know about my twin!”

“Why?”

“They wanted to wait til you were older so you would understand. The split is behind us, Virgie. It's the past. And you came after it. You being a dark side from the moment you formed was the start of our perfect family. You don't need to dwell on something you didn't exist to see.”

“Okay,” Virgil nodded and then giggled, “way to bash the entire subject of History there.”

“If you learn from it you can't repeat the best bits!”

Virgil laughed and relaxed into his friend's hold as he unpaused the film.

Both of them stared at the screen as the credits rolled.

“Keep doubting…” Remus echoed.

Virgil hummed in thought, “what afterlife would make someone want to go to it, but for others to not know what it is?”

“Maybe if there's none at all?”

“But then why would she want to stop living?”

“Because she knows all the work she's done torturing people til their last breath was for nothing, and that life really has no meaning at all?”

“No afterlife is boring though, Remus. Surely you agree?” Virgil turned to look back up at him, “wouldn't you want it to be some sort of Lovecraftian hell?”

“Oh, I would love that, you know I would. But, y'know,” the Duke sighed, “Occam's razor gotta cut us out of our skin and bleed us out until we're dried skin suits and a pile of bones.”

“Eugh.”

“Yum.”

“Ew!”

They both giggled. Virgil shifted until his back was pressing into Remus’ chest and he closed his eyes with a content sigh. Watching the goriest movie ever made with his insane best friend really tired him out.

Remus crossed his legs to wrap them around Virgil and tightened his hold. A surge of violent protectiveness coursed through his veins as he thought back to the conversation between him and Janus he had eavesdropped on.

“Hey, salticidae?”

“Hm?”

“If those light sides ever do try to Beauty And The Beast ya or some shit, you can call me to come and help you through the portal!”

“...Oh!” Virgil’s eyes lit up, “that's a great idea! As long as you bring some weapons with you.”

“For you,” Remus grinned, “I’d bring only my best.”

When Janus and Wrath recovered from their screaming match and went to check on the youngest, they were met with a sight that was immediately placed into the family photobook.

Virgil was curled up into a ball while hugging his bat plushie close to his chest, letting out tiny high pitched snores. Remus was wrapped around him with all 4 limbs plus his tentacles, letting out much bigger, grosser snores.

Ironically, being cuddled by the embodiment of intrusive thoughts was a great way to get rid of nightmares.

And, for nearly a decade, everything was perfect for the little dark family.

Until, like the twisted shadow of a Disney Princess, Virgil's dream came true.

[scariusaquarius]

unexpected.

CHRISTMAS ADVENT BONANZA 2K24 Day 11: Heartfelt Present, William Lennox

William Lennox x Fem! Reader Summary: After the death of Ironhide, William takes the loss pretty hard. You manage to recover a piece of the old bot.

-

A/n: today was so busy it was fucking unreal, so this is late, and i'm sorry! But here it is!!

-

Genre: Friendship, Fluff Rated: Everyone Warning: Slightly Angsty, Swearing, William gets a bit emotional

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

The base on Diego Garcia was bustling with life. Autobots and N.E.S.T. soldiers alike were trying to rebuild after the battle with Sentinel Prime and Megatron, voices and machinery echoing throughout the place as everyone tried their best to get things done as quickly as possible.

While the rebuilding was being taken care of by regular soldiers alike, the few highly regarded N.E.S.T members were still taking care of Decepticons while they still could while the U.S. Government decided what they wanted to do with the Autobots.

Time had gone by so fast since then that Christmas was suddenly upon you, and you weren't sure what to do. Did Will even realize what time of year it was? You chewed the inside of your cheek, your pocket feeling heavy as your gift for your colonel as he mulled over paperwork.

You were supposed to be helping him tie up loose ends, but your mind was too occupied with anxiety to be able to focus. You were sure that William had noticed, but he had yet to say anything. However, when you didn't flip the page of a current report you were reading for over five minutes, William finally looked over at you.

"You doing alright?"

You jolted as if you just remembered where you were, and you ducked your head in shame, adverting your eyes away from William's as you replied halfheartedly.

"Oh, uh...yeah, I'm okay."

"You're such a shit liar, you know that?"

His tone was teasing, but William was worried about you. He could tell that you were struggling after the battle; becoming unsure and anxious with everything that you did, and though William didn't want to assume that you no longer wanted to work with N.E.S.T or supported it, he couldn't rule it out.

"My apologies, sir. I just don't want to add more to your plate."

William set his papers down and he turned to you to give his full attention, shaking his head.

"Listen, you're a valuable part of my team, so your well-being matters to me more than some dumbass reports our lovely Director of National Security wants."

You couldn't help but to chuckle, shaking your head at his sarcastic tone, and William smiled slightly. You became quiet; slowly drawing back into your shell as you began to think, and then you sighed and slipped your hand into your pocket.

Taking out a poorly-wrapped gift, you gave it to him, William's eyes widening in shock from the gesture.

"It's...almost Christmas, and you know that I don't really have folks at home, so you guys are as family as it gets. So, uh...Merry Christmas, Colonel."

William was astounded, caught off guard, and he moved to sit next to you, his frame slightly towering over yours as he inspected it.

"Wow, that's so kind of you, (L/n). You know you didn't have to do that, right?"

"I know, but...the opportunity came up and I took it because I knew this would be important for you."

William glanced at you before he carefully unwrapped the gift, and within his hands was a large disc with Cybertronian written on it. William wasn't sure why, but it seemed familiar, and you said quietly.

"It's Ironhide's Audio Receptor. I recovered it from the ashes, and I think it wasn't affected by Sentinel's gun because it fell off first before the rust touched it. I thought that you would want to have it."

William was floored, and his fingers brushed against the disc, speechless. You, however, continued to speak.

"I made sure to ask Optimus if it was okay to give it to you, and even Optimus agreed that you would be the most deserving person to have the last remnant that remains of Ironhide."

William glanced over at you, and he asked you softly.

"Is this why you've been so nervous since the battle? I thought...maybe you just didn't want to be apart of the team anymore. I thought you were waiting to ask me to resign."

Your eyes widened, and you shook your head, waving your hands wildly in front of you.

"Oh, no, no! God, no, I could never leave this job, Will. You, and the rest of N.E.S.T. have become my family. I pledged my life to you, and that hasn't changed. I just...I wasn't sure how to give this to you because I didn't want to upset you...and I wasn't sure if you were gonna go home for the holidays or not."

William wrapped his arm around your shoulders, bringing you close and resting his head against yours, your heart racing within your chest. He couldn't speak, choked up for a moment, and his voice was just above a whisper as he replied.

"This means more to me than you realize. Thank you, truly."

You relaxed against him, chuckling quietly.

"I'm glad that you liked it. I know it's probably a bit weird, but-"

"-No, it's not weird at all."

William cut you off. He sighed for a moment before he pulled away from you to hold the disc with two hands. He was staring down at the metal, his eyes looking exhausted as his shoulders sagged slightly.

"I miss him a lot...he was a good friend."

You rested your hand on his shoulders, your voice gentle.

"I'm sure he thought of you the same way, Colonel. If you'd like, I can take over doing reports so our lovely Director of National Security doesn't decide to drop by just to scream about the reports."

William shook his head gently, smiling before he propped up the disc against the lamp, the metal sparkling slightly within the light as William said.

"No, it's okay. I've got some pretty good motivation to get shit done now."

Smiling widely at William, he playfully nudged you before the two of you began to work on the reports again.

END DAY 11

*cue what i've done, directed by michael bay*

[scarletwritesshit]

🌧️ Furina x Neuvillette 🌧️ Thoughts After the Rain

The image was still burned into Neuvillette’s mind.

That wretched sight of the Hydro blade descending onto Focalors, slicing her body in half and dissolving her remains into water droplets. He has dealt with his fair share of nightmarish scenes over the long years, not just recordings and accounts of crime scenes, but personally as the Hydro Dragon Sovereign. The work he took on as Chief Justice served as his relief from this strenuous mental toil. He focused his mind on the problems and solutions of the court rather allowing himself to be haunted by gruesome scenes time and again. His undertaking of extra work also lifted some of the weight off of Furina’s shoulders.

The stacks of work were doing him no good at this time. As much as he tried to suppress them, the tears would not stop flowing down his face, and his voice remained choked, rending him unable to confide in even the closest of his Melusines to relieve himself of his sealed up thoughts.

The way Focalors kept smiling at him until the bitter end, with not a single regret to be heard in her voice, ripped his heart far more than any plea of desperation could. He had a sworn duty to protect all under him - people, Melusines, even his own Archon. Where did he go wrong, he wondered? Focalors was no longer around for him to seek the answer to this question, and she left behind deceptions still buried behind that final smile.

No chance that Furina would know the full truth herself. She was the prime victim of her other self’s act, and even if she did know a sliver of the truth, it was highly unlikely that she would be willing to open up now. Neuvillette had advised her to take some time to herself as her own person at long last, and measures were taken so that none of the gossip hungry people of Fontaine could spend a single moment of their time harassing her. After 500 years of suffering, he knew that a few moments for Furina to focus on nothing except herself was an important first step in her recovery.

This also meant that he would be leaving her alone for the time being. He couldn’t help but wonder if this break was as truly beneficial as he hoped it to be. Though, he was also concerned that perhaps it was his longing to see the true Archon again that made him desire to see Furina so much. As days had passed with no sign of his tears or the rain letting up, he let out a regretful sigh thinking that perhaps, disturbing the solitude of Furina would be in the best interest of them both, as well as Fontaine’s weather. If Furina were to obejct to him in any way, Neuvillette hoped that she was still not afraid to make her voice be heard.

He came to her place empty handed, as he did not wish to communicate any intent of bribery. Rather, he simply wished to talk with her; even a single word from her would make him feel better about her condition.

Standing in front of her door, Neuvillette took a deep breath, attempting to relax himself and clear his mind. Though, he was still haunted by worst case scenario. He didn’t want to think about the very real possibility that Furina, too, could’ve fallen victim to the execution in a slightly different manner.

Just something, he thought, Anything to give me a slither of hope.

The more he stood there in silence thinking, the more the rain began to pick up. It was better that he gets things over with and knock, rather than let the entire nation flood once more…

He politely knocked on the door with the back of his hand. There was no audible response coming from the inside, which sent a wave of anxiety through Neuvillette. He told himself that there was no need for worry quite yet, and to give her a few minutes before he would knock again. Just before he was about to tap on the door once more, it cracked open, and Furina peered her eyes through the small opening. She looked up and down, scanning the man that stood before her, and allowed Neuvillette to enter once she gained a small amount of confidence.

Her place was drearily lit, with the only trace of illumination being what little sun managed to peer through the window. Neuvillette was relieved to see her alive and still fighting, but he still wanted to break the silence between the two of them, somehow. He couldn’t find any words in him to begin a conversation, not even enough for a simple greeting, as he wasn’t sure what was appropriate to say given the recent happenings. Neuvillette was filled with guilt that he could’ve done something to prevent all of this. Something to save those in Poisson, something to save Focalors, something to free Furina...

Furina sat at her window and looked out at the rain falling down.

"It’s been raining for a while, hasn’t it?" she said, watching the rain with a saddened expression.

"Ah...my sincere apologies," Neuvillette said, wiping the tears that he has been doing a poor job of suppressing.

"Don’t beat yourself up over it. Believe me, its fine. I hardly have a reason or even a will to step outside anyways."

"But Lady Furina-"

"Just Furina. I hold that title no more, Neuvillette."

"Out of my utmost respect for you, it does not feel right to refer to you so...casually."

"Neuv," Furina said, sliding around to face him, "Its fine. I don’t even deserve to be referred to with a name, as I couldn’t save my own nation from a crisis that I had 500 years to prepare for."

"How were you supposed to? You were expected to play the role of god as a mortal, nothing realistically could have been done by you in your situation. If anything, I am the one who should be shamed for their negligence."

"You didn’t know. You shouldn’t blame yourself," Furina said with a sigh.

"It is my duty to know when something is amiss. I have failed both you and my people," he said, averting his gaze.

"You…didn’t fail any of us. In fact, I feel like you’ve done too much for a failure like me. I always worried that you were going to leave me one day due to my incompetence, yet you never did, and for that, I’m...eternally grateful, to say the least."

"Well, I couldn’t leave you. Fontaine would be doomed to crumble in a matter of years if so."

"I probably would’ve crumbled within years."

"Which is why I was so afraid, personally. Losing the nation meant losing a dear friend of mine, yet in a way, I still feel as if I had lost part of her."

Neuvillette could no longer bare to look Furina in the eyes.

"I’m still here Neuv, even if that part of me is gone" Furina said, putting her hand on his shoulder. "And. you still have Fontaine in relatively good shape."

"Perhaps, but it was not without its losses. Those whose lives I failed to save.”

"You mean...those I have failed to save," she said, her hand sliding off of his arm.

The rain picked up again, and Furina was quick to notice the weeping Hydro Dragon struggling to even look at her. She couldn’t even lift her own spirits, but despite this, she felt as if maybe, just maybe, she could bring a little bit of relief to Neuvillette.

She could not stand seeing Fontaine drenched in rain. Not after all of the times she could’ve saved Neuvillette the trouble if she was actually worthy of being a god.

"Neuvillette...please don’t cry. Focalors had all of us ensnared in her performance," she said, attempting to reassure him.

Neuvillette was rather unresponsive to her effort, and it hurt Furina deeply to see him like this. She slid closer to the edge of the seat, closer to where he was standing, and wrapped what she could of her tiny body around Neuvillette. He looked down at the former "Archon" embracing him, feeling the hesitation in her body as she attempts to not overwhelm him with her sudden gesture of affection.

"If it weren’t for you," she said, now holding back her tears, "I don’t even know if I would still be around."

"Furina..."

"Please believe me when I say that I don’t fault you for anything of what has happened. I don’t like seeing you like this at all."

Years of suffering, and Furina was still so quick to forgive him? He couldn’t seem to believe it, but her words and her touch felt so genuine. And with the strings of Focalors finally severed, this was no act with the intent of putting on a show, either.

She wiped a tear from his eye, forcing herself to smile through her own pain, this time for the sake of Neuvillette and not a façade long held.

"Neuv, you’ve meant a lot to me all these years, and I want you to remain by my side as I live out the rest of my life as a human."

"That...is agreeable. In fact, I would be most delighted to be called your most trusted partner."

"More than just that," Furina said, relaxing into him. “And you can drop the formalities with me, too.”

Neuvillette, preferring to uphold his formal tone, decided that, perhaps just this once, he could allow himself a truly honest word with Furina.

“Is that so? I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I told you that…I love you?”

“No, not at all,” she said, no longer holding back her grip on his body.

As he gently stroked Furina’s back, Neuvillette glanced to his side out the window. He had noticed that for the first time in days, the rain had come to a complete halt.

[tripleglitchwriting]

Ignition (Part 4)

Gn human reader, Ratchet-centric

CW: Calling a person an it (unintentionally), mild language, mention of injury

Your head hurt in the morning. It wasn’t a surprise but it also wasn’t welcome. When you opened your eyes, the sky was brightening and the forest showed off its colors once again. You mumbled something about your body being sore while you sat up. Shaking off the drowsy lethargy of sleep, you were once again met with the sight of a giant robot. It was kind of hard to ignore the huge glowing blue eyes piercing your skull.

“Hey there big guy” You said nonchalantly. It just started back down at you, a sober expression on its face. For a second you thought you caught it squinting, but the thing turned away before you would get a good look. Taking this as a prime opportunity to look yourself over, you checked your injuries.

Most of the scrapes you got were scabbing over and in the process of healing. Your leg was still in the splint, but surprisingly it hurt a lot less. The pain wasn’t gone, and you didn’t expect it to be gone for awhile, but it was better. The burn you got was also healing from what you could tell. It could still be felt but at least it wasn’t searing anymore.

When the giant turned back to you it was holding the cup again. You breathed in sharply, wincing as you remembered just how you got that burn. It seemed to notice that, however, and quickly knelt down and set the cup in front of you. Reaching out to touch it, you realized it was cool. Cool and clean. Drinking water. Well, you hoped it was drinking water, but considering the lengths this giant had gone to help you it most likely wasn’t going to kill you. Tenderly you picked up the oversized cup.

“Thanks.” You forgot how thirsty you before you started to drink the water, and in a minute most of the cup was empty. A feeling of freshness washed down your body, but at the same time you began to question what would happen next. You would be well on your way to getting back on your feet if it weren’t for your leg- without crutches it could be weeks before you could safely and comfortably stand. Even if it did help you, what was the giant’s end goal? Why did it help you?

Luckily, it moved again before you could start spiraling. A giant hand, one you’d felt hopeless in before, now sat in front of you with its palm open. The giant wanted you to get on, that much was clear, however that was easier said than done. First of all you weren’t even sure if you wanted to get on. After all you didn’t know where it would take you, what if it didn’t let you go when you healed? What if… oh god, what if it kept you as a pet? The thought suddenly shook you to your core. Fond memories of your healing injuries turned sour.

When the blockade of distraction keeping you from doom spiraling was swept away your body began to tense. Just like so many times before thoughts of horrible things shot around in your head, and this time, unbeknownst to you, they weren’t internal. You mumbled to yourself, staring through the robot. Of course you were still in danger, why wouldn’t you be? You assumed you were safe but you had no evidence, just optimistic assumptions. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The hand still waited for you, but you had a hard time seeing it through watery eyes. Soon enough it retracted, not that you noticed. Subconsciously you expected it to come slamming down upon you. It didn’t. Instead, as you were falling down deeper into a horrible torrent of anxiety fueled panic, it pulled you out. Through one action you were brought back to the forefront of sanity, three simple words stopped the spiral.

“Are you okay?”

————————

The next cycle came quickly. Ratchet came out of recharge just as the planets’ star peaked over the horizon. The organic was still recharging, so he decided to get some work done. First he boiled (and cooled) some more water. Food would have to come later when he knew what to get. He also checked if he received any possibly missed signals- he didn’t. Frowning, but trying not to get discouraged, Ratchet noticed a small movement in the corner of his optic.

They were awake, which was good. Squeaking out some small sound that seemed to be directed at him, too. He offered them the water and they accepted, also good. Now it was time to move on. He needed to get back to the pod and try and get some sort of distress call out, though this time he couldn’t just pick up the probably sentient being in front of him. If he was going to gain more of their trust he needed to be patient, which was absolutely not something he wanted to do right now but it was also not optional. So Ratchet placed a servo in front of them hoping they would get the message and let him help them on.

Unfortunately they gave no indication they wanted anything to do with him. Actually, they seemed a little worse off than before. Their little optics began to water, something he’d noticed happening when he first found them, but now they also made hushed noises. Actually, he thought he could make some of the noises out to be words, but that would be ridiculous. Must be some result of the crash he’d have to figure out later. For now he needed to help.

Ratchet retracted his servo and asked a question almost out of instinct.

“Are you okay?”

——————

Surprisingly, his words seemed to reach you. You immediately snapped out of your dead stare and looked at him like you’d seen something impossible.

“What… was that?” You stammered out, still only half conscious.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

Ratchet’s mind quickly picked up on what was happening, sort of. They reacted like that because they could understand him. And even more, he could understand them. And they were talking. And he needed to reply.

“You can talk. Why could I not understand you before…?” He trailed off in a confused but curious manner.

“Of course I can talk! How can you talk? What the fuck! Why didn’t you just start with that?!”

“Well- well, I- , oh. Oh.” The final piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Wheeljack. The translator. “Of course he would forget to put in a conformation of language synchrony— of all the things! That bolthead.” Ratchet’s face went from confusion to disturbed annoyance.

“Hey! What?” Heart beating out of your chest you shouted at the now talking giant robot, confused and surprised and frankly scared out of your mind.

“Yes, right. I’m sorry, this has got to be a lot for you.” He took a second to compose himself. “My name is Ratchet. I am from the planet Cybertron. I am a medic for my team- the Autobots- and my pod crashed here about a cycle ago. I need to get back to my friends.”

“What?” A million thoughts shot through your head and the only question you could get out was “what”. Fantastic start.

“I installed a translator not long ago, I assumed it would notify me when it kicked in, but the designer apparently didn’t think that would be an important feature, so I didn’t have the chance to softly introduce language. I apologize for that.”

This time you couldn’t even get out a word. Your emotional state was on a roller coaster with no sign of stopping, going from terrified to bewildered in less than a sentence.

“I… didn’t know you were, well, sentient at first. I didn’t ask before picking you up, and I’m sorry, but you were injured. I only want to help, but I can only do that if you let me. My job is to heal, not to hurt. I promise I will not hurt you.”

“I… I don’t… but… I- I just…. This, this… it’s a lot. This is so much. Oh my god.” Great! That was about a solid, what, five understandable words? Better than just “what” you supposed. Its- his own words hit your brain like a brick to a window. Cybertron, medic, Ratchet, Autobot, maybe it was all just some vivid nightmare. You knew better, of course, but a giant robot alien was kind of hard to believe.

“I can see that. I’ll give you some space- but please stay off that broken limb of yours?”

“… yeah… yeah….” You mumbled.

Ratchet. That was his name. He had a name. He wasn’t… was he a robot? He was made of metal… but he was from another planet, which is insane… are you insane? Maybe you’ve just gone crazy, but that wouldn’t explain the exuberant amount of pain you’ve felt in the last day. He’d helped you. A medic. Who didn’t know you were sentient at first. Which was also insane. Though, you didn’t think much of him either when you’d first met.

As your brain slowly started coming to terms with this bullet-to-the-face realization, you began to grip another concept: He wasn’t going to hurt you. You weren’t going to be chopped up, or squished, or kept as a pet. He wanted to go back to his friends, but he was trapped here. With you. And you were trapped with him. How ironic.

Breaths came in slower now, your heart began to give itself a rest. More questions filled your mind, some of which you already knew the answers to. You still didn’t know the one you’d had all along, at least nothing concrete. Gathering up what courage you could find lying in the dirt, you spoke up.

“What are you?” He turned back.

“I could ask the same to you.”

“Are you, like, a robot?” It came out as a strange mechanical clanging sound, but you assumed he scoffed at that.

“I am a Cybertronian, not a robot. We are an autonomous race of mechanical beings.”

“Oh. Well… I’m a human. We’re… mammals, I think.”

“Alright, well do you have a name? Designation?”

“Ah, yeah, uh, I’m Doe.”

“Nice to meet you then, Doe.”

“It’s… nice to meet you too, Ratchet.” You smiled at him. It was an expression you didn’t think you’d give again after your panic spiral earlier, yet now, unsurprisingly to you, he smiled back.

“I take it you’re feeling better now?”

“Yes, actually. I’m sorry about earlier.”

“All understandable from what I can tell. But I do need to get back to my pod so I can work on signaling my friends, and you’re in no condition to walk on your own. I don’t think you’d want to be alone out here… so would you like a ride?” He spoke to you calmly, a comforting act in an uncomfortable situation. Ratchet set down his hand in front of you once again. “This isn’t horribly offensive in your culture, is it?”

“No, no, I’m just… not used to it. We don’t have… there aren’t… nothing is as big as you, nothing living at least. I just need a second.” He nodded thoughtfully. You began to move toward his hand, which went as well as anyone would expect. Sheepishly you make a request. “Actually, I might need some help.”

“I’ve got it.” With another giant hand he pinched your midsection lightly with two fingers. You were lifted up higher than you felt necessary, but were swiftly deposited on his palm anyway. After you adjusted to the old, scarred, metal seat, the world toyed with your stomach as it dropped. The corresponding motion Ratchet made, him standing up, took you a second to recover from. Bet even before you could register the disorientation he asked you another question.

“Are you alright?” Slowly at first, then more confidently you nodded.

Your body swayed with each step. It made you nauseous. However, conversation had always been a good distraction for you, and this robot- no, Cybertronian was in no short supply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello everyone and happy new year! I figured I’d cap this one off before the year ended in my time zone. “Ignition” is not fully over, I’ll be adding to it some more (most likely fluff), but I’ve got some other plans for this AU. After all, Ratchet wasn’t the only one with an escape pod.

That being said I hope everyone has enjoyed my silly stories this December! Have a good day, night, morning, or afternoon wherever you may be!

[boredgirl2004]

Day 3: Bill and the Universe 

The page immediately turned to a blank page that quickly formed letters from my blood, There was a sketch of the book that revealed a human spin inside, an ‘X’ with an arrow pointing at it that said Lick here which, is something I won’t do. There was a paragraph under the drawing that said : 

“Congrats on your new book, The Book of Bill, Which will be your new guide of life forever! If you’re starting to have second thoughts about reading it, too bad! There’s no way to get rid of this book! Go ahead, throw it away! I DARE YOU! IT WILL FOLLOW YOU TO THE GRAVE. 

The book contains:

A real human spine! I wonder who they stole it from? 

“Paper” made from pressed, pureed human brain matter. I can invade anything with neurons, so you may already be a winner!

1,000 free paper cuts, to be awarded to 1,000 lucky readers at random! Check your fingers; you may already be a winner! 

A whole secret that you probably won’t find.

A soul. If you burn this book, it WILL scream. 

BEES!

Below the list of what the book contains, there was a verification tab that read “I am not Dipper Pines.” I don't know who that is but I might as well check it, I gently pressed my thumb on the tap, and once I pulled it off; it revealed my bloody thumbprint. I heard a distorted bing sound, I looked around the room only to see nothing, I was already losing my mind by imagining things…although nothing seemed to be real, I had to keep reminding myself of tha-

“Ah, the classic ‘I am not Dipper Pines’ verification! Nice touch, huh? It’s all part of the fun, the thrill, the… insanity? But let’s not kid ourselves here—this isn’t just your imagination. This is something far more interesting. You’re on the brink of discovering secrets that most people can only dream of! Sure, things might get a little bloody and a tad unnerving, but that’s the price of admission to the greatest show in the multiverse! Keep your cool, keep that book open, and let’s see where this wild ride takes you. Who knows, you might even enjoy it!” I looked down on the page for Bill and saw that my thumbprint was no longer there and all that remained was a checkmark in the verification box, On the next page showed the table of contents of the book, There were 5 chapters of this book, The introduction chapter that contained information of Bill. A guide to everything that Bill knows, his origin story, a chatper titled “Sixer” from what I could only assume was about Standford Pines and last, the final chapter that conveyed a plan- to what you may ask? I wasn’t sure at the time.  I can see Bill in the bottom corner of the page in those tiny vintage bowls that would contain old hard candy but there were only deer teeth? 

“Well, I hope you don’t disappoint me, Bill. I look forward to what that mind brings from these chapters, especially on the Parallel Dimensions and Urban dimensions page! Also don’t worry about my insanity, I’m already there with my crippling anxiety and many, many unresolved issues!” I said with laughter, bill laughed as well, his laughter was so loud that it began to echo along the walls, 

“Oh, disappointment? Not in my vocabulary! You’re about to dive headfirst into the twisted realms of Parallel Dimensions and Urban Dimensions—where reality bends and logic breaks! Crippling anxiety and unresolved issues? Perfect! You’re already primed for the wildest ride of your life! Embrace the insanity, relish the chaos, and let’s tear down the walls of reality together! We’ll explore the unknown, defy the impossible, and dance on the edge of madness! Trust me, you haven’t seen anything yet!” He said with gleeful madness as I looked at my bedroom door anxiously, hoping no one in my house heard that. I could only assume Bill felt this quick change in my demeanor. His laughter is cut short, his tone shifts slightly; still sounding chipper but more calculated. “Oh, worried about dear old mom and dad busting in, huh? I hear ya, my folks were like that as well but as I always say! The thrill of secrets, the fear of getting caught—is delicious, isn’t it? But don’t worry, kiddo, they can’t hear me. This is our little adventure, just between you and me. Keep those fears close; they’ll make the journey even more exhilarating! Now, let's get back to those mind-bending chapters before anyone interrupts our fun. Remember, the best discoveries are made on the edge of fear!” I was kind of listening to Bill but my full attention was glued to my door, as a way to reassure myself, I could hear Bill sigh from the page. 

“C’mon, kiddo! Don’t let the fear of Ma and Pops hold you back from greatness! This journey’s packed with mind-blowing wonders that’ll make you shine! My own family? Oh, they were a real piece of work, but we’ll save that juicy tidbit for later. For now, focus on what you truly want, and watch them beam with pride once you pull it off! I’ll be right here, your trusty guide through the chaos. Get comfortable! Eat some deer teeth—trust me, it’s a delicacy! Let’s dive into this wild ride together!” He said comfortingly as he tossed a single deer tooth from the page, causing it to pass through the brain matter page and into my hand. I smiled politely and gently placed the tooth on the side of the book. “Thanks but I’m not a teeth person but I appreciate the snack!” I said politely as Bill's eye turned into a mouth and chomped on the tooth he held in his hand. “How is he able to eat stuff with his eye? Is it an odd feeling?” I thought to myself as I watched him chew on his weird choice of a snack. I decided to turn the page and I saw a small biography page, “About me” it read, a picture of a beautifully sketched brain was below the words, I began to read the paragraph under it.  To me, it reminded me of a dictionary: 

“Bill,  noun 1. The most important triangle in history; your new best friend, life coach, overlord, style consultant, mentor, mental case, mastermind, and mind master.

So you wanna know about me?

Well, folks, I’m just as rascal! A mischievous fella! A funny little guy! But no matter how loudly I try to scream my intentions, everyone seems to think I’m “evil” or “a sociopath” or “ruining this funeral by playing a slide whistle everytime someone says the name of the deceased.” But I’m not a bad guy! I just operate on my own frequency.  Cosmically and morally! I’ve tried wearing I’ve tried wearing this shirt to explain.” There was an arrow that pointed at bill who, was now wearing a pink shirt that was too big on him, it read “ Umm… I’m a little Different get used to it” Different and get used to it were in two different fonts to express Bill intense and weird personality, and to top it off there was a kiss mark on the shirt. I continued to read the page

“Think of me as your friend who can never die. A bad idea and a good time. The guy pulling the strings behind the unknowable veil of perception. And I have a cute little bow tie. I’ve by many names. Network censors call me “A lawsuit waiting to happen.” Therapists call me “ A sign that the medication isn’t working.” Serial killers call me “Honestly surprisingly down to earth.” Wherever there’s a hand to shake and a deal to make, buddy, I’m there.” There was a centipede that had words on its back that read “Bill Cipher, dream demon. Screen to contact.” To me, this was very odd but then again, so far, Bill is showing himself to be a very odd person. Despite the weird bug on the page, I continued to read the page, looking at the bug to make sure it wouldn’t move on its own to scare me. 

“Look I get it-you're probably craving the rare, never-before details about my life, huh? Well, I haven’t done an interview in a billion years or so, but just you I’ll go to the only unbiased source in the entire multiverse: Me!” 

On the next page, it resembled those celebrity magazines on the latest gossip on Hollywood that you would see in Target or Walmart. Bill was the center on the picture, his hands held together while he sat at a table that had an arrangement of items for a day out for tea. The magazine was titled “The Bill Magazine” The page turned on its own to reveal two Bill Ciphers sitting on two couches across each other. Bill asked himself questions and Bill answered them like any other celebrity would. There would be personal questions, questions to rumors that are given a not-so-straightforward answer, and questions about the person's actions and how they took accountability with a video they posted on the internet. I marveled at the pictures that were taken of Bill from photographers and honestly, the one with Bill wearing pants the wrong way, cracked me up. (I didn’t feel like writing the whole thing because there are soooo many things that I’m gonna have to crack this chapter in separate parts but I can’t decide where to cut it off because I like to make my stories long. I always hated when people made fanfics and then they are cut short everytime which leaves a hangover or it isn’t ongoing anymore but I understand because life gets hella busy so might as well make mine hella long so you guys can have a huge chapter to read until the next one comes out! I apologize but I know what I must do. So If I cut off a page in the book that you liked, I am sorry!!)

As I turned to the next page, Bill was floating in the endless void of space, images of his “eyes” were all over the book that seemed to be pictures that were taken in real life. His presence seemed to be everywhere whether it would be his triangular shape or his eyes. 

“I SEE ALL” 

He said creepily. 

“It’s time to tell you about my unholy powers! Like a potato grew too close to Chernobyl, I’ve got eyes everywhere. Any symbol of me that you draw, scratch, spray-paint, or burn into the human world creates a direct peephole from my reality to yours! The more I see, the more my power grows! The more my power grows, the more fun we can have when you and I finally meet! Wanna help Put me somewhere no one would ever expect! (Just keep me out of the shower, you freak!!)” I cringed at whoever could do something like that but people are people. They’ll do something like that cause you know, cringy crushes or as Ford put the other group of people “EDGY”. I turned the page once more and read Bill's powers which had ranged from Mind reading, possession, ciphervoyance, charisma, pyrokinesis, and…Looking amazing in formal wear? Also, Geometric perfection? I looked at the two of Bill's powers with confusion, I get charisma because I mean, it takes a lot to be smooth when most people are anxious and overthink like myself but everyone falls for it because charisma is a person's weakness. Speaking of weaknesses. I wonder what weaknesses Bill has. I read the other page or well tried to before Bill just lifted the page and spoke out in anger, his appearance taking a glowing red hue. “HOLD UP!! You really thought I was gonna give you step-by-step instructions to taking me down?” Here we were getting along, and you try to stab me in the back! You know what-because you tried to peek at this- I’M CANCELING THE BOOK! That's right, you drove me to this! From this point on, you’re reading The Great Gatsby, instead. BOOK OF BILL OVER!!!” Before I could react the page turned to a portion of The Great Gatsby. I sighed and spoke softly. “Bill, how I could I have stabbed you in the back when you had your weaknesses in the about you chapter of this book? After all, you made this book.” I get no response. Only for the page to be turned again. I roll my eyes at how petty he was trying to be, “Okay you sassy Dorito, be that salty. I would rather read The Great Gatsby and how it explains metaphors that corresponded with the world during that time!” I read the pages of The Great Gatsby until Bill burst through the last page, white out in his hand that he used to cover the end of the page to write what he wanted to say. “ OKAY OKAY ENOUGH!”  I crossed my arms as he yelled his red hue remaining, my face was unfazed by his little outburst. “Yeesh, I get it, the billboard is a metaphor, the American Dream is bittersweet, yak, yak, yak! Look, I might have been a little hasty. Not even a meat pile like you deserves to experience “required reading.” I guess maybe I’m a little touchy about my weaknesses ever since…It’s not important, Let’s just say that none of the life-forms who have tried to figure out what my “weaknesses are” have lived long enough to compare notes.” I looked at him with a cold expression until it quickly faded. “Look I understand why you are upset but again, how was I supposed to know you’re sensitive about something like this? I know I have to get to know you and I appreciate that you are telling me things about yourself that no one will ever hear and see but me but please be if not fully but somewhat aware of your sensitivities.” Bill's yellow hue returned to his triangular form, he looked at me with a bit of respect and arrogance. Once he spoke, his voice was a mixture of a sardonic edge with an undertone of begrudging respect from my words. 

“Oh, so you’re playing the understanding card, huh? I see you’re trying to navigate my labyrinth of quirks and sensitivities. Well, points for effort! Sure, I’ve got my share of touchy spots, but that’s part of the fun, isn’t it? A little sensitivity here, a little chaos there—it’s all part of the game. Just remember, in this world of mine, the unexpected is the norm. So buckle up and let’s keep this wild ride rolling. The more you get to know me, the crazier the adventure will be!” I sighed picked up the book and walked to my bed, I sat on my bed. My pillow was against my back, the book was now on my lap. “It’s less of understanding but it's more of letting you know that if you know good and well that I’m gonna get to know you, I’m also going to see the more sensitive parts of you that make you vulnerable If you can’t handle sharing certain information then maybe wait until you are ready to let me in on that personal level, until then, if you don’t like it, don't give me that sass for your actions” I said politely as I continued to stare at him. 

He crackles mockingly and playfully speaks as a way to challenge my words. “Oh, so you’re laying down the law, huh? Fair enough, I get it—boundaries and all that jazz. But hey, this whole thing is a dance, and I didn’t think you’d be afraid of stepping on a few toes. If you’re gonna wade into my personal chaos, you’d better be ready for the mess that comes with it! I’ll dial back the sass if you promise to keep your curiosity sharp and your sense of adventure sharper. Deal?” I shake my head at Bill's response;��

“Well, I mean, it's common sense and I’m placing a boundary because it seemed like you don’t like bringing it up so I might as well politely remind you that you don’t have to if you don’t want to speak about them. Take it as you will I don’t care unless you do care that I’m putting a boundary for your sake.”  I say nonchalantly, showing my true intentions and speaking whatever words pop out of my brain but that's just how my mind works. I do not think things over but I say what comes into my mind because it's how I feel or see things. It’s just my honesty and it has gotten me in trouble a few times. Bill’s voice takes on a slightly defensive but playful tone. “Oh, boundaries and common sense—what a combo! I get it, you’re playing it safe and looking out for me. How very considerate! I’ll keep that in mind, no need to twist my eye into a pretzel over it. If it makes things smoother and keeps the fun rolling, who am I to complain? Boundaries, schmountaries—just don’t let it cramp your style too much. After all, a little chaos is what makes this adventure truly wild!”

I gave a witty response back to Bill “Well, if we must go through chaos then I might as well be respectful, no matter how crazy this book and its author is.” Bill only laughed and wiped the tear from his eye “Sure, Whatever ya say kiddo but I do have to say, I’m starting to like ya!” he said with amusement. 

As I turned the page, it revealed another letter from Stanford Pines. 

“STANDFORD PINES HERE 

If you’ve reached this page, then you ignored my instructions and have begun to read The Book of  Bill. You can’t hear the long disappointed sigh I’m making right now, but I assure you it's devastating. Yes, I’m judging you-you’re making a terrible mistake! I don’t know what ridiculous things Bill is telling you right now, but I assure you none of it is true, useful, or in good taste. I took a glimpse at the book myself, and it was mostly extremely complex and riddles- he’s trying to bait me into solving them because he knows my curiosity is my Achilles’ heel. And he’s counting on yours being the same! If you’re the type is ignore reason even when it’s staring you in the face, then I’m sure the last thing you want is to be scolded by some old man, wagging one of his 6 fingers at you. Chances are, you’re at some desperate point in life. Perhaps you have lost something dear to you, or you’re in the throes of some all-consuming monomaniacal ambition. Or perhaps you just are attracted to things that haunt you.  As a cipherholic myself, I want you to know there is another way. Close this book right now.  Go on with your life. Maybe take up an exciting hobby like cataloging the wing patterns of various types of various types of rare tree-bark-dwelling moths.  I’ve pinned one of gravity falls, “Goth Moths” here. You’d probably be into that sort of thing. Or you can keep turning the pages to see what absurd thing he’s distracting you with next. What's going to be-a tantalizing glimpse of your future, perhaps? How to speak to trees? Something obviously impossible, like how to make a nuclear bomb out of ducklings? It’s not worth it. Trust me. YOU HAVE TO TRUST ME.” I take in his warnings but I can’t help but not really appreciate Ford's avoidance of confrontation. I’m not doubting his knowledge because he seems protective to whoever gets their hands on this book (despite being a complete stranger) but what if the only way to destroy the book was to find it on the inside rather than leaving it closed because what if the book tries to find another victim? How can we stop them when there will always be that one person who’d end up falling for it and letting him out? If Ford truly is trying to avoid Bill coming back, then I might as well find a way and if I don’t I’m gonna make sure this book stays with me until I bring it to the right person and the only person I could ever bring it do was Standford Pines. I looked at the moth that was pined on the page, it was pretty to me, I could see why they call it the “Goth Moth” I’m sure all the goth kids love this moth and would want to keep it as a beautiful pet of the night, the face on the wings remind me of that Halloween and Christmas movie I watched as a kid. 

I turn the page, keeping Standford's warnings at the back of my head. I saw Bill looking into a keyhole of a large door that said atop the frame “The Secrets of the Universe”. On the right of the page. I hear Bill speak “Oh, hello there. You just caught me peeking at all the secrets of the universe! The meaning of life, what everyone’s saying about you behind your back, how to make s functioning atomic bomb out of ducklings, blah blah blah blah, boring stuff like that and my entire journey through history. You wouldn’t be interested! Hmm? What’s that? Okay, I can tell you by how comically wide your eyes are getting that you really wanna know what’s behind this door! Look…normally I only share my unholy knowledge with close personal henchmen…but you seem like the type of human who can keep infinite secrets. All right. I’ll consider letting you take a peek…IF YOU CAN PASS MY TEST. I need to know your mind is powerful enough to handle my deep, dark secrets without your brain melting out your ears and staining your shirt. Lucky for you I keep one of these brain-power tests with me at all times in case I come upon a potential new V̶i̶c̶t̶i̶m̶  best friend!” I was concerned about how he said the victim and quickly changed the word to best friend. I don’t know how badly I’m screwed but hey, I wanted to open the book with hope that I could destroy it and I accept that and my fate from how this all goes.  I hear Bill's cheery voice,  “Get that pencil sharpened buddy!-it’s time to see what you’re made of! (Aside from bile and dead skin flakes.)” He said as he, I guess smiled at me and then turned his attention back to the door and muttered to himself, “Oh-oh-OH! No kidding? Wow, they should NOT have published that…” 

As I grabbed a pencil off my nightstand and turned the page, the test was confusing and seemed impossible to me, it was filled with images, puzzles, scenarios, and riddles that made little to no sense. I sat there heavily confused, I didn’t know how to answer them, even if I tried; so to make it easier on my brain because I began to have a headache from reading and trying to figure it out; I turned the pages until I got to the answer key page. There were two answers “You Failed” and “You passed”  in all caps on the page. At first, I thought I had failed by not answering the questions but to my surprise, I didn’t fail. I looked at the page my brows furrowed with confusion. After that weirdly long and confusing test; not answering the question was the answer to this overly complicated test? I saw a picture of two figures, one was familiar and the other wasn’t. It was a drawing of Standford next to a little boy with the same lost expression. Was this boy his grandson? Nephew? I wasn’t too sure but you can see it from a mile away that they were related. Although the comment about them was distasteful to me. “Pictured guys who like homework. Not pictured girlfriends.” I mean I understand why no one likes homework but its there to make sure we understand the things we have learned and we continue to use this useful knowledge into our adulthood. (I wasn’t very good in school but it's still good to know things even when you know damn well you won’t use a majority of the things you learned but it's still necessary.) Bill appeared as a clay figure on the right of the page that had a cuckoo clock with other clay figures of himself. 

Bill’s laughter crackles and echos throughout my room. “Well color me impressed, dollface! You’re not as dumb as I thought you were. Not many can navigate the twisted paths I lay out, but you? You’ve got that special spark. You’ve proven you’re not just some ordinary mind; you’ve got the guts, the brains, and just the right amount of crazy to keep up with me! Now that you’ve earned your place, the real fun begins. Get ready, because from here on out, things are only going to get weirder, wilder, and a whole lot more dangerous! Welcome to the next level, kid!” He said as he pulled on the straps of his lederhosen with an impressed look in his eye as he stared at me. 

“Before we continue Bill, I have something to ask you about the test,” I said with a hint of curiosity. Bill propped his foot on a log as he put his hands on his….uh. I guess I’m gonna say his triangular form since he has no hips- and spoke in playful suspicion, he gives an intrigued stare. “Oh? A question, you say? Curiosity is a dangerous thing, but I like where this is going. What’s on your mind, kid? Ask away—but be careful, the answers might just be more than you bargained for!”

“Was the point of the test supposed to be that how to understand your knowledge of everything is that the universe is a weird, chaotic place that may seem complicated but it is as the test? It’s a thing that will confuse someone but you just have to turn a page and see that no matter whether you answer, there isn’t a correct answer at all, it's just all complicated and choatic either way?” I asked, my voice laced with confusion

Bill burst into laughter of amusement and approval, his voice practically oozing with his twisted satisfaction, “Bingo! You’ve hit the nail right on the head! The universe is a swirling mess of chaos and contradictions, and trying to make sense of it is like trying to solve a puzzle with no pieces! The test wasn’t about finding the ‘right’ answer—it was about embracing the madness, realizing that there isn’t a neat little solution waiting for you. The universe is weird, unpredictable, and gloriously chaotic, just like me! And the sooner you accept that, the more fun you’ll have playing the game. So, what do you say? Ready to dive deeper into the madness?”

Now…this was my first mistake, despite the previous warnings I had reminded myself from Ford's letters, I fell into Bill's trap and I can say this with genuine honesty; I wanted to know how Bill viewed everything. From life to death, and I even wanted to know his life, what made him the being he was-is? I felt genuine curiosity because if there was no right answer and we have to just accept the universe as it is then maybe the universe itself accepts you as you are, People's views on anything and everything is chaotic, confusing, and different just like how the universe is; yet we still continuously find answers when there isn’t one and it doesn’t matter if there was one, just be happy with whatever you got and accept that the universe is weird, and as Bill put it, “a whirling mess of chaos.” I felt like my overly complicated question that people, and even my own family would raise an eyebrow to was finally answered by someone who could answer it. I didn’t feel ashamed to ask these weird questions. I felt happy that my question was answered. 

“Heck yeah, I am!! I wanna see all the weird views and knowledge you have on anything and EVERYTHING! Even about yourself!!” I say happily as I give Bill a genuine smile. Bill's eyes widened with delight, his voice laced with a manic excitement as he spoke, “Now that’s the spirit! I knew you had it in you! You’re diving headfirst into the unknown, eager to unravel every twisted secret, every bizarre truth! And trust me, kid, I’ve got plenty to share—about the universe, reality, and even a little about yours truly! You’re in for a wild ride, and I couldn’t ask for a better partner in chaos! So, buckle up, keep that smile wide, and let’s tear through the fabric of reality together! There’s no turning back now!” I turn the page to reveal the title of this new chapter. 

(I will update this once I am fully done with the chapter since this will go over a lot of pages in the book! So, I am taking shortcuts and narrowing some making the important ones longer and giving more Bill interactions. Also, I changed the titles to days so I can make it really seem like it's a journal or crazy post from an insane person because it's not real and this writing is just for fun.)

[head-post]

Violent anti-Muslim crowd clashed with UK police in Southport after young girls killed

A large crowd of anti-Muslim protesters clashed with police in the northern English town of Southport, where three girls were stabbed to death and five other children were seriously injured in an attack at a Taylor Swift-themed event a day earlier.

A horrific stabbing incident in Southport on Monday shocked the British people. However, police claimed it was not terrorism-related and that the suspect was born in the UK.

Nevertheless, national-oriented groups fuelled rumours that the suspected teenager was linked to Islam, and police reported that Tuesday’s violence erupted when several hundred people began throwing objects at the mosque. Police has linked the crowd to the English Defence League, a group that sometimes stages violent demonstrations against Islam.

Police cars were damaged and set on fire, officers were attacked with bricks and large rubbish containers. Away from the violence, hundreds of people gathered for an emotional vigil to pay tribute to those killed in the attack by laying flowers and toys. Earlier, Prime Minister Keir Starmer also made a visit to the town to lay flowers.

“The people of Southport are reeling after the horror inflicted on them yesterday. They deserve our support and our respect. Those who have hijacked the vigil for the victims with violence and thuggery have insulted the community as it grieves. They will feel the full force of the law.”

However, after the visit, disgruntled residents approached him with insults and condemnations after which he was forced to leave the town.

Stabbing details

A 17-year-old is currently in custody on suspicion of murder and attempted murder following a bloody rampage at a “Taylor Swift yoga and dance workshop,” a summer holiday for children aged 6 to 11. Besides the three deaths, eight children were stabbed.

Five of them and two adults who were trying to protect them remain in critical condition. Assistant Chief Constable Alex Goss stated:

There has been much speculation and hypothesis around the status of a 17-year-old male who is currently in police custody and some individuals are using this to bring violence and disorder to our streets. We have already said that the person arrested was born in the UK and speculation helps nobody at this time.

The Liverpool Region Mosque Network said a minority of people had tried to use the Southport stabbing to spread hate.

“This evening we have seen distressing scenes outside Southport Mosque with angry protesters gathering outside. This is causing further fear and anxiety within our communities.”

King Charles and his family expressed their horror. US singer Swift also wrote on Instagram that she was “just completely in shock.”

These were just little kids at a dance class. I am at a complete loss for how to ever convey my sympathies to these families.

Read more HERE

[quasarwake]

Caught on a Wing

Also readable on Ao3! Comment if you like it .)

Jay is a 20+ year old man with little love in his family life and few ambitions outside of his writing. What happens when he's kidnapped by a giant alien jet?

2400+ words, Starscream/Original Human oc No set universe/lean on IDW and Armada vibes, if he sounds like Prime Starscream it's only because that's the iteration I saw most recently

The unease was getting to him as he walked about the warship- and Jay had to acknowledge that he was lost.

It was so much like how he'd imagined that liminal space to be- was it a coping mechanism to liken the ship to the Backrooms? There was something about the quiet halls and high walls that clawed at Jay's chest, no hum from engines, no skittering of pests like rodents or insects, lighting dim and cool in colour, a space made for beings so much taller than he. It all felt so /empty, so thunderously loud in its silence, his footsteps sounding like intermittent rain drops on metal.

He gripped himself, his breath coming out in a cloudy puff as he shivered in the cool air.

He was the only organic being on this ship and every cell in his body screamed at the knowledge of it.

He opened his mouth- to what, call out? He hadn't seen a 'con in the ship in over two hours.

And at last, the dread started to set in.

"Hello...?"

Hello? Hello? His voice echoing softly down the hall, then swallowed up by the space itself.

Then nothing, again.

Jay shivered, tugging his coat tightly around him.

And the dread began to creep in, dully cold fingers wrapping slowly around his rib-cage.

He had to turn around, right? Maybe he could retrace his steps- but every bit of hallway looked the /same to him, no clear markers and no way to navigate back.

...would anyone even come looking for him?

It was only so recently that he had been captured by the Decepticon known as Starscream- hard to keep track of in days and with insomnia exacerbated by barely-handled anxiety attacks. He figured it was at least three days, with how... grubby, he was starting to feel.

The giant robot hadn't seemed to notice, but really, Jay hadn't been able to gauge anything from him- the only time he'd gotten to see him was the brief encounter where he'd been given a series of toiletries, convenience store food and... blessedly, several packs of bottled water.

Jay licked his lips. Water would be nice about now. Why had he gone walking without any? Why was he being kept on this alien ship? He'd been told barebones information, and given just enough supplies to not feel entirely disgusting as a captive. Starscream had been called away before he could learn more. He hadn't seen Starscream since, about... two days ago, now.

He felt his stomach clench, and thought of home. Would he even be in a better position, back there? He had been jobless, nearly homeless but for the... generosity, of his parents. His parents, that mocked, harassed him for rent he couldn't give, that bruised him and threatened him with the streets with any disagreement to his name, his identity, his mental health-

He didn't feel like an adult back home. He didn't feel like a person at home. And he doubted he would've been able to grab a proper meal there, either.

At least he hadn't been hurt. Yet.

Deep in the doom spiral, Jay didn't hear anything around him change until he spoke.

"What are you doing so close to the medbay, human?"

That rasp- he hadn't heard it in days, but it still felt like a claw dragging down his spine. Starscream, standing at what, four times his height? Looming over him in his reds and blues and greys. Jay could feel that plunge of anxiety as that giant hand reached down, backed into the wall to keep away from that reach-

And to his surprise, the creature backed off, head tilting in an oh-so /human expression of confusion.

"Well?" It demanded, though not loudly. Starscream seemed to understand that volume wasn't necessary for Jay's attention. Jay managed to find his words.

"...I didn't realise where I was," he managed not to stammer and felt impressed with himself. "I was actually trying to go back. To my uh. Spot. That is."

He didn't know what he could say around this thing- home had always been walking on eggshells, ready for a bomb to drop at a word or even a wrong motion- and he felt his hackles rise as that hand lowered again. However, it opened, palm-up, as if offering this time- and when Jay hesitated, he could again see such a human seeming expression, glowing red eyes rolling in that metal face, as if just impatient with him, not angry.

"Get on," he was hissed at softly. "I'll take you back to my quarters."

Jay swallowed. Was it really any worse than what he had dealt with back home? Climbing aboard, he sat in Starscream's hand and drew his legs in close, felt the slight rush of vertigo as he was lifted, carried off. He couldn't help but notice the literal guns mounted on his shoulders, missiles seeming to find a resting place in the armor- was it even armor?

"You can't just go wandering off on your own like that."

Was he getting scolded?

"There are bots around here that wouldn't hesitate to give you something to worry about- or worse. And I didn't invest time and energy into retrieving myself a pet only to have it killed within a few solar cycles."

Jay gritted his teeth. "PET?!" It was out before he could stop it, the shrill sound out before he clapped both hands over his mouth. Starscream stopped walking, eyes narrowing down at Jay.

"Is there something wrong with the idea of being my pet?" The tone was incredulous. "You will be cared for- this planet will fall to Decepticon rule any day now, and only so many of you will be selected for such a privilege."

A clawed hand pressed to the wall, blue metal glinting as a lit panel flashed beneath it. The wall slid open, revealing the same room Jay had managed to slip out of hours before.

He tried not to focus on how warm the hand that carefully held him was. If he unballed himself, he could probably hang his legs off the palm- if the idea of it didn't make his stomach do absolute flips. Alien invaders. It figured, really.

"And ah, what made me so... 'worthy'?" he asked. It probably wasn't the best idea. But he had to know.

"The hair is a start," came the reply, and Jay reached up to touch his brightly dyed hair. "I enjoy the colouration. I supposed it is artificial, though- I'll have to find you products to maintain it."

"I- wh- th. Thanks?"

What?

How did this alien even know?

But did it make him glad to use the colours he had.

"Is that really it though? I mean..."

He thought back to the day he had been snatched away- one of those rare moments of outside freedom, a little money scrounged up for a bus out of town, as much as that meant for him.

He had known it was only temporary, and soon he would return to the house that was not a home. For the moment, he found himself wandering the state forest, taking in the time to himself for what it was. For a long while, he wondered to himself...

What if he didn't return?

Let the forest take him, one way or another?

He had nothing, and no-one. And he was tired of feeling like that.

He was tired of feeling like nothing happened in his life, until a literal jet that wasn't a jet landed in front of him, stated its name, rank, and affiliation, and scooped him up into a canopy to withstand the horror of g-force rocking his body for the first time in his life. What a way to feel the hands of the Gods pushing and pulling at you.

It had taken some hours to recover from the ordeal of having his organs and entire body withstand that, and Jay was simply glad he hadn't thrown up inside the shapeshifting robot monster.

"I'd just... expected that something like you would have a real selection process, or something. You just... grab the first human that you saw that you liked?"

Starscream's glowing eyes rolled. Uncannily human.

"Does it matter why you were chosen?" He scowled down at Jay, who was realising just how close he had been brought to his face. "You haven't raised much complaint." And now that scowl shifted into a sneer. "Nowhere to return to, is it?"

And truthfully? No. For all Jay knew this creature grabbed him because it thought he was wild in the woods. And he doubted his parents would care if their very adult son 'ran away'.

"...probably not," he mumbled. "...but you're saying... you want me here?"

Gusts of air vented from what Jay had thought was a helmet, ruffling his clothes around him. And he was set down, finding himself in a larger nest of blankets and... clothes? Than he had been given before. There were even some cushions, and... was he in shipping container? It was sitting on the corner of a table or desk, laying open with jagged edges along what would have been the top- as though it had been peeled off.

"I go through all of the trouble of finding so many human supplies for you, and you think you're not wanted here. I should be insulted."

Jay watched as wings flicked, wondering if it was a sign of annoyance, or something more...

Amused?

The way red eyes glinted was throwing him off.

Jay really hoped that smile was human-analogous.

"Our medic is looking into the other biological needs of your kind, out of a general curiosity. He will come by later to ascertain your... hygienic needs. I figured that this would be enough for now."

Jay lay dumbly in his pile, and felt a twinge of wonder when Starscream looked away, his sneer... softening, if his eyes weren't mistaken.

But there was that flash of anxiety- of the potential of this being an act.

"I plan to stock up for your food needs for the long term. So be sure to discuss with him exactly what you'll need, I don't have time to be making multiple trips."

Slowly, Jay nodded, pulling a cushion close to him and holding it.

"...okay," he managed, too tired and worn from his walk to feel defiant. And he wondered how the giant being could be so quiet, barely making noise as he stepped back to the desk. Blue metal settled on the edge, fingertips hooking like talons along the edge of Jay's container.

This time, he couldn't really read the expression on Starscream's face. It was hard with any human face.

But the way the vents around his face flushed warm air, it nearly sounded like a sigh, to Jay.

"...I thought you would be louder. More violent."

Jay curled up tightly on himself, looking away from that red-eyed stare.

"Is that what you wanted? A loud, violent pet?"

"No," the reply was fast. "But I'm not interested in having a pet that just lays about doing nothing. If that's all you plan to do, I can always return you..."

"No no no!"

Holy shit there was that spike in anxiety- and it wasn't really until then that Jay knew-

He couldn't go back. Whatever Hell he was currently in already seemed so much more appealing than returning home.

Could he die?

Probably. Actually it seemed fairly likely.

But what about back home?

Just as likely, for genuinely less comfortable reasons.

"I've... just been tired, okay? I've never been in a jet before, and I have no idea what's going on. I can stay here, um..."

He looked around the inside of his... habitat. He'd seen pictures online of people that had made these things into genuinely comfortable resting spaces- and it was large enough to tell him that Starscream... had actually put in some work to making him... comfortable.

He wasn't being contained. He didn't have a lid or a lead.

"...you said your... medic? Will talk to me later? I've got what I need for now. Though, um..."

Could he ask for anything? Was that allowed?

How could he phrase it, then?

"...if you want me to do stuff, are you able to get me things to do?"

Annoyance. That was a clear flash on the face of the alien being- and Jay felt his stomach plunge into anxiety, cold like an icy bullet to his gut.

"I'll think about it," he stated cooly, before lifting his hand, straightening himself upright. "But know I'm not interested in a boring pet. So consider it..."

A moment, as if he was struggling with his words.

"...considered."

And in that moment, Jay realised-

There was a charlatan in there.

A liar.

But not in a way he felt he couldn't... trust. It was a familiar kind of bluster that he himself at parties had affected-

Having to act on a level of heightened self-importance that made one the center of attention. On a hope that their words held more power than any physical might.

And he was hearing that tone, that energy and that vibe, from a giant alien robot monster.

Huh.

For now, this was something he knew he could work with. Words as weapons- they were his tools.

At last, he felt he found his footing, he found himself feeling strangely less alone.

And he smile, pouring as much warmth as he could physically could into it.

"Consider your consideration considerably considered~"

And now was the moment- the expectation of a strike, his wordplay never so appreciated at home.

Instead, Starscream snickered, a flush of warmth flooding Jay's body at the sadistic sound of it.

At the way he felt giddy, rather than fearful of it.

"Oooh, so you can be entertaining." He rapped his knuckles on the desk, and Jay could feel the quake of it through his container. He started moving away, making his way back towards the door. "Save that for me for later, yes? I'll be looking forward to some fun with you eventually."

Fun??

He didn't want to wonder about that, but if Jay could play court jester and have that be enough...

He'd had to do worse for less, really.

"...I'll, uh, try."

Starscream looked over his shoulder at him, that smirk settling itself back onto his features- before becoming stern.

"...don't leave without me again," he warned, his rasping voice ending with a growl.

Jay didn't want to wonder at the warmth that that tone had sent through him. He only nodded, and watched as Starscream left him again, the original silence feeling lonelier than before.

But with the faint hope of future warmth.

[noname-nonartist]

(If you're not comfortable with ask games, feel free to ignore)

When you get this, list 5 songs you like to listen to, publish them, and send this ask to the last 10 people in your notifs!

@not-so-empty-sekai (side blog)

your art is so good btw :3

Oh? A song ask-chain game? Sounds fun! :Dc

Hmmm. Okay, how about this!

I’ll list 5 songs that are pjsk songs (since I’ve been listening to them a lotttt), and 5 other songs that aren’t pjsk related, to mix things up a bit! >:3c

Okay? Nice~

Let’s gooooo!!! (List under the cut)

Side Note: Thank you for saying my art is good! It made my day! >///<

PJSK Songs that I listen to~

1. Bake no Hana

Of course this song is gonna make it into the list! Because ever since Mizu5, I’ve just been listening to this every dayyyy :’)

Mizu5 wreaked me emotional for reals, for realssss ;v;

2. Ultra C

I’m so proud of vbs for finally surpassing RAD Weekend! It was such a good event, and an even banger song! The moment where Miku gave one last encouragement to Kohane? So good. Ahhh! Of course the scene afterwards where vbs when to visit Nagi’s grave! Ahhhhh! It punched me in the guts! In a good way tho! TvT

3. Watashi Wa Ame

I know it’s a joke that all of Ena’s events are about her struggles as an artist, and while it’s true. I do think they mix it up enough and show Ena’s character growth throughout it super well. And this event is the prime example of that.

Her getting insight of what her father struggled with as an artist. Ena learning how she was the main inspiration for his father’s possible last painting. How he sees her as a hope of light in his darkest times. How he genuinely loves and wants to protect her (albeit not in the greatest way as we all know). And how she grew so much in both understanding and confidence to understand her father’s intentions.

It’s such a really nice event for me that also got me emotional. Also the song is so gooddddd~ *v*

4. Regulus

Yepppp, a Leo/Need song! It’s such a banger!

While I’m not that well versed on Leo/Need compared to N25 and VBS, I did read Honami’s stories (look, my adhd brain be hopping around the storyline like crazy whenever i gets attached to a character lol)

And i just gotta say, I’m so proud of Honami! She has definitely grown so much since the main story.

Her initially lacking the confidence to make a decision due to her anxiety, fears, and people pleasing tendencies. (that caused her to initially be distant from her closest friends, and caused her to be depressed during that time)

To now. Being confident to speak truthfully about her feelings and standing up for herself and Leo/Need (seen in the Little Braver event). And now she’s an offical leader of Leo/Need! Ahhhh! So proud of her! >v<

5. Watashi Wa, Watashitachi Wa

Bang! A More More Jump song to finish off this list! >:Dc

And once again, I’m not as well versed in the MMJ, but my adhd brain did get attached to Shizuku, hence me reading the her event stories (i still have read Shizu4 yet tho… •3•;)

But anyway! I absolutely love this song and the event that is associated with it. It’s such a good way for Shizuku to face her past and show how much she has grown and is willing to be more proactive to be the best idol she can be, as herself.

It also gave more insight what happened during her time in Cheerful*Days and how the rift between the members began. Fleshing out the members and showing a more complex situation than a simple jealousy situation at first glance.

And like the song is so catchy and hopeful, a perfect song that embodies Shizuku’s determination. :3c

Oh shoot. That took longer than expected uhhhh… Rapid fire non-pjsk song list, go!

Non-PJSK Songs:

1. 雨乙女 (Ameotome)

2. Sing The Moon

3. Yubikiri Genman

4. ThoughtCrime

5. いばら (Ibara)

[bubble-popping]

day 13! almost two weeks :0 this time some follower!dream and XD content :]

He passed the pews, forever empty in humanity's foolhardy attempt to ignore their powerlessness. Dream would never understand it. Not after everything he'd witnessed. The so-called Church of Prime; nothing more than a moniker for the true deity of the server. At the podium, staring out the stained glass windows, stood Them. The One. The Everything. The Beginning and the End. DreamXD, his God.

In billowing green robes where no wind existed. An intimidating figure of double his size and height, made larger by multiple pairs of pure white wings. Topped with ever-spinning, criss-crossing, all-seeing halos.

The mere sight of Them put Dream in seventh heaven, replenished all the energy he'd just spent for the last several hours.

Before the short steps to where They stood, Dream kneeled, bowing his head. Hand over his heart, mask off. He knew XD could see through it anyway.

"My Lord, Your prophet has returned."

"Hm?" They looked back over Their shoulder, and a certain giddiness filled Dream in seeing Them manifested as a humanoid. "Ah, my Dreamer! I assume you have completed your mission?" Their voice echoed in the small church, reverberated in Dream's sternum, buzzed in his ears even after They stopped talking. Like a thousand different voices speaking at once.

Nothing could ever make Dream feel more loved than that nickname.

"Indeed, Your Voidness. L'Manberg is but a hole to the deepest layers of bedrock. Nothing shall ever exist there again."

"Oh, excellent. It seems that Blood God follower and the Angel of Death were better allies than I anticipated. My Dreamer's strategic little mind never ceases to amaze Me."

"Your praise is most appreciated, My Guardian."

"What would My little Dreamer think of adding them to Our cause?"

A cold fear washed over his body. Something wretched gripped his heart, squeezing and suffocating.

He cleared his throat, painfully aware of the heaviness of his tongue and texture of his teeth. "I don't think they'd understand."

XD hummed thoughtfully. He felt Their presence approach, though They made no sound. The hem of green robes entered his limited field of vision. "And why do you think that?"

There were so many things he could say, too many, and they all revealed the weakest parts of him. The jealousy and selfishness. The anxiety and desperation. The base passions and carnal instincts. Everything that still made him human.

"Sweet Dreamer of Mine," They continued, and Dream scolded himself for not answering when spoken to. "Come on now. Be honest with Me. What's it really about?" Dream couldn't lie even if he wanted to. XD knew everything, saw everything, heard everything. These mission reports were more a formality than a necessity.

Fingers pressed from under his chin, forcing his gaze upwards. They also wore no mask.

Their touch froze his skin, sent jolts of electricity straight to his brain in mismatched signals of fight or flight, but Their eyes kept him pinned in place. Spheres of swirling darkness dotted by countless stars pierced through his flesh to peer at his very soul.

"I..." he began. The truth spilled out before he could even think, "I can't bear the thought of someone unworthy sitting at Your feet the way I do, My Lord."

A grin split Their face in half, rows of sharp, perfect whites peeking through. "You've grown quite possessive, Dreamer. Do you wish to own Me? Do you wish to own an all-powerful, all-knowing god such as Myself?"

Dream swallowed thickly. This felt like Judgement. "I only seek to please You, Your Voidness."

They hummed and observed him for a moment longer before pulling away. A bottomless emptiness replaced where They'd touched. "A wise answer." With that, They turned, and Dream was able to take a full breath. "And what about that mercenary of Yours?"

"Punz? What about them?"

"Well, you two seem close. Would he make a good follower? Perhaps even a votary?"

Dream scoffed, shaking his head. "Not a chance. He's not religious at all."

"Neither were you before you met Me."

"That's..." The blond hesitated before sighing. "That's true."

"And don't you think I deserve more of a following? Wouldn't you want to expand Our numbers? To further Our cause?"

"Of course, My Guardian, that's all I-"

"Then it's settled. Speak with them. Bring him to the Meeting Place. He will learn to revere just as you have."

"As You wish, My Lord." Dream bowed his head once more before rising to a stand and fixing his mask back into place. He turned and left, feeling dozens of eyes watching as he went.

[southeastasianists]

On 5th July 2023, The Washington Post published ‘In Singapore, loud echoes of Beijing’s positions generate anxiety’. Written by Singaporean journalist Shibani Mahtani, it alleged that local Chinese daily Lianhe Zaobao “now routinely echoes some of Beijing’s most strident falsehoods” and “has been running regular opinion columns since 2016 from at least two [Chinese Communist Party] officials without noting their party affiliation”. 

The article argued this was a symptom of more extensive efforts by China to influence Singapore’s Chinese population. 

It sparked immediate (and anxious) reactions. Lianhe Zaobao rebutted that they take in “Chinese and Western viewpoints while preserving [their] unique stance and independence”. Lui Tuck Yew, Singapore’s Ambassador to the US, published a letter saying the article “wrongly suggests that Lianhe Zaobao […] echoes Beijing’s propaganda” and that the article was “misguided for American news outlets to expect Zaobao to resemble The Washington Post or for Singapore to follow either the US or China”. 

Prime Minister-in-waiting Lawrence Wong briefly discussed the article during his US trip, affirming that Singapore is vigilant about external influences, including “Western liberal ideals”.

“To be candid, there is no shortage of criticism about Singapore in the Western media, no shortage of commentaries and articles highlighting the shortcomings in our system and asking us to be more like Western liberal ideals,” DPM Wong clarifies.

Naturally, it was the first thing I asked her about. 

On Lianhe Zaobao

As expected of someone who interviews public figures for a living, Shibani’s relaxed manner instantly puts you at ease. Her speech—liberally peppered with “you know” and “right?”—draws you into the same wavelength. 

Learned from years of journalism, the 35-year-old balances her claims with caveats. Her neutral-sounding English is flawless, void of the full ‘R’s characterising American accents or the poshness of British accents. In her own words, she speaks like “someone very privileged to have experienced different cultures, societies, and ways of life”.

When I bring up the Lianhe Zaobao kerfuffle, her demeanour turns serious. 

“Nowhere did I advocate for Singaporean media to be like Western media,” she begins. 

“The story didn’t argue from a US-China perspective at all, honestly. It was an investigation into the discourses and the narratives around Chinese-ness.”

While acknowledging Western ideas and narratives have long been embedded in Singapore, she argues China’s resurgence makes examining Chinese influence more urgent. 

“Ethnicity has historically been very fragile in this part of the world. Most of Singapore’s population is ethnic Chinese. As [Ambassador-at-Large] Bilahari said, there’s something very different about the CCP propagating the great rejuvenation of the Chinese nation, which involves ethnic Chinese from all over the world,” she notes. “The US cannot have that same claim here.”

Probing Shibani is an exercise in probing the Singaporean identity. Born and bred in Singapore, she’s highly invested in the way things operate here.

However, the values she developed from Singapore’s environment differed from most. Where political apathy (even cynicism) prevails, Shibani champions ‘flowery’ values like free speech and transparency. Such values inform her work, birthing social media comments accusing her and her work—like her Lianhe Zaobao article—of being “Western” and a “foreign influence”.

Shibani’s interest in examining China’s influence on Singapore began upon returning home while covering the 2019 Hong Kong protests.

“People around us would be like, ‘Oh, these people are unhinged’.” She suspected these narratives parroted CCP talking points.

After asking friends and consulting academics, she learned how Chinese state narratives can be spread through various channels in Singapore: WeChat, WhatsApp, forum posts, cable TV and print media. 

Shibani focused on Lianhe Zaobao because it was quantifiable. 

Working with the Australian Strategic Policy Institute, an Australian government-linked think tank that declared receiving $1.48 million from the US State Department in 2021-22, The Washington Post could “run a scraper through” Zaobao’s articles for references to pro-China sources.

She notes another reason. 

“The way Singapore views the media is not as a check and balance but to positively aid national development and discourse. I felt that if it were true that Chinese narratives were seeping in, that would run counter to the Singapore government’s efforts to ensure that our narratives are self-defined and driven by Singapore’s interests.”

A proponent of free speech, she claims pro-China views have a place in Singapore’s media landscape. Her gripe, however, is transparency—publications need to clarify the writer’s affiliations to readers.

“You could not get away with having a US State Department official write for The Straits Times as a neutral analyst.”

A Singaporean, Born and Bred

Her conversations with fellow Singaporeans informed Shibani’s story of Chinese influence in Singapore. It’s far from the first story birthed from her connections here.

“One of the first stories I did—and it remains a story I’m very, very proud of—was writing in the Wall Street Journal about racial discrimination within Singapore’s housing ads. People can—even today—advertise ‘no Indians’ or ‘Chinese preferred’ or ‘light-skin only.'” 

It presented a disconnect from narratives she grew up hearing about Singapore’s racial harmony and the Housing Development Board’s Ethnic Integration Policy preventing ethnic enclaves. 

“I don’t know if I would have caught on to that issue if I had not been born and raised here,” she affirms.

Growing up an ethnic minority, she didn’t see her experiences and views validated. 

Without social media or alternative media back then, she could only read from The Straits Times or Business Times and what foreigners wrote about Singapore in overseas publications. There was little available discourse divorced from those lenses. Her current endeavours in journalism aim to fill that gap: To present perspectives on Singapore she wasn’t able to read growing up.

Her childhood fascination with travel and language evolved into a fixation on journalism as her political awareness developed. 

“I remember the WIRED piece that called Singapore a ‘Disneyland with the death penalty‘”, she says. Reading international coverage of Singapore spurred her to interrogate the place she calls home.

She focused on writing. She contributed to the school paper at Raffles Junior College and became Executive Editor of the student newspaper at the London School of Economics. 

“When I went to grad school [at the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism in 2010], I wanted to learn how big global news organisations operate. They are much better resourced and offered a more international career, which can be hard to carve out at somewhere like The Straits Times.” 

Yet, it felt far-fetched. 

“When I started writing for The Wall Street Journal [in 2011], it was rare for them to have non-white, non-Western journalists,” she recalls. 

Her opportunity was borne from need: WSJ’s foreign journalists on employment passes got their passes cut.

“So they said okay, instead of hiring foreigners, we should hire Singaporeans.”

Beyond the Bubble

Working in global news organisations meant Shibani was often overseas, starting with Myanmar in 2013. She volunteered for the job—a leap of faith stemming from her interest in Southeast Asia.

Adapting to Yangon, the largest city in Myanmar, was a “crazy experience”. Internet was virtually nonexistent and absurdly priced.

“SIM cards still cost US$150 before the liberalisation of the telecom sector.” She often loitered in the Traders Hotel (now Shangri-La) lobby, trying to connect to decent internet.

For correspondents, living in the country they’re covering gives a valuable taste of life there to inform their perspectives.

Contrary to places like Hong Kong or Singapore, where expatriates have the ability to somewhat detach from local life, Shibani notes that it was much harder in Yangon circa 2013.

“Living in Yangon is a bit of a bubble [for expatriates], but our issues with the internet were shared [with locals]. If it flooded, everything flooded. If the power cuts, the power cuts for everybody—not to equate; I was a privileged expat, but we lived in a pretty local neighbourhood.”

She regales tales from her travels, recalling the poppy-infested Northern areas of Myanmar, where opium is produced.  

“I remember feeling very shaken visiting these shacks, which were treatment centres for recovering addicts. Their eyes were just so hollow and their expressions so blank.”

She remembers interviewing Khin Nyunt, Myanmar’s former Chief of Intelligence—infamous for ruthlessly running the pervasive state security apparatus and cracking down on anyone opposing the regime. 

“What a difficult interview, man. Imagine you’re sitting across from someone who you essentially know is a really bad person, for lack of a better word,” she grimaces.

“And you have to smile at them and go: ‘So. About torturing and disappearing people.'”

She shudders as she recalls speaking to Aung San Suu Kyi—her toughest interviewee yet. When she tried to press Aung San Suu Kyi on the national economy and internal political party dynamics, Aung San Suu Kyi got angry and refused to talk. Shibani crumpled up internally.

Fighting for Something

Then, there was the time when she covered the Hong Kong protests in 2019.

“It was incredibly fast-moving every weekend. […] Protests were so dispersed. Journalists were in WhatsApp groups together so we could crowdsource or trade info.”

It fell into a routine. Mornings and afternoons were peaceful, while at night, there’d be pockets of radical action like vandalism or police chases. 

That soon devolved into chaos. “You didn’t know whether to expect Molotov cocktails being thrown or crackdowns from the police.” That escalation only waned after local elections in November 2019 and the advent of COVID-19.

Despite the violence, it was the tender moments that stuck with her. “We would see people helping each other and giving out food and drinks, young couples holding hands and walking through the streets. It was surreal to see those spaces you’d drive down occupied by people sitting and holding hands.”

“You see what it meant to people to be part of a collective and a community fighting for something,” she reminisces. “That stayed with me.”

Journalists aren’t immune to the heightened emotions: “It’s very hard not to be affected by seeing kids beaten up on the street or seeing your friends flee home.” 

She tries to channel these emotions into her writing, as with her recently published book, Among The Braves. Co-written with her husband, Timothy McLaughlin, the book explores the Hong Kong pro-democracy movement through the eyes of people on the ground. 

“In 2021, when they started mass arresting groups of people, our whole contact list disappeared. We identified a few people [to profile in the book], and they started going to jail, one by one. Local Hong Kong outlets we referenced, like Apple Daily or Stand News, began shutting down.” 

She stressed the urgency. “I think the power of the Chinese Communist Party to do this forced mass amnesia has been well-documented post-Tiananmen. If we didn’t do it now, we’d lose the opportunity to put down what we saw in these people’s life experiences.”

‘A Different Approach’

Today, Shibani is back in Singapore after returning home with her husband and Bean, her dog.

“It’s pretty surreal,” Shibani reflects, sipping coffee as her eyes linger on the Singapore skyline. “It feels like we’re in a corner of the world untouched by the insanity everywhere.”

“For all of Singapore’s flaws, we should feel fortunate to have a good, stable and functional government,” Shibani notes.

“In Hong Kong, all people wanted is to vote for their government,” she says. “I’m not saying that stuff like gerrymandering doesn’t exist. Singapore’s not a perfect system, but we still have that right [to vote] many people are fighting for.” 

Shibani pauses. “I sometimes wonder if it is valued as much as it should be.”

Despite being well-travelled, she doesn’t consider herself an international citizen.

“Being Singaporean is at the heart of everything I do, everything I believe in, and everything I am.”

From Shibani’s perspective, many of her contrasting beliefs are because of her Singaporean experiences “formed in opposition to narratives [she] heard since young”.

Not all her beliefs are oppositional. She attributes positive experiences in Singapore to her strong belief in multiculturalism, the virtues of an open immigration system (relative to other countries), and diversity within our neighbourhoods.

Shibani reflects Singapore’s difficulties balancing a desire to be an open, cosmopolitan city while nurturing a nationalism that, in its quest to unite, may exclude Singaporeans who stray from conventions of how a Singaporean should think or act.

Being critical of these perspectives is one thing. Shunning these viewpoints altogether strangles Singapore’s social diversity and vibrancy of thought. 

Those differences in values influence her views on Singaporean journalism. “I don’t want to criticise traditional SPH media, honestly. They inform society on things only they will cover right, like day-to-day concerns of Singaporeans.”

“Perhaps the only point I would make is, generally, I believe journalism should be free of government interference, red lines, and tacit control, but that’s not the way Singapore’s government sees its media; they see it as having a civic role. And that’s just a different approach.”

A Journalist’s Role

In comparison, she recalls, “When I was in the US [between 2016 and 2019], I was highly critical of the Chicago local government, the Chicago Mayor, and the Illinois state government. That’s our role as journalists: To be a check on government.”

This principle also holds in Hong Kong. She rejects claims that her writing, often critical of the Hong Kong government, represents Western influence in a larger East vs West ideological conflict. After all, she scrutinises Western governments using similar criteria, too.

“[Journalists] mean it when we say we want all perspectives,” she says, citing her own extensive interviews with people within the Hong Kong government.

That includes police officers on the ground. “We worked with a local journalist who—this is a true story, and RICE Media fodder—Tinder matched with two cops. When the movement started, she was like, ‘Oh my god. Let me reach out to my Tinder contacts.'”

However, those core disagreements with journalism’s role in Singapore are also why she’s so excited about the burgeoning independent media scene. “I feel like this landscape now is so much more diverse and interesting than I could have imagined in its history.”

After her book tour, she intends to add to that diversity by writing for The Washington Post on topics like trafficking or refugees in Southeast Asia. I ask what sustains her dedication to pure journalism. 

“So cheesy, but I’m just interested in hearing people’s stories,” she laughs.

“We can’t escape the confines in which we grew up—the schools we go to, the countries we live in. All that means we interact with only specific subsets or groups of people. The amazing thing about journalism is that all those boundaries don’t exist.”

She’s talked with so many people: Hardcore gun-toting Republicans in Southern Illinois, Rohingya refugees on the Thai border, and millionaires relinquishing everything to support the Hong Kong pro-democracy movement.

“It’s like therapy, I think, for them,” she ponders.

“It’s a testament to how so many people have stories to tell—it’s just about drawing it out.”