#I didn’t proofread this at all

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

I’m not sure if I’m in love with this. But it’s been done. The moment that Cometeater said “I lived for them” I had this pop into my head.

Dropmix is great at comforting people usually. He just tells them what they want to hear. But this time if he fails then Jeopardy ends up getting hurt so the pressure is on. So he’s gotta actually like…. Open up. At least as much as he can.

He doesn’t really but he feels like he does. So good for him I guess.

My contribution to the Custody AU.

—

Dropmix closed the door of the side room as gently as he could behind him. Jeopardy had been a mess after he had found Cometeater on the roof, programs only making the young medic’s emotional response stronger. Somehow Jeopardy had managed to keep it mostly under control while he soothed Comet. Though the moment that the medic had stepped out of the room with the Pretender he had fallen apart.

It took longer than usual for Dropmix to get him to settle—it had been awhile since the younger mech had a panic attack that severe. But Dropmix knew to be patient, carefully guiding the panicking medic through exercises to ground himself and try to steady his breathing. When Jeopardy finally did calm down he quickly revealed to Dropmix what had happened, clearly distressed and voice breaking. The dark gladiator did everything he could to comfort the other, holding him until Jeopardy eventually slipped into sleep.

But the entire experience had brought several things to his attention. The first being that he needed to keep a closer eye on both Jeopardy and Cometeater. The second was that the young medic cared deeply for his friend and was struggling to try and help him. The third was that if Comet did something like this again it very possibly might destroy Jeopardy.

So it was up to Dropmix to make sure something like that didn’t happen again.

The large mech looked around the dark room, the only light provided by the faintly glowing emergency lights that the medical bay had installed. Cometeater was curled on the berth, tucked away in a thick blue blanket, swaddled in it like it could hide him from the outside world. Dropmix narrowed his eye, straining against the darkness to try and figure out what position Comet was in. He didn’t move any further into the room, standing awkwardly just in front of the doorway.

Eventually, the mass of blanket shifted as two large eyes looked up at him, wide and watery. They flashed, the low lighting catching just the right angle to make the wide pupils glow a sickly yellow color for a brief moment. Cometeater blinked once before he pushed himself into the corner of the bed, away from Dropmix, a low whine escaping him.

Dropmix sighed, rolling his shoulders back, bracing himself. He wasn’t here to intimidate. He wasn’t here to threaten. He wasn’t even here because he particularly cared—at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

He was here because Jeopardy was in over his head.

The gladiator had dealt with people like this before and he had always been smart enough not to get attached to patients like this, but Jeopardy didn’t know any better, he couldn’t help himself. That much was clear with Nova.

He looked to the other side of the room, expression carefully neutral. Dropmix slowly walked to one of the chairs that sat across from the bed, he could feel Cometeater’s gaze burning into him as he moved. The gladiator didn’t say anything, he didn’t react at all, only plopping himself down into the chair with an ungraceful grunt. He took a moment to adjust his posture, trying to keep his armor from pressing against his joints uncomfortably before he looked back over at the swaddled form on the bed.

The silence sat thickly in the room as the gladiator fought with himself to keep the thoughts of how pathetic the display was at bay. That was the last thing that Cometeater needed at the moment. If Jeopardy was right, Dropmix would have to tread carefully. However, with the way that the small green mech was looking at him, Dropmix was realizing that it would be difficult to reach the other without poking at things he shouldn’t.

Unless, of course, Dropmix did the one thing he would rather eat his own armor than do willingly. But he wasn’t doing this for himself, he was doing it for Jeopardy. If this was what it took to make sure that Comet didn’t hurt Jeopardy like that again then Dropmix could suck it up. It was a small price to pay. The gladiator shifted in the chair as he took another moment to collect his thoughts.

“Jeopardy told me what you tried to do,” He began, tone gentle as if he was talking to one of his other patients. He forced his posture to remain relaxed as he observed Comet for any reaction, his voice shifting to something just a bit more harsh and blunt, “That was fragging stupid, you know that, right?”

Cometeater blinked, eyes widening a little as he heard Dropmix’s voice shift, eyes darting to the floor for a moment. He stayed quiet for just a moment, burrowing into the blanket a bit more under the intense stare of Dropmix. When the pretender finally replied it was muffled by the cloth, “I guess.”

Dropmix narrowed his eye, resisting the urge to scoff, “Then why did you do it?”

The green mech ducked lower, still not looking up at Dropmix. He shuddered and shook his head, tone thick with emotion as he did his best to growl at the other, “Why are you here Dropmix?”

The gladiator shook his head, crossing his arms and leaning back into the chair. He frowned, “I’m here because you tried to kill yourself, Cometeater.”

“So, what?” The small mech spat hotly, though his voice slightly waivered, emotions still brewing. He glared at the gladiator, eyes wetter than normal, “You here to antagonize me? You here because you have to so you can keep pretending to be something you're not?”

Dropmix took a deep breath, his expression softening slightly, his arms remaining crossed over his chest. He shook his head dismissively. He knew what this was, the hostility was a sad attempt to defend himself, to try and get Dropmix to leave. Unfortunately, he hadn’t quite mastered it in the same way Nova had, the gladiator could see through the cracks. “No, I’m not here because I have to be, I’m here because I want to talk to you.”

Comet looked away, shifting to hide his face in the covers, “Go away, I don’t want to talk.”

“I never said you had to talk,” Dropmix was careful to keep his tone gentle and soft. He needed to treat this like he would any other grieving patient—no, what Dropmix was doing was not something he did with others. He didn’t try to connect with people, not when it involved exposing his own old wounds and failures, “I just need you to listen, think you can do that?”

The swaddled mass on the bed didn’t move or reply, Dropmix didn’t expect him to. He sighed, looking at the ground as he collected his thoughts, his spark hammering in his chest. The gladiator was never good at this, he told people what he wanted them to hear, usually it was what they needed as well. But Cometeater needed more than that and Dropmix knew that the kid was in no place to use this against him.

He also knew how to keep a secret.

“I’m not going to tell you that everything’s going to get better. I’m not going to sugar coat or lie to you to make you feel better,” Dropmix began, voice gentle though it carried a sharp edge to it, leaving no room for argument, “Things are going to hurt and be uncomfortable. Things like this are messy. You’re probably going to hate every second of it, wish that the universe would spare you from the miserable existence you’ve found yourself in. And you have every right to think that, to feel that way.”

Cometeater stiffened a bit, curling away from the other more. The gladiator shifted, going silent for a moment as he contemplated what to say, “You lost the two most important people in your life. That’s not something that you just move on from and get over.”

Dropmix spoke from his own experience. He had found himself in a position just like Comet’s when he had lost Theremin. When his anger had finally run dry and his thirst for vengeance was finally quenched he had been just as lost. Just as alone. But Comet had something that he didn’t have when he was finally forced to face reality.

He had Jeopardy.

“But that doesn’t mean you just give up and take the easy way out,” his voice grew harsher, brow furrowing, unwanted emotions surfacing and making him bitter. He shouldn't be doing this. “I’m not going to argue that they wouldn’t have wanted you to do it, that you need to keep going for them, or that otherwise their sacrifice would have been for nothing.”

The large mech knew how easy it was to dismiss arguments like that. He had done so himself, plenty of times. And they never helped it hurt any less, nothing did really. He just learned to live with it, and Comet would in time. He just needed to live long enough to get there. Just like Dropmix had to.

He shook his head, gaze still locked onto the floor. His tone became more somber, “I’m not going to argue with you about them because it's not my place.”

The dark mech sighed and adjusted himself in his seat, “But I am going to tell you that if you kill yourself then their memory is going to die with you.”

Cometeater flinched at that.

Dropmix continued, just as blunt, “Their lives will be worth nothing more than a number. They will become just as unimportant as the millions of others lost in the war.”

Finally, Dropmix looked up at Cometeacter, who was still keeping his face tucked away and hidden. The gladiator didn’t care, he had shared what he wanted to. It was what had kept him going before he found Jeopardy, and maybe it would be enough to keep Comet going as well. He stood, straightening himself as he buried the emotions that risked spilling over the air of professionalism he kept himself contained in.

“Then they would really be gone, Cometeater. It would be like they never existed at all.”

The large mech didn’t wait for a response, turning to leave the room the moment he had finished. His heavy frame shifted as he reached for the door. He didn’t expect a response. He didn’t need one. But behind him, he heard the soft rustle of fabric, a barely audible inhale—Cometeater shifting, curling in on himself tighter.

That was enough.

The door clicked shut behind him.

[lycandrophile]

i clicked on the original tweet just to see if anyone else felt as weird about it as i did because at this point i’m just tired of seeing people going on and on about trans men dating cishet men who try to convince them not to transition as if it’s a funny joke about a trans man doing something silly and not a manipulative and generally very unhealthy relationship dynamic that can hurt the trans man involved really deeply (as forcing someone back into the closet tends to do.)

did i find anyone else feeling that way? no. there were a few people pointing out that it was weird in general, and plenty saying it’s a weird thing to say about a cis woman, but nothing expressing any sort of concern about the tired stereotype it’s perpetuating.

but you know what i did find? replies like the one in the second screenshot, using the tweet as their chance to tell the world how much they hate trans men and how repulsive they find the idea of ever being compared to us. and replies like the third one, shaming trans men in relationships like that as if the fact that they’ve found themselves in an unhealthy relationship makes them deserving of public shaming, as if their relationship is hurting anyone other than them.

stereotypes like this just feel like yet another way of indirectly calling us stupid little girls who don’t know what’s good for us, and the fact that a picture of a woman is being used (even jokingly!) as an example of what trans men “like that” look like should make the implications of rhetoric like this all the more obvious.

it’s relationships like these that keep us miserable in the closet for so long and drive up our sexual assault rates even more. they’re not funny and if anyone is going to be making jokes about them, it certainly shouldn’t be people who have never been in that situation. if you actually cared about us you’d be looking for ways to support the trans men you know who are in relationships like that instead of hopping on twitter to joke about how stupid they must be.

i don’t care if it’s a joke. if it victim blames trans men for the transphobia we face in our personal relationships, adds to the common idea that we can’t be trusted to make decisions about our own lives, and invites even more blatant transphobia against us by people who unabashedly admit they see all trans men as “disgusting and phony”, it’s not fucking funny.

(i also want to note that the people making these jokes never like to mention that this also happens to trans men in relationships with queer women. they also hate those trans men, of course, and are happy to express that when they get into fights about trans men who date lesbians, but they’ll never talk about it in the context of this particular stereotype. it’s always a man being manipulative in a relationship and pressuring trans men to not transition, as if a woman would never be capable of such a thing.

they also like to conveniently ignore the existence of older trans men who transitioned after already being in a committed relationship with a cishet man and were able to make that relationship work despite their transition, because acknowledging that would require recognizing that trans men can be in seemingly contradictory relationships and genuinely be happy with their partner. who needs nuance when you can simply choose to judge all trans men for our relationships regardless of what they’re actually like?)

do you think they also would call me “a trans man being purposefully misgendered” with this kind of vitriol because i’m still living with parents who don’t recognize my gender instead of moving out before i’m ready to be financially independent? at this point, i’m starting to feel like they might, with the way every decision a trans man ever makes is the subject of a public debate and people have decided that trans men are secretly using being misgendered as a weapon to somehow hurt other trans people.

as a general rule, i’d say the only people who should be making “X looks like a trans man” jokes about literally anyone/anything are trans men, and posts like this show exactly why those jokes being made by anyone else (even by other trans people) just isn’t a good idea.

[nanthegirl]

06.01.2025 you guys have no idea how long I’ve waited to post a gorgeous bowl of ramen🙂‍↕️

• Went to the lab and sort of finalized my model. I’ll go over some teeny tiny details tomorrow then start printing. I really need to lock in cause I want to be done by April. My productivity is so shit in the lab and I’ve concluded it’s due to the excessive lighting but there’s not much I can do about that.

• Worked on some Biomechanics Flashcards and general revision.

• I arranged for someone to look at the apartment. If she agrees to move in, I’m dragging her down to the office to sign the contract immediately. I’m not giving her a chance to get away lmao.

• I cleaned up a bit in preparation for tomorrow. Also my roommate has to pay rent for January so I get to stay till the end of the month while we find someone to move in. But she’s already paying for her new place so I offered to cover it but she said no🥹. I’ve been thinking of a gift to get her when she finally leaves cause she’s been so amazing and we’re hardly even friends.

• Finally decided to roll up my sleeves and start working on my thesis. But, alas, the template magically disappeared from the school website. So.

🌲: 49mins. My focus was so shit but I’m forgiving myself cause it’s my first day back on the grind😔

📖: A Little Life. I planned on giving page updates but I’m in bed and I don’t recall where I stopped lmao.

☀️: Had a study call with my sister that broke down into just catching up. Also called my brother and he shockingly gave me good advice. Spent some time with friends.

[kawacake]

Only one | Oliver Aiku

Masterlist

Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, Cheating, Baby trapping (manipulation via pregnancy), Emotional manipulation, Gaslighting, Verbal arguments/fights, Implied sexual content, Cursing/profanity, Slight possessiveness/obsession, Parental neglect themes (OLIVER), Mentions of emotional distress, SPELLING MISTAKES!!

W/C: 4k+

A/n: YAWL I’M BACK TO WRITING TODAY I also switched some stuff up like putting INT & EXT hope you like it😛but umm here’s something that came to me from watching an Oliver edit and I would like to say I don’t condone any actions like this and if you’re going through something like this please reach out for help. Other than that I hope you enjoy and leave a heart and reblog and even a comment if you liked it I’d appreciate it, and one last thing I didn’t tag anyone in this because it’s quite literally so early in the morning and I just wanted to get this out💔 BYEEE.

INT. HOSPITAL - LABOR ROOM - NIGHT

The room is dimly lit, buzzing with machines and tension. Hair clinging to your forehead as you gripped the sheets of the hospital bed, legs trembling as your screams bounced off the walls. The nurse counted you down while holding your hand.

“Push, just one more you got this.” The nurse said encouraging you to give one more good push. Oliver paces near the wall, fists clenched, looking like he wants to bolt. He’s only 17, and reality is sinking in like a stone in his stomach. He’s dressed in a hoodie, black joggers, cleats still on from practice. He wasn’t ready for this. 

You had called him 40 minutes into his practice screaming at him to come get you NOW because your water had broken while watching a movie so he rushed over to your house and drove you to the nearest hospital while praying he wouldn’t pass out behind the wheel. 

“Why the FUCK are you standing over there for?! This is your damn baby too!” You screamed at him as he stumbled towards you grabbing your hand trying to stay calm while watching the nurses try their hardest to get the baby out.

“HURRY UP AND GET IT OUT!” You screamed at the nurses as the pain seemed to get worse, that’s what you get for refusing any medication when you first got here. “I’m here. I got you, okay? Just breathe. I’m not going anywhere.” Oliver reassured you brushing hair out of your face. 

You snarled at him “You better not I’d fucking kill you.” The monitor spikes up as the nurse looks up at you and urges that you push one last time as you let out a deep guttural cry, and then a shrill, wet wail cuts through the room.

“IT’S A GIRL!” The nurse cheers Oliver's breath hitches. The world seemed to fade out as the nurse lifted the tiny little human and placed it on your chest.

Tears formed in your eyes as you looked down at your baby. You’re sobbing now, exhausted, broken but your eyes are wide with something Oliver couldn’t name, maybe fear, love, or maybe both. Oliver just stares, and it hits him, he’s a father, and you’re now stuck with him. Something deep in his twisted heart loves it.

He leaned down and kissed your forehead. “Forever.” He whispered and you didn’t react, just held the baby closer to you. 

PRESENT DAY

After graduating and everything Aiku had also gotten big in the soccer world but that didn’t surprise you one bit he was an amazing soccer player he even started teaching your daughter how to play once she learned how to walk.

But nowadays your relationship with Oliver has been rocky, a lot of arguments about him doing shit he knows he’s not supposed to be doing. Last night the screaming match pushed you to your limits.

“So how is your relationship with ‘your future wife’?” The interviewer said quoting what Oliver had said about you in a past interview. 

He tilted his head a little. “Everything is perfect, I wouldn't ask for anything more.” “That’s nice to hear, what about your daughter? Sources say you’ve been teaching her soccer since she started walking?” The interviewer laughed causing Aiku to let out a small chuckle too. “Yeah she’s two now and what can I say she’s doing better than some of these big soccer players.” He joked letting out a small chuckle. 

“MOMMY!” Your daughter yelled marching into your room while you were packing your bags because of the fight. “Daddy’s on tv.” She said as you forced a smile on your face “That’s nice baby.” You said now facing the girl that stood at your doorway. “Where are we going?” She tilted her head similar to the way her dad tilted his head.

He made it so it looked like you were the perfect family on the internet and that pissed you off so much. “Nowhere..” You say now looking at the halfway packed suitcase with yours and your daughter’s clothes in it.

This was stupid you were overexaggerating, you were about to pack your stuff and leave over a petty fight. But you were sick of being in love with someone who didn’t care if he burned you out in the process of becoming everything he dreamed of.

-

You started at the clock on your nightstand as it displayed the time 2:53. The room was dark except for the glow from your daughter's baby monitor. “Everything is perfect, I wouldn't ask for anything more.” You stared blankly at your phone. No new messages, no phone calls, no updates. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. He'd come in tomorrow and say ‘I was out with the boys’ or some corny shit like that as an excuse. 

Your fingers hovered over his name in your contacts. You didn’t call. The front door never opened.

The front door opened at 8am, the sun shining through the windows of the kitchen shining on the marble floor as you made you and your daughter some breakfast. He walked in like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t left you alone all night. His hair was a little messy, hoodie half-zipped, and he didn’t even bother taking off his shoes.

“Good morning.” He said, wrapping his arms around your waist as you shoved him off of you. He moved back and looked at you, raising a brow. “What? Are you mad?” You stared at him for a second, then let out a soft, humorless laugh.

“Where were you?” “I told you I was with the guys.” He leaned against the counter, eyes scanning your face. “You don’t trust me anymore?” You let the spatula clatter into the sink. “You’re not someone worth trusting anymore, Oliver.” You say as your daughter walks her way into the kitchen “C’mon don’t start your shit.” You turned your whole body facing him “I’m tired of you making it seem like I’m the crazy one when I react to your bullshit.” You said eyes are sharp.

He didn’t say anything, just stared at you before walking up to you grabbing your hands before you pushed him away causing him to lose a grip on your hands. “If you wanna play single, go ahead. But don’t pretend we’re some perfect little family for the cameras.” You shouted at him before you heard a sniffle from the kitchen table causing you to look over at the young girl that had tears in her eyes. 

He didn’t say anything. Just stared at you as you went to pick up the 2 year old, jaw tight, like you were a problem he didn’t know how to solve. And the worst part? You knew he’d probably do it again. And you hated how a part of you still wanted him anyway.

After the small fight you went on with your day ignoring Oliver for the rest of the day but letting your daughter spend some time with her dad since he’s barely there due to ‘games’.

You watched as he showed her how to dribble the soccer ball praying he didn’t see the smile that appeared on your face. But you couldn’t lie, moments like this made you happy. You wished it was always like this.

Soon the sky turned dark as Oliver wrapped up the small soccer game he and his daughter were playing where he let the little girl score on him the whole time. You stepped outside “I’ll go give her a bath, could you order something.” You say picking up the girl entering the house.

Steam fogged up the mirror as the water splashed softly around your daughter. You were kneeling beside the tub, gently rinsing the shampoo from her hair, lost in your own thoughts “Do you hate Daddy?” She asked so innocently which made your heart ache “why would you ask that?” She shrugged her shoulders “Because you’re always mad at him. And Daddy said you don’t love him anymore.” You bit the inside of your cheek staring at the little girl who deserved a loving home where both parents are happy and there for her and most of all love each other.

She blinked up at you “So you still love daddy?” She asked as you bit harder, feeling the taste of blood in your mouth now. “Yeah I do now let’s finish your bath.” You are telling her the truth.

-

After eating dinner you put your daughter to bed because being outside wore her out. “We’re not done Y/n.” He said leaning against the doorframe, you didn’t respond but your back facing him but your hands clinched the bed sheets. “Alright let’s end it then. One way or another.” You whipped your head toward him “You’re a fucking mess.” “Then maybe we’re meant for each other.” He responded to you. Before you could say another word, his lips crashed into yours. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t romantic. It was a collision of frustration, anger, and desperate need. He backed you into the wall, your breath heavy, the fight still fresh in the air. His hands were on your hips, pulling you in closer as if he was trying to suffocate the tension between you both with passion.

He kissed you deeper, pulling at your clothes, and you didn’t even have the strength to stop him. You just wanted to feel something, anything but the crushing weight of the mess you’d both created. The sex was rough. A blur of tangled limbs, harsh words, and tangled emotions. But it was also familiar. Comforting, in a sick way. You let him inside you, let him have control, because you didn’t know how to control him, or yourself. 

Oliver didn’t pull out.

You thought nothing of it but he had this whole thing figured out, he felt you slipping away so he had to do something about it.

-

INT. PLANNED PARENTHOOD - NOON

You had just done a blood test a week ago. Now you were sitting on the table waiting for your doctor that told you about your first pregnancy to come back to the room. You bit your nails nervously more nervous than you were 2 years ago maybe because you had Oliver with you back then. Tears started to form in your eyes again similar to the first time but this time you didn’t have anyone to hold you and tell you it was alright and that you’d get through this together. 

“Please, Please, Please.” You said trying to calm yourself down only as your hands started to shake your mind going to the worst possible things ever. ‘What if Oliver leaves you this time.’ Or ‘You can’t even handle one kid, you're just 19 you’re still learning and growing yourself how could you take care of two kids.’ You held yourself firmly and soon after the doctor entered the room with an envelope in his hand.

“Here you go.” He said handing the envelope over to you, you opened the envelope reading through the basic stuff like thanks for your patience and stuff then saw the results in big bold words. YOU ARE PREGNANT🎉. 

Your whole world seemed to crash down on you, your hands started to shake and the doctor gave you a worried expression. “Do you need me to call someone?” He said looking down at his clipboard “I could call your mom.” You shoot your eyes towards him “What no! She died three years ago.” You said tears in your eyes while stumbling over words “Well I’ll call Aiku Oliver he’s the second person on emergency contact.” The doctor said keeping his composure so you wouldn’t freak out even more. 

“No please.” “I have to, I can't let you behind the wheel when you’re obviously not doing well ma’am.” He said picking up the phone dialing the number that was on the paper. He spoke with Oliver telling him to come pick you up but he never told him why you were there but Aiku was smart he knew exactly why you were there. 

It took him less than fifteen minutes to get there which scared you when he slammed the door open revealing him and your daughter on his hip. “What happened?” He said, faking the worried expression as the doctor handed him the paper you had read off earlier as his eyes read through it he finally got to the end of the paper and his eyes went wide as if he was surprised. 

He put down your daughter and looked at you with an excited look as he walked up to you pulling you into a hug, a tight one like if he let you go you’d disappear. “C’mon let’s go I’ll get someone to come get your car.” He said helping you off the table as your two year old just looked at the two of you confused as the three of you walked out of the building. 

“You did this on purpose.” You said putting your seatbelt on as he turned to look at you “I have no idea what you’re talking about L/n.” He said pulling out of the parking lot while your daughter started babbling about any and everything. 

-

INT. HOSPITAL - LABOR ROOM - NOON

The last nine months have been HELL on earth for Oliver. You made every single day hell for him even for the slightest thing but he put up with it because he loved you. Surprisingly he even woke up late at night for you driving hours on end for some weird fruit that you randomly started to crave. 

But then the day finally came you were about to yell at him to go get you some weird shaped pizza but then you felt the warm liquid run down your leg as Aiku went into panic just like last time and rushed you to the hospital making a quick stop at his moms house dropping off his daughter before speeding to the hospital. 

“PUSH ON IT ASSHOLE BEFORE I PUSH THIS BABY OUT ON YOUR CAR FLOOR.” You yelled and you weren’t lying you had already started to push which horrified him as he started to go over 100.

Now you were back in a similar hospital bed holding onto Oliver’s hand as he looked at you with admiration “You got it baby, I’m not leaving ever.” He said as a smile spread across your lips because you knew he wasn’t lying. 

“I know Oliver.” You said while pushing as he gave you a reassuring smile. As twisted as your relationship was, the two of you still loved each other no matter how much the two of you tried to convince each other you didn’t. 

“OHMYGOD GET IT OUT!” You yelled at the nurse as one of them laughed at you as you paused and looked at him “Did you just laugh.” You looked down at him as he looked scared for a second as Oliver laughed and you turned towards him as his facial expression went neutral.

Then you felt the urge to push and you did as the doctors panicked “NO, NO, NO, NO!” One of the nurses said trying to get you to stop pushing but you kept on as the baby’s head started to come out then a few more pushes the baby was finally out. “It’s a boy! Congratulations mom and dad.” The male nurse said laying the baby on top of you.

“Holy fuck he looks exactly like you.” You said looking at the crying baby who opened his eyes showing his Heterochromia eyes leaving Oliver shocked looking at his baby. You definitely weren't leaving him now.

-

FOUR MONTHS LATER

Yeah you just had a baby literally identical to Oliver and you thought maybe that would be enough to stop doing the stupid shit he was doing but no it was like a cycle that you wanted to break.

But if you couldn’t break it you would just leave him.

“Mommyyyy.” Your oldest daughter let out looking like she was ready to fall out. “Yes?” You said fixing the end of your dress. “I don’t wanna go to gammy house.” She complained falling out on the floor as you lifted her up dusting off her pants.

She had gotten used to being around you all the time so when it was time for her to go to someone else’s house or anything of that sort she wanted to fall out. The baby on the other hand, he was quiet most of the time unless you didn't feed him when he wanted then you’d have a huge problem. 

“I’m going out, you're just going to be with gammy for a few hours.” You said kneeling down to the girl's height she pouted but nodded her head. “Now go put on your shoes, we gotta go now and put an extra baby bottle in your brother's baby bag.” You said walking into your room picking up your bag and grabbing your keys. 

Oliver’s mom's house wasn’t too far away from your house so that was a quick and easy drive now you were on your way to the restaurant that the guy you met suggested. One part of you felt happy about it because he knew about your past and your two kids but still stayed. But another part of you felt guilty because you knew you still had love for Oliver, a toxic type of love, a type of love that nobody else could give you. 

Pulling into the restaurant's parking lot you felt a shiver down your spine but you still stepped out of the car and entered the restaurant. The guy you were meeting was also just entering the restaurant and gave the hostess the name and time and the hostess let the two of you enter and seat the two of you also.

“You look beautiful.” He said as a smile appeared on your face “Thank you.” Was the only thing you could say as you picked up the menu and started flipping through it “You have two kids right, how old are you?” You paused and looked at him while smiling “Yeah I’m nineteen turning twenty soon.” You said with smile not leaving your face because you refused to be ashamed of your own mistakes.

“Must be hard, is the dad still around?” “Yeah he loves them.” You said no lie detected before his face went straight “Does he still love you?” “No but at one point I wished he did.” You said looking back down at the menu.

Now the rest of the date was going well. He even got closer to you and you had the bright idea to take a quick boomerang on your phone. Your drink in one hand, his hand in full view on your leg. You post it to your story with nothing but a heart emoji. You knew exactly what you were doing.

INT. SOCCER STADIUM – LOCKER ROOM – NIGHT

Oliver's lacing up his cleats, phone in hand when the notification lights up his screen. He clicks, pauses, he stares at the image for too long. Too quiet. The locker room is loud, but his brain isn’t registering a word anyone’s saying.

“Yo, you good?” Niko asked, looking at the obviously upset Oliver. Oliver’s jaw ticks “Yeah I’m good.”.

He’s not, not when he’s walking out onto the field during warm-ups thinking about how some guy had his hand on you, his future wife, the mother of his kids. Thinking about what you were doing when he wasn’t there.

-

A sigh left your lips as you walked through the front door heels in hand before you heard the front door slam shut like in the movies. 

You looked behind you to see a very upset Oliver. “You left my fucking kids at my mom house to go out with a fucking man, Y/n are you fucking kidding me.” You just blinked at him then tilted your head. “Like you don’t leave me with them for days on end while you go out and cheat on me.” You said as softly as he scoffed at you before walking into the living room as you followed behind him. 

“You wanna act like me so bad, huh?” You looked at him with disbelief “No, I wanna remind you that I could be you if I wanted to.” You said as he started walking towards you.

“I cheated on you, you know this you’ve always known this and you got your get back. I won’t do it again, do you trust me?” You let out an unpleasant laugh in his face “THE FUCK?!” You said rolling your eyes at the audacity this man had.

“You’re fucking insane Oliver I’ve been wanting to leave your crazy ass for the longest you know?” You pointed at his face and shoved him away from you but he walked back up to you again.

“You’re not going anywhere.” He said grabbing your face pulling you closer to him “You have two kids with me, you’re stuck with me baby.” His hand now moved down to your waist. “Get the fuck away from me.” You screamed at him pushing him back off of you before you walked back towards the front door and slid on a pair of crocs. 

“Where the fuck are you going?” He was irritated at your actions “To get my kids and getting away from you.” You said, meaning every word you just said. “You’ll be back and you know it, you'll think you need someone else but really you just need me.” He said as you scoffed and walked out the door slamming it in his face. 

After picking up your kids you started to drive with no destination in mind till you realized you were on your way back to your old house. It was only an hour away so you continued to drive silently the whole time. The road stretches endlessly in front of you, headlights cutting through the dark. Your daughter is fast asleep in the back seat, curled against the window with her blanket bunched under her cheek. The baby’s quiet, occasionally letting out soft breaths that remind you he’s still there, still yours, still needing you. 

But even with the breathing of both of your kids your thoughts went back to Oliver. Every argument, every apology, every kiss that tastes like a trap, every time you swore it was the last time, and yet you stayed, your grip on the steering wheel tightens every time his voice echoes in your head. 

By the time you pull into your dad’s driveway, the sky’s started to bruise purple. The sun is barely rising, casting an orange glow over the porch. You sit in the car for a minute, hands shaking slightly as you look at your reflection in the rearview mirror. Eyes swollen, face bare, exhausted, you knock softly, once, twice.

When the door opens, your father doesn’t say anything at first. He just looks at you then your baby’s then back at you then let out a tired sigh as he steps forward and pulls you into a hug like he used to when you were little. You melt into it. The baby stirs in the car seat, your daughter still fast asleep in your arms. “Come inside,” he says quietly. “I’ll set up the guest room.���

You stay there for a week.

No posts, no texts, no calls answered, Not even his. The days are slow and quiet. Your dad makes pancakes every morning. You sit on the porch with your baby and let your daughter chase butterflies in the backyard. You cry once, in the shower because that’s the only place they won’t see you fall apart.

-

EXT. STADIUM – EVENING

It’s game day, the stadium is buzzing, stadium lights burning like suns overhead, music blares through the speakers, the announcers talk fast, hyped voices bouncing off every wall

“Aiku’s back on the field tonight fresh off a messy breakup. Will heartbreak affect the game or fuel it?” The crowd gets louder at the mention of his name. Section signs wave in the air, girls scream, cameras flash.

Oliver Aiku jogs across the field for warm-ups, sweat already glistening across his brow, his hair down, calm, confident. That same smug smirk on his lips. He dribbles the ball like nothing’s wrong, like his whole life isn’t unraveling in slow motion behind his eyes. He hears his name chanted “Aiku! Aiku!” but it’s all static to him, white noise, Like always.

Until he stops mid-jog, head snapping toward the front row, like something just shifted.

Section C.

His eyes narrow. Through the barricade of fans and flashing cameras, you’re standing, front row, lips glossed, wearing his jersey, his name and number on your back the same as the other two kids like a brand. Your baby boy is nestled against your hip, wide eyes blinking at the lights. And your daughter clapping like she knows every cheer in the book, swinging her legs like she owns the world.

And maybe she does, because you showed up, her mommy, his weakness.

Two days ago, Oliver looked right into a reporter’s lens and said, “We’re done. I’m just focused on my career and my kids.” And now she’s here, looking like everything he's ever lost and everything he still wants, like every sin he’s ever committed.

Oliver’s teammates are calling for him, The coach is signaling. The whistle blows, but he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t breathe, because you’re here. Like you always were. Like he always prayed you’d be. Suddenly the crowd vanishes, the lights dull, the field blurs.

All he sees is you, all he hears is the memory of your voice in the dark. The slam of the door, the silence that followed. Because no matter who he’s sleeping with, no matter how many goals he scores, how much fame he earns, or how far you run.

You’re the only one who’s ever owned his soul, and you’ll always come back.

[desaturate-worlds]

logan falls in love first. not in an unrequited way, but in a way so immediate there was never going to be any competition. he’s in love with wade before he even agrees to move in with him, well before they ever kiss or talk about whatever the fuck their relationship is. he is in love with wade in a way that doesn’t leave room for nuance or argument.

when they do (finally, blessedly) get together in a way that’s more than wade’s boisterous flirting and both of their dancing around the topic, logan has to fight the words slipping out of his mouth practically every minute of the day. he knows it’s too soon to put that pressure on wade, but god he’s in love.

when they’ve been together exactly one month (but who’s counting?) (logan is), it finally forces itself out. when logan makes his way into the living room that evening after a shower, wade is curled up in the corner of the couch, mary puppins snoring away in his lap. he’s wearing one of logan’s softer flannels - they got it at a thrift store so it had that pre-worn comfort built in - and custom pajama pants with the little dog’s face on them. mary is wearing a matching little sweater with wade, logan, and althea’s faces all over it (logan had not been involved in this purchase, but he could admit to himself that it was pretty cute).

he feels a warmth come over him at the sight, a feeling he can’t quite place when he sees the merc being able to relax and cozy up on a random wednesday night with their dog. he knows that life was never exactly easy for wade, he’s there when the nightmares and bad days and assassins hit. he was goddamn grateful that wade could be afforded a kindness like watching a dumb cartoon while wearing his boyfriend’s shirt.

he’s only watching the other man for a few seconds before he’s caught. the mercenary looks up at him and smiles so easily, so warmly, that logan can’t help it. he walks straight to wade, grabs his face, and plants a soft kiss on his forehead. “i’m so in love with you.”

his voice is barely a whisper, but he knows wade hears it by the way he goes shock still. logan pulls back to look at him, worried that he fucked this up before it even got solid footing. but when he looks at wade, he sees the blinding smile on the other man’s face.

“god, i’ve been trying not to say the same thing to you for weeks now. i’m fucking in love with you, peanut.”

[ghastlybirdie]

I went grocery shopping and couldn’t be bothered to carry everything bit by bit to the third floor so I had six heavy bags between each arm and carrying two crates of more groceries as well as my purse and giant whiteboard so it was a great struggle to climb to the third floor

So I fantasized about that mutton chop neighbor again

Imagining that he comes outside his apartment, maybe to grab mail, and seeing you struggling with an absurd amount of groceries, grunting and whining about how heavy everything is

So he rushed to you and scoops away the crates of fruits and snatches three of the bags from you as you stumbled down the narrow hall

You exclaim in some graceless manner, equally surprised and relieved at your arms being freed

“Ya got quite the armful, love?” He asked, unbothered by the weight load and awkward armholds. John, he introduced himself as when he beat down the door some weeks ago, asked for the rest of the bags. Even if you denied again and again he won’t concede until he’s removed everything but your purse from your hands.

It sounded near like an order when he told you to lead the way, one more flight of steps won’t kill him he says, before gesturing with his eyes. You won’t try to think about how little space he gave you to pass him by in the narrow hall, making no effort to move. You chalk it up to him hands being completely full, despite his entryway being more than enough room for him to move back.

John carefully drops your groceries down to the ground and even helps you put it away, giving up on rejecting him after he couldn’t hear your four times repeated refusal. John already knew where all the spices went, and even where your breakfast pastries go in your pantry, but you suppose it was good guesses since he mixed up your recently organized junk drawer for your knife drawer

Once everything was put away, and kitchen quickly tidied by your awkward need to keep busy, John prolonged his stay by pointing to water damage at the baseboard of your walls and inspecting it with hums and hahs, muscles barely contained in his undersized shirt

He says he’ll be over later, will tools and supplies after a run to the hardware store, mentioning something about a good friend who’s a plumber and can look at these pipes with a knowing eye

“Bloke lays pipe real well” a passing tongue-in-cheek that seemed too literal to be anything less than a joke as John saw himself out

He made sure to mention to keep your door locked tight

“Heard there’s been a lot of break ins in the area. Don’t worry… I’ll keep you safe.”

[limnsaber]

Ok msr thoughts while I think Mulder does feel possessive about Scully it’s sort of in a low-key way where he’s comfortable being like “yeah I am”, if anything that Mulder does could be described as low key, lol. Scully, on the other hand, is possessive and closed off and is prone to intense jealousy. Wait I just realized this is another example of a Mulder-Scully dichotomy. They both feel it equally but the potency of their expressions is inverted. Anyway I think we focus a lot on Mulder’s ease of expressing those feelings in episode three when really by actions and emotions it’s Scully who’s by all accounts much more prone towards intense green-eyed feelings and acts of possessiveness

[fallenwhumpee]

"An Hour."

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Hospital settings, aftermath of captivity, mentioned death.

Medic, despite what their job would suggest, wasn't a caregiver. They were just a mechanic working on circuits, not who carefully kept the whole mechanism running. They could fix people, but it was that. Someone would have to take over the aftermath.

Much to Medic's relief, Leader was a caregiver. A good one, even.

Too good, they lately noticed. Too good that it was starting to make Medic worried. But just like every other day, Medic knocked the infirmary door in exactly same time, before opening it fully. Youngest was asleep in the hospital bed - Medic had said Leader that it was unnecessary, but Leader  brought one anyway - and at last drops of their IV.

"An hour," Leader muttered. At this point it felt like a ritual. So, without a word, Medic moved and changed Youngest's IV to antibiotics as Leader deserted the room silently. Probably to sleep.

Good, Medic thought. Leader needed it.

Medic made their way to the armchair, only to see Leader's office keys on it. For a moment, they considered giving it back. They respected privacy, but they were also curious. For the last one month and a half, all Leader did was looking for Youngest, caring for Youngest or staying in their office. The first two was understandable, but the third...

Now Medic could learn whatever Leader was doing in their office.

Medic hesitated. They shouldn’t invade Leader’s privacy—Leader had done nothing to earn suspicion, at all. And Leader never broke anyone's boundries, so Medic doing it to them was just wrong. But something had been gnawing at the back of Medic’s mind for weeks now, something beyond the usual worry for Youngest. Leader’s behavior, so single-minded, so intense, felt wrong. So wrong for someone almost obsessed with making the future better. And if there was something in that office that could explain it...

Steeling themselves, Medic turned and walked down the hall to Leader’s office. The key slid into the lock with an ease that almost felt too simple. "Where's Leader?" Medic shouted. Leader's room was wide open and Leader wasn't there.

"Went for a quick walk," Right Hand shouted back.

Medic took a deep breath. "Okay," they muttered. With a simple twist, the door creaked open. Medic slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind them slowly. The room was dim, the only light filtering through the half-drawn blinds, casting long shadows across the walls. At first glance, it looked like any other office—neat, organized, professional. Just like how Leader liked to keep everything. Medic opened the lights.

Notes. Dozens of them, pinned to a board on the wall, scattered across the desk, and even taped to the edges of the bookshelves, almost creating a wallpaper. Most were in Leader’s precise handwriting, detailing locations, names, dates, and other pieces of information that, together, painted a picture out of a detective's office. Medic’s gaze was drawn to a map on the wall, marked with pins and red string connecting various points. They moved closer, recognizing the locations as places where incidents had occurred—break-ins, disappearances, attacks. All related to Youngest.

Their heart pounded as they picked up a file from the desk. It had a picture, the person's face partially obscured, but there was no mistaking who it was. Medic had seen that face around Whumper—one of the underlings of them. The person had been found dead two weeks ago, the cause still under investigation. There were detailed reports about them, autopsies, locations, biographies... informations that Medic doubted Leader had the authority to kno let alone storing.

They set the file down, their hands trembling slightly. Leader had been gathering evidence, but it wasn’t just about finding Youngest. It was about something more.

Another photo on the desk caught their eye. Medic took it, revealing more photos, more notes underneath. Some were crossed out, others highlighted. A list of names—people connected to the kidnapping—each one with a note beside it: confirmed dead, under surveillance, possible lead.

Some of these people were no longer a threat because they were dead. Was it coincidence, or had Leader...?

The sound of footsteps in the hallway snapped Medic out of their thoughts. They hurriedly closed the folder and placed thr picture back on the desk, glancing around to make sure everything was as they’d found it. The door clicked shut just as the office door opened.

Leader stepped inside, looking tired but alert. They froze for a moment, eyes narrowing as they stared in the sight of Medic standing in their office.

“What are you doing here?” Leader’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it, a warning.

Medic tried to keep their expression neutral, forcing a casual shrug qs if they weren’t digging through the room for the last ten minutes. “You left your keys on the chair. Thought I’d drop them off.”

Leader’s gaze flicked to the keys in Medic’s hand, then back to their face. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Leader crossed the room, taking the keys with a nod.

“Thank you,” they said, their tone polite but distant. “Please wait for my return next time.”

Medic nodded, feeling the tension in the air like a physical weight. They turned to leave, but couldn’t help one last glance at the desk, at the folder now lying innocently on the surface.

Leader didn’t miss the look. “Is there something else?”

“No,” Medic replied quickly, shaking their head. “Just... take care of yourself, okay? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

Leader’s expression relaxed, a smile so soft and tender taking over. “Don't worry. Byt you should get some rest too.”

How could Medic be suspicious of them when all Leader did was worrying and caring for the team? Shoving the guilt down, they forced a smile and left the office.

-•-

Later that day, Medic was in the break room when the news broke. The television mounted on the wall buzzed with static before the anchor’s voice cut in, somber and urgent.

“We interrupt this program with breaking news. Henchman, a key figure in the recent string of criminal activities linked to the late terrorist Whumper, was found dead earlier this evening. Authorities are investigating, but details remain scarce at this time.”

Medic’s blood ran cold. Henchman—another name on Leader’s list. Dead. Just like the others.

They stood frozen, the room spinning around them. The timeline didn’t add up. Leader couldn’t have done it—they had only left the office for ten minutes, not enough time to cross the city and back. But the coincidences were too many, too pointed.

When Medic next saw Leader, they couldn’t help but study their face, searching for anything. But Leader looked even more drained than the last time, still trying to hold it together desperately. When Medic mentioned the news, Leader’s response was calm, almost indifferent.

“Tragic, but not unexpected,” Leader muttered, shrugging slightly. They weren’t even focused— they looked like they could just collapse and take a twenty four hour nap. “Agency was after them. It was only a matter of time.”

Medic nodded slowly, but the uneasy feeling in their gut only grew. There was something, something that was beyond their understanding. But as Leader walked away, Medic knew one thing for certain— Leader was doing something wrong. It was either their sleeping habits or the team had a huge problem.

-•-

Soo, have another random one. This is standalone, but I wrote this with "A Score to Settle" in my mind. Not quite part two, but I began writing with that intention.

[skyward-floored]

I have so many questions about Warriors and his magic. And the triforce. What is happening, why is it happening, and how did I not know this sooner?

XD Well I’ll give you as good of an explanation as I’m able!

So at the beginning of Hyrule Warriors, Link is just a soldier trainee of sorts, just doing drills and sparring and stuff and not wearing a helmet the dummy. When an army of monsters attack Hyrule, the trainees aren’t supposed to go fight but Link runs out anyway because he’s Link you know.

Impa and Zelda are both impressed by his skill and they start wondering if maybe he’s the hero (Zelda actually saw him earlier while he was training, they made brief eye contact). They can’t be sure though, and there’s a lot going on and the castle’s being attacked and they all lose contact with Zelda and then Link finds himself face to face with this dragon knight guy named Volga.

Link does okay but Volga finally smacks him out of the way and decides to kill him, and Impa comes to help him, but Volga decides to just blast them both to death with his fire breath. Link jumps forward at the last second and throws himself in front of Impa, but the fire engulfs them both.

Except... it doesn’t work. Because Link has his hand stretched out and the Triforce of courage is protecting both him and Impa from certain death. Turns out she was right— Link is the hero, and has a piece of the Triforce.

And in lu, he actually has a large scar from the incident!

Now that’s the only time Link explicitly uses the Triforce to help himself, but it’s obviously something he can do, even if it’s subconscious. For the rest of his magic though, he’s able to use it much more freely.

For starters there’s focus spirit— which is actually an ability that everyone can use, not just Link— once your magic meter is full, it essentially heightens your focus and makes you hit harder, culminating in a big attack right at the end. You’re also glowing as you use it, and it takes a while to get enough magic to use it at all, which means it’s pretty powerful I’d say. I wonder if Warriors’ll ever use it in the comic or not?

The other big magic thing is one of Link’s main weapons— the fire rod. Link shows off a great proficiency with it, and is able to do several different attacks with the thing, including sending a big fire dragon out that spirals around and hits stuff. It’s one of his main weapons too, so obviously he’s pretty good at it!

And of course, the less obvious magic of his fairy friend Proxi, who gives hints and basically speaks for Link. He can obviously talk to her, plus... the great fairies seem to have a keen interest in him (yikes).

Now I’m sure there’s more magic he uses that I either haven’t unlocked or can’t access (since I have the “boring” version of his game XD) but I think that’s mostly it. Does that answer all your questions? (hopefully this was helpful!)

[caterpillarinacave]

for your prompt (I‘m bad at this I‘m sorry) — Christopher Lightwood + his scientific spirit + mushrooms (throw in some of the merry thieves or henry or grace or anna whatever you feel like)

——-

“It’s fascinating,” Christopher continued, holding the mushroom up to the light, “Fungi exist so entirely separately from the rest of the world. They aren’t plants, they aren’t animals; they can wreck crops and grow them, they decompose piles of debris like it’s nothing and can be squished beneath a boot. They’re the tool and the builder of the natural world, they save everything and they kill everything. We see them everywhere, as these tiny little things, as if the mycelium doesn’t stretch for miles beneath our feet, as if we aren’t so small compared to them.”

Christopher fell back into his chair, looking immensely satisfied, and upsetting tall glass full of strange shimmering liquid, that seemed to slosh around in its container at an oddly delayed pace. He did not seem to notice.

“Christopher-“ Henry began.

“No matter how many you pulled up, or what ground you burned, you could never kill- oh.” 

Henry, thankfully, had managed to lean across Christopher, narrowly righting the glass before it could tip its shimmering contents onto the table; the likes of which flashing with little streaks of color as it hit the sides of the container. Henry set it down on his side of the table, carefully away from the papers he’d been scribbling on, to search through a drawer for a lid.

Christopher looked sheepish; “I did not mean to do that.” 

“Do remember that you can, in fact, be killed,”  Henry responded mildly, ever agreeable, capping the glass bottle and offering it to Christopher “Gesture vividly away from the table.”

“Of course,” Christopher replied, looking a little abashed, but took the bottle none the less “Thank you.”

Henry hummer amicably in response, unbothered. “I believe you were saying something about the mycelium?”

“Oh, yes indeed” Christopher replied eagerly, sitting forward “Wait a second, I’ve got some about this in my notebook…”

—-

[fingertipsmp3]

If I have another week like this one I’m going to run away and go to nail tech school I am so serious

[kawacake]

OFFSIDE CRUSH | “This Was My Favorite Day”

Masterlist, Prev, Next

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror fixing every little detail, once you were done you looked down at your phone noticing multiple missed calls from Reo, Isagi, and Bachira and a single text from Nagi “I’m outside. Hurry.” You grabbed your bag and walked out of your room making your way towards the exit of the huge building.

At the exit stood the three boys and a few others that waited for their ride. “FINALLY!” Bachira said, shoving his phone in his pocket “I was about to come drag you out myself.” He said as the five of you walked out of the building walking to the car garage where Ego had some people park your car when you first got here.

“I’ve been ready,” you say, shooting him a look. “You guys are the ones blowing up my phone like I’m your mom.” “I was being polite,” Reo defends, walking a little ahead to fix his reflection in a side mirror. “Also, I needed to confirm which outfit I should wear first. This is a public appearance.” “You changed three times,” Isagi mutters behind him.

“Because fashion is a strategy, Isagi.” Meanwhile, Nagi trails silently behind the group, hands in his pockets and eyes half-lidded like this entire thing is cutting into his nap schedule.

You lead the group down the ramp to the garage, keys in hand, feeling all their voices buzzing around you. There’s excitement in the air, the kind of jittery thrill that comes with doing something totally normal… that somehow feels like a mission.

“You sure Ego said yes?” Isagi asks, eyeing the car. “Would we be down here if he didn’t?” you reply, unlocking the doors with a beep. “I guilt-tripped the hell out of him, don’t worry.” Everyone piles into the car, Reo plugging in the aux cord like it’s a sacred ritual. Nagi slouches into the passenger seat without a word. You slide into the driver’s seat, put your sunglasses on, and glance at your chaotic little squad.

“You guys go ahead,” Reo says way too fast, already dragging Bachira and Isagi by the sleeve. “We’ll catch up!”

You narrow your eyes at them, but they’re already gone, disappearing into neon lights and the sound of tokens clinking. You glance at Nagi, who’s still standing beside you, hands in his pockets and a sleepy look in his eyes. “They ditched us on purpose, didn’t they?” you ask, smirking. He shrugs. “Probably. I’m not complaining, though.”

You let out a soft laugh and nudge him with your shoulder. “C’mon. You’re playing air hockey with me.” Ten minutes in, and Nagi’s somehow good at every game. He barely tries, just casually hits buttons or flicks the joystick like he’s bored, and still beats your high score.

“You’re a menace,” you mumble, watching him hit the jackpot on a claw machine with one try. “How did you even-” He hands you the stuffed toy without looking at it. “You wanted it, right?” You take it, biting back a grin. “I didn’t even say that.” “Didn’t need to.”

Eventually, you pull out your phone to snap a few pictures for the PR page, him pretending to be focused at a racing game, you holding your prize like a victory trophy, and somehow, he ends up taking your phone.

“Pose,” he says simply. You blink. “What?”

“For your page,” he explains, lifting your phone. “Gotta show them their favorite manager having fun.” You laugh but oblige. He takes a few, then lowers the phone and hands it back with a lazy smirk.

“Post that one,” he mumbles. “You look really pretty in it.” You pretend to be focused on the photos, but your heart’s beating a little faster now, and it’s not because of the flashing lights.

yourinstagram

Liked by, sleepyseishiro, officialraichi, ChigiriH, and 4,107,286 others

yourinstagram boy be in my dm’s say I’m prettyyy💕Thanks sleepyseishiro for taking the pics🫦

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sleepyseishiro I’m the one in her dm’s✋🏻

user258 👀👀👀

User501 🥀she🥀got🥀you🥀blushin🥀twin🥀awh🥀hell🥀nah🥀twin🥀you🥀gotta🥀lock🥀up🥀twin🥀this🥀ain🥀even🥀you🥀twin🥀on🥀foemen🥀grave🥀bruh🥀

clutchyoichi YAWL NOT TO BE MESSY OR ANYTHING BUT THEY WALKED OUT THE ARCADE AND DIDN’T COME BACK 👀🤷🏻

yourinstagram CHAT I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE TALKING ABOUT 🥀

megumonster UPDATE IT LOOKS LIKE THEY’RE COMING BACK!

yourinstagram “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT”💔

user038 I know a baddie when I see one

user174 REAL.

rinwrecks you could have taken the day off to see your family but noooo you’re going on dates and stuff…

yourinstagram If I pulled up on my mom right now she’s telling me to go back to where I came from

rinwrecks shii I would too if you were my daughter

user379 “get a load of these guys” I’M TRYING

yourinstagram 😛

reoofficial

Liked by, yourinstagram, clutchyoichi, rinwrecks, and 3,115,936 others

reoofficial 284+ pictures of nagi and Isagi in my camera roll after I left my phone unattended for 5 minutes

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clutchyoichi you’re saying it like we committed a crime…

reoofficial you committed a crime on my camera roll.

megumonster me and reo: models, nagi and isagi: thieves, y/n: sleeping beauty, this post has RANGE

sleepyseishiro why didn’t you post the other pic of her I took on your phone

reoofficial because that was suspiciously good and i’m starting to think you care

sleepyseishiro ew

yourinstagram you’re all getting sued

megumonster sue Reo and Nagi they have money to give me and Isagi don’t 🤷🏻

reoofficial HEY BITCH WHAT?!

user841 Wait why does nagi look like a boyfriend in slide 2???

yourinstagram don’t tell anyone but nagi divorced Reo after a game of uno then married Isagi after he scored a random goal 🙊

officialraichi REAL. I was there.

clutchyoichi STOWP SPREADING FALSE INFORMATION

user101 Not Reo casually soft-launching Y/N in the last slide??

reoofficial soft-launch?? she’s the whole press release.

user009 nagi in these comments..

sleepyseishiro don’t read too much into it

megumonster he likes her

clutchyoichi he definitely likes her

sleepyseishiro stop

sleepyseishiro

Liked by, kunigami_rensuke, Dailysoccer, rinwrecks, and 7,260,147 others

sleepyseishiro “let me blow ya mind”

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yourinstagram didn’t even ask for photo approval smh

sleepyseishiro u looked good. ur welcome.

megumonster boyfriend behavior

reoofficial this is better than any PR post you’ve made tbh

user284 Y/n holding that bear like it’s her whole world… I’m SOBBING

user543 we are witnessing peak soft-launch from nagi seiishiro

User505 is this canon now??? is this what falling in love looks like???

clutchyoichi he’s been fallen

sleepyseishiro stop commenting i’ll delete it

user707 yeah that’s your man, Y/n.

yourinstagram i plead the fifth

kunigami_rensuke you brought her a bear???

sleepyseishiro it was easy to win.

clutchyoichi yeah but you gave it to her, he tucked it in her arms and everything. i almost cried.

reoofficial did she take that last pic?? bc no offense you look good and i don’t like it

sleepyseishiro she did.

reoofficial rude.

yourinstagram wait are you saying i have an eye

reoofficial perhaps

ChigiriH arcade. soft launch. him posting???

megumonster WHO IS HE??

clutchyoichi Love changes a man🤷🏻

sleepyseishiro I will deactivate

yourinstagram this is what happens when i take one cute pic and win one bear

sleepyseishiro 🤷🏻🥀

-

“This has been my favorite day.” Nagi says as the two of you stepped out of the arcade, the buzz of neon still lingering behind you. The air outside was cool, brushing over your skin as you hugged the oversized stuffed bear he won you, your arms full and your head spinning just a little from all the lights and noise.

“That bear’s kinda big,” Nagi said, watching you wobble a bit under its weight. “Jealous?” you joked, peeking at him from over the plush. He tilted his head, half-lidded eyes scanning you. “Yeah. You’ve been holding it all night.” Before you could laugh or say anything clever back, he leaned in, slow and deliberate, and kissed you. The kind of kiss that wasn’t rushed but made your whole brain short-circuit.

Your eyes widened slightly when he pulled back.

You blinked, heart beating way too fast. Nagi raised a brow, lips still tilted in a lazy smirk. “Yeah. You didn’t like it?” “I wasn’t expecting it! You can’t just do that out of nowhere!” “You kissed my bear earlier,” he mumbled. “Didn’t think it’d be that different.”

You stared at him in disbelief before finally laughing, hiding your face in the bear for a second to breathe. “Oh my god. You’re ridiculous.” He nudged your side gently. “So… was it okay?” You peeked at him from behind the plush. “It was okay.”

He smiled a little, the kind of rare smile that made your knees go weak. “Cool.” You both stood there in silence for a moment, until you added, “Just… give a girl a warning next time, Sei.” “No fun in that,” he said.

-

Dailysoccer

Liked by, user707, TheShadeRoom, officialraichi, and 6,284,103 others

Dailysoccer SPOTTED: Blue Lock’s own Nagi Seiishiro locking lips with someone very familiar… PR Manager Y/N L/N?? Sources say this was taken recently at the arcade, and from the look of it, this isn’t just a game off the field.

Swipe for the blurry-but-definitely-them kiss caught outside.

#BlueLock #Nagi #YNSighting #WholesomeOrScandalous

View all 2,492,568 comments

yourinstagram WHAT YOU OVER HERE BEING MESSY FOR 🥀

user000 nepotism is CRAZY these days

yourinstagram ima hold your hand when I say this…my mom has 100 dollars to her name and she works at a doctors office…she’s unknown to the world… Nepotism where😟

reoofficial y’all need to get a hobby

user584 they are the hobby now

yourinstagram I blinked and suddenly I’m trending

sleepyseishiro they’re just jealous

megumonster of what? the kiss or the bear?

clutchyoichi Most likely both

user225 he deserves someone who actually understands soccer not some PR wannabe

yourinstagram Ahh you got me there but who’s better? You? Don’t my me laugh.

user942 girlie’s clout-chasing and it’s obvious. Nagi wake up.

user707 not to burst your bubble or wtv but Y/n been had a platform before bllk💀

user063 nah bc she’s ruining the team dynamic and y’all just letting it happen??

user543 “she’s ruining the team” meanwhile they’re playing better than ever and the fan base has grown lol ok

user050 their couple name better be something iconic cause i’m invested now

Fun Fact:

1. Y/n’s kiss panic was real. She almost said “thank you” after.

2. Bachira tried to sneak a churro into the arcade and got tackled by a security bot. Reo pretended not to know him.

3. Nagi changed his lock screen after tonight. But only Reo knows what it is.

4. Ego hasn’t said a single word about the post. Which somehow makes it worse.

5. Y/n accidentally liked the post while doom-scrolling through the comments AGAIN at 2 a.m.

Taglist 🏷️: @inojinieeee @amterasuu

[quibble-auk]

@thebrokenmechanicalpencil

Haha part four.

I gave up. This entire thing is sketchy tbh. I’m praying it makes sense. I tried to add Comet to it but then I don’t think I’d get Sunrazor genuine spazzing out. Cause this happens a lot closer to her enviable death yk? Things are just progressively getting worse for her.

And seeing the guy who helped traumatize you and then immediately dipped has an effect on you. The last time she saw him she was being torn apart so…. Yeah…

—

By all means the landing should have hurt.

The drop down into the cavern was further than Dropmix had anticipated. He tucked himself into a roll the moment he hit the ground, trying to keep the strain from his limbs. It didn’t stop the way his armor and joints groaned as he pushed himself into a crouch. Battle programs numbed any pain he should have felt from the rough landing, allowing him to focus on more important matters.

Like Jeopardy.

The gladiator didn’t bother to look up and see if Cometeater would follow him down. He didn’t care what the green mech did at this point. He had led him to Jeopardy and that was all that he needed from Comet. It was all that mattered. Dropmix didn’t need his help, he would be able to handle this himself, and it was best if the smaller mech didn’t get in his way.

Dropmix focused on trying to get his vision to adjust to the darkness, slowly shifting into a standing position, though he remained slightly hunched over. It was moments like these that he couldn’t help but miss having his other eye—he didn’t need it, but his depth perception always became worse in the low lighting. Thankfully he didn’t really need to have night vision to lock onto his target. A growl immediately rattled his chest.

Not too far from the place he stood there were blinding lights. Searchlights mounted on a mech. A behemoth stood over Jeopardy. They crouched over the young medic, their clawed hands stained in fresh energon. Dropmix hardly even registered how familiar the frame was or the blinding flood lights that washed over him as they turned to look at him.

He didn’t give a damn who it was—Autobot or Decepticon. They had what was his.

They hurt what belonged to him.

Jeopardy looked up from where he was being pressed into the ground, grime and energon coating his usually pristine frame. His bright blue eyes went wide as his attention shifted to Dropmix. He made a small broken noise when he saw the dark mech, expression full of disbelief as his breath hitched. Jeopardy’s voice was timid and shaky, “Dropmix?”

The beast that sat over him visibly recoiled at the name, their grip on the medic tightening.

Dropmix growled as he stalked forward, battle programs immediately jumping to identify any weaknesses in his opponent. They were big and heavily armored. Any attempt at dealing blunt damage would be in vain and the small pistol he carried would struggle to deal any meaningful damage. But the bulk would make them slower and not as agile. If he managed to get their legs they would easily lose balance. The joints were well covered, though there were still gaps large enough that Dropmix could fit his claws—

He stumbled in his approach, the gladiator had been too caught up with sizing his opponent up to notice the small pile of debris at his feet. He swiftly regained his balance, gaze still not leaving his target. Programs kept him from feeling anything but that didn’t stop him from numb discomfort that coursed through his frame at the jerky movement. Warnings flashed in his HUD but the active battle programs quickly dismissed them for him. He knew what they were about anyway, his internal temperature had yet to decrease upon entering the cool cavern.

Dropmix needed to focus.

He didn’t have claws, so he’d need to improvise. Maybe he could… He didn’t let himself finish the thought, eye catching movement. The titan frantically stood, pulling a hulking gun from their back as they moved. They carried Jeopardy in their open hand and the medic cried out as he was yanked from the ground. The larger mech quickly pressed the barrel of the gun to Jeopardy’s quivering frame as they stumbled backwards in an attempt to distance themselves from Dropmix.

The gladiator froze, sucking in another breath. For a brief moment he could have sworn it was Theremin in their arms instead of Jeopardy.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill him!” The mech shouted, almost in a panic. Any commanding tone the booming voice usually carried was swamped down by fear. Their playing flared in warning, vents hissing and engine idling in a growl. What would have been an intimidating display was destroyed by their clear hesitation.

Their blue eyes flashed to red occasionally.

Which was odd.

Optics weren’t designed to change colors like that, not under normal settings at least. Yet the mech’s spasmed between red and blue, occasionally slipping into a piercing white. Dropmix blinked, breathing heavily as he stared the other down. It took a moment but in the haze of screeching battle programs he was finally able to recognize her. He knew who that was.

It was Sunrazor.

If Dropmix wasn’t as pissed off he may have smiled. He could work with this, it had been some time since he had seen Sunrazor but she clearly remembered him. The gladiator eyed her cautiously, jaw clenching tightly as he managed to rear in his anger. It was just like Noxious, he needed to hold himself back if he wanted to make her suffer. If he wanted to make sure that Jeopardy wouldn’t get hurt anymore than he already was. But he would still win.

The dark mech straightened slightly, still not risking another step forward. His frame shivered slightly as he struggled to restrain himself. He forced his tone to be even, focusing on Sunrazor instead of Jeopardy for the moment, “Put the gun down.”

Ideally, Torrent had left some of the slave coding active, though it was unlikely. But it was still worth a shot, unless the mech had gone out of his way to take Dropmix off of her list of “masters” she should be obedient.

The golden mech flinched back, eyes flicking frantically. Her grip on the gun and Jeopardy tightened. Her claws digging into his side. The medic cried out weakly, wide eyes still fixated on Dropmix’s form.

Sunrazor didn’t move for a moment. Her eyes flicked between colors before flashing a bright white, matching her floodlights. Her powerful engine growled, plating flaring in warning and an attempt to expel some of the heat that was building in her stressed frame. Dropmix could see the slight warping in the air that surrounded her.

Surprisingly, she smiled, mouth twisting upwards as she bore her fangs. Sunrazor lowered her gun as laughter bubbled from her throat, unhinged and mad sounding—Dropmix couldn’t help but cringe at the sound. She took a few more steps back, thrown off balance by her sudden outburst. Her plates settled slightly as her tense form relaxed. The guardian shook her head as the laughing settled into a dark chuckle.

“You can’t tell me what to do!” Sunrazor loudly proclaimed, snickering as she looked over Dropmix with crazed white eyes. Her voice quieted for a moment “No… no you can’t. You can’t. I don’t have to listen. Not to you…”

She trailed off, muttering under her breath as she looked down at the gun she held for a brief moment. Her smile fading before it returned as she lifted her head to look at Dropmix. The Decepticon laughed more, the maddening sound echoing around the empty space. Her voice got louder and more confident again. “You're not real! I just made you up!”

The golden mech nodded to herself as she giggled, the sound getting caught in her vents, “Just another memory or some slag. Not real at all. You’ve been gone for so long! Why the hell would you show up now?”

Sunrazor shook her head, looking at Jeopardy as her platting rattled with each harsh breath she took. Her white eyes alight with something almost playful as she tried to contain her laughing fit, fingers twitching, “I must seem crazy to you, talking to myself.”

Jeopardy managed to look up at her with wide eyes, no sound left him as he stared at the spiraling mech who currently held him. The gun was still loosely pressed against him, though it had shifted from its original position on his head. The medic nervously glanced at Dropmix before looking back up at Sunrazor.

Dropmix’s eye narrowed, his systems working in overdrive to process the madness unfolding before him. Sunrazor’s words didn’t make sense—made him up? What the frag was she talking about? Jeopardy had addressed him just a few minutes ago. Her aggressive programming shouldn’t let her dismiss a threat so quickly. There was something beneath her erratic behavior that unsettled him, it took a moment before it clicked.

This was the instability that Torrent had warned them about.

Sunrazor had seen Valkyrie and the battle with her very own processor had long since begun. Dropmix just had never been able to see it in person before, not until now. The guardian had been lucky to survive this long with conflicting programs—as lucky as she could be, it was far from a painless process. But, she was apparently having hallucinations often enough that she had dismissed him as one.

Which meant he had less control than he originally thought. She wasn’t just malfunctioning. No, she was lost. Genuinely spiraling and confused. Dropmix was dealing with something broken beyond repair, and that only made her more unpredictable.

Dropmix had fought plenty of unstable mechs before. Some were glitched beyond recognition. Some were too far gone to process anything beyond violence. He knew how to handle those—predictable in their destruction, driven by instinct or command lines that couldn’t be rewritten.

But Sunrazor was different.

Her eyes still occasionally spasmed between colors—always landing on that stark white. She was present, though. Aware. Not entirely lost to her programming, just caught in some limbo between control and collapse. A bomb waiting to go off at the slightest wrong move. Unfortunately for Dropmix, if he happened to make a fatal error in his approach Jeopardy would be the one punished.

The gladiator adjusted his stance, trying to steady his vents, ignoring another ping of warnings. His battle programs wanted him to charge. Tear through her plating, rip her apart, take Jeopardy back. But he couldn’t risk setting her off. Not when she was already teetering on the edge of whatever abyss she was staring into. So, he sat and waited, frame itching and aching for action.

Sunrazor exhaled sharply, a dry, staticky sound. Her venting system must have been failing under the strain of overheating. Her laughter finally ceased as her smile fell to a more blank expression, her gaze shifting back to Dropmix, head tilting slightly as she examined him. She muttered to herself, too quiet for the dark mech to hear.

He had to do something, hesitantly he shifted his posture. His hands twitched. Dropmix had no idea if this gamble would work, but it was the only edge he had. Sunrazor’s mind was eating itself alive. If she genuinely thought he wasn’t real, then she might hesitate just long enough to give him an opening. “If I’m not real then you can lower your gun. There’s no reason to hold it to the medic.”

There was a brief pause.

“Who?” She blinked, looking around until she followed the barrel of the gun down to Jeopardy, who she was still holding up. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. She remained still and quiet for a moment, eventually slowly lowering her gun and speaking softly, “I was gonna bring you to the base, right? Not kill you?”

Dropmix used the long pause to slowly creep closer, each movement slow and calculated. He used her confusion and shifted focus to his advantage. If he got close enough then he could finally disarm her and let his programs take over again. The idea seemed to satisfy them at the moment, the promise that he would still punish the guardian was enough.

Jeopardy stared up at her, wincing as her grip tightened again, a small whine escaping him. He nodded hesitantly, sucking in a shaky breath. His voice was quiet and broken, “Ye-Yeah… Not kill me.”

Sunrazor looked back at Dropmix and he froze. She watched at him carefully, skeptically almost. But slowly her attention drifted back to Jeopardy, her gaze shifting to the medic. Her eyes flashed to red and she growled, plates flaring as her engine roared back to life. Her grip shifted before it tightened, claws embedding deep into Jeopardy’s side and chest. The plating crumpled under the force and more energon pooled down the medic’s white form.

The medic screamed, the noise fizzling to static as his struggling slowed.

Dropmix felt his spark lurch, vents failing as his mind descended into a haze. He surged forward, instincts demanding action, but his own restraint twisted like a blade in his gut. The gladiator came to a stumbling halt when Sunrazor’s glare turned to him. Her finger on the trigger twitched. He couldn't move—not yet. He couldn't risk it.

His vents whined softly, Dropmix couldn’t hear his fans blasting anymore. Every single battle program was shrieking at him to move, to kill, to reclaim—but he held himself still. Just barely. His frame tensed and twitched as he was forced to watch. If he moved he would lose Jeopardy, but if he didn’t act soon then it all would have been for nothing.

He couldn’t afford that.

The gladiator forced himself to suck in a breath, the warnings refused to be dismissed so he just ignored them. He needed to get her talking, get her stuck in the loop she was spinning herself into. He took another cautious step forward. He managed to make his voice calm, though there was an edge to it as he strained to keep himself under control, “You were going to take him back. Not kill him.”

Sunrazor’s eyes flashed, lips peeling back from sharpened teeth. Her frame groaned, the paint covering the plating over her core starting to blister and peel back. Her breath puffed, the hot air forming a small cloud against the coolness of the cavern. The guardian’s plating trembled slightly.

"You’re—” Her breath stuttered. “You’re not real.”

“That’s right. I’m not real,” Dropmix nodded sternly, his voice firm as he shifted ever so slightly closer. “So put him down, Sunrazor. Before you make a mistake.”

The Decepticon’s grip slackened slightly, eyes flaring between colors until fiery red bore into Dropmix’s frame. She bore her teeth angrily as she seethed, “I don't make mistakes. I don’t need to be fixed.”

Her entire frame locked up at the word, breath hitching. Sunrazor’s grip tightened again, Jeopardy’s scream wrenched through the cavern, fizzing into garbled static as Sunrazor’s claws dug deeper. Dropmix flinched again, a low growl escaping him. His spark clenched, he hadn’t even been the one to make a mistake.

Sunrazor had set herself off.

“You think I’m glitched!” Her voice roared angrily, “You think I’m broken!”

Dropmix didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. She saw the answer in his silence.

For a moment, Sunrazor looked like she wanted to rip her own plating off. Her claws twitched, her entire form shuddering like she was barely holding herself together. She shook her head muttering to herself. The air around her still warped with heat, and her engine roared again, but there was something frantic about it now.

Then, in a movement so fast it sent Dropmix’s systems screaming in warning she hurled Jeopardy to the floor.

The medic hardly had time before he hit the ground hard. A sickening crunch echoed through the cavern as his already battered frame crumpled against the cold floor. His body skidded across the rough ground before coming to a limp stop. His vents wheezed, the sound fizzling into static before cutting off entirely.

Everything stood still.

Dropmix could have sworn he was back in The Pits staring at the limp form of Theremin. It crashed over him all over again, he wasn’t enough. He had failed Theremin and now he had failed Jeopardy too. Dropmix’s vents choked. The screech of his battle programs reached a deafening pitch, a piercing wail demanding action. Every inch of his plating bristled as the weight of the moment crushed down on him but he couldn’t will himself to move.

Jeopardy didn’t move.

His body lay sprawled where Sunrazor had thrown him, energon pooling beneath his white frame, staining it in deep violet streaks. His eyes were still dim, unfocused and flickering softly. Jeopardy was expressionless and blank. Dropmix couldn’t tell if he was conscious—if he was alive.

It was give up then, he bitterly concluded as he stared at the motionless medic. That's what would happen if he lost Jeopardy. Dropmix couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe—but maybe that was just his system finally giving way to the heat. Dropmix couldn’t even bring himself to rush over to check vitals because maybe if he waited long enough he would wake up. He just uselessly stared at Jeopardy, praying to whatever higher power that the white mech would move.

His fingers twitched.

It was all Dropmix needed.

The air cracked with the sound of his engines surging to life as he lunged.

Sunrazor barely had time to register the movement before Dropmix slammed into her with all the force of a railgun shell. The impact sent them both crashing into the cavern wall, rock and dust exploding around them. The golden mech snarled, caught off guard, dropping her gun as she struggled to regain composure. Her eyes flaring white.

Dropmix didn’t give her a chance to recover. He couldn’t.

His claws—his hands, he didn’t have claws, not anymore—latched onto the plating of her midsection. He shoved his blunt fingers into a small gap that had already started to form from where her armor had dented and been warped out of place. His hand burned, the heat following off of the other made his vision glitch out for just a moment. Sunrazor’s claws sank into his back, into the thick shell like armor that covered it.

The gladiator didn’t react, all that mattered was tearing her apart before she had the chance to touch Jeopardy again. He focused on where he had forced his hand under her armor. With a practiced ease he twisted his wrist, forcing the plating to pop off. The sound satisfying something deep inside him.

The guardian roared, searchlights flashing as she thrashed angrily, tearing off chunks of armor. Dropmix’s fingers dug deeper into the exposed plating, twisting, forcing it wider, pushing past layers of warped metal until he felt the subtle give of something vital beneath.

Sunrazor screamed.

Dropmix was back in The Pits again. Tearing another opponent apart for the sake of wounded pride. There was no music to restrain him, no need to contain himself. The only thought running through his mind was how to make the other mech suffer.

Her body jerked, engine stuttering as she spasmed against him. Her vents blasted scalding heat into his face, but he didn’t let go. He would not let go. Not even when her claws finally sank into his back, tearing through the soft plating. Dropmix drove his hand deeper, tearing at anything he managed to get a hold of. He expected her to scream again. She didn’t.

She started laughing. A choked, rasping, painful. A dry, broken noise full of something Dropmix didn’t have a name for.

“You,” she hissed, voice fractured at the edges, like something breaking apart mid-sentence. “You think you can fix me, Dropmix? Think you can kill me before they do?”

Her vents hitched, body trembling under his grip, but her gaze found his, locked onto him, burning—something deeper than hatred, more primal than fear. She whispered, too soft, too calm, “You can try.”

Dropmix should have finished her. Should have driven his fist deeper, torn out whatever he could reach, ended the fight before she had the chance to retaliate. But he hadn’t acted fast enough.

Her heel slammed into the side of his knee joint, twisting against the structure with pinpoint force. Dropmix snarled as his balance broke. His knee buckled, plating grinding against itself, collapsing into itself under the force. He recoiled, trying to regain balance, attempting to use her to stabilize himself. But it left an opening.

In that fraction of a second Sunrazor moved. She wrenched one clawed hand from his back and drove it forward. She aimed for his face. The force sent him staggering, his helm whipping to the side as he felt metal crack. His HUD flared in protest, error messages screaming across his vision as his depth perception collapsed further.

Sunrazor wasted no time. The moment she had space she lunged. Her shoulder slammed into his chest, raw strength sending him hurtling backward. Dropmix hit the ground hard, rolling, plating scraping against the jagged cavern floor. He grunted, vents stuttering as his systems scrambled to reorient himself. His knee ached from the direct hit, his head swam from the strike, but he forced himself upright, instinct demanding he move, that he retaliate.

The golden mech didn’t move from where she stood, eyes flickering between colors. She heaved ragged, uneven breaths, vents sputtering under the strain of her overheated frame. Energon seeped down her front, her clawed hand pressed against the gaping wound Dropmix had left, it did little to stop the bleeding.

“…You're not supposed to be here,” she whispered, the words carrying something almost… uncertain. “You're not—”

She cut herself off, plating rattling as her hands twitched, her eyes cycling through colors again. Eventually they landed on a radiant blue. Her eyes widened and she took a few stumbling steps backwards, she was afraid. Sunrazor shook her head, tone dropping, “What do you want from me?”

Dropmix’s gaze flickered toward Jeopardy’s unmoving form. His plating prickled, his rage clawing back up his throat. He wanted to rip her apart, wanted to see her spark gutter out in his hands for what she had done. But with each second he spent trying to make her pay Jeopardy could be drifting closer to death. The gladiator couldn’t risk that. He needed to prioritize the safety of Jeopardy over his own pride. He tensed, body flinching as he narrowed his eye.

He swallowed down his fury, forcing his frame to still even as his plating twitched with the need to finish what he had started. His battle programs screamed at him, demanding retaliation, demanding he strike while she was weak, but he pushed the urge down. Dropmix forced himself to straighten despite his aching knee and back, despite the throbbing in his helm and the insistent heat that made it difficult to focus. His vents hissed as he took a single step forward, tone sharper than steel. “I want you to run.”

Sunrazor flinched at the demand, as though it was a foreign concept to her. Her expression twisted into something unreadable, her claws twitching at her sides. He could see the battle waging within her, the conflict tearing at her from the inside. She was unraveling, losing control of whatever programming was holding her together.

Good.

The guardian took another stumbling step backward, vents wheezing under the strain of her failing systems. Her eyes, still flickering erratically, locked onto Dropmix with something between rage, confusion, and fear. The shift in her stance was almost imperceptible, a twitch of her plating, the slight dip of her frame, but Dropmix recognized it for what it was—hesitation.

He had her.

She might not have realized it yet, but she was already retreating. His demand had cut through whatever tangled mess was gnawing at her mind. He saw it in the way her fingers clenched and unclenched, the way her plating bristled with uncertainty.

“I said run, Sunrazor,” Dropmix repeated, his voice dangerously low, the edge of a growl curling into his words. He took another step forward, slow and deliberate. He eyes Jeopardy, who had still not moved from where he lay still. Dropmix prayed he wasn’t too late already. He glowered at the Decepticon when she still didn’t move.

Her eyes spasmed again, flickering between red and white before settling on a pale, piercing blue. A low, guttural sound rumbled from her throat, almost like a whine. She shook her head sharply, plating shuddering with the movement, like she was trying to shake something loose. "No—no, I don't have to—I'm not—" she stammered, voice cracking.

She sounded lost.

But Dropmix didn’t care. He wasn’t here to save her.

The gladiator took another step forward, closer to Sunrazor and Jeopardy alike. He shuddered as he forced himself to turn the music back on in his internal comms. Beating his battle programs into submission and staggering a bit when a tidal wave of pain washed over him. The programs wouldn’t buffer it for him anymore, he would just need to deal with it.

Sunrazor didn’t seem to notice the dark mech falter, she simply took a few more steps back, trying to keep the distance between them. Dropmix growled low, he already had her cornered, he had already won. She just refused to admit it. He stalked closer, “Get out of here.”

[i-wanna-show-you-off]

I finally got caught up on disventure camp and oh my goodness all stars is crazy

spoilers btw

First of all, Emily being introduced as a character who tries to instigate fights and cause drama between contestants and then ??? helping people with their issues?? like I did NOT expect that genuine friendship she had with Trevor towards the end there. I’ll miss you girl please keep in touch with that poor man

Alec holy shit. The mixed feelings I have towards this guy are crazy. He annoys me SO BAD with some things (giving horrible advice that somehow always circles back to his ex wife, the way he clearly mistreated his ex wife and son but acted surprised when his wife divorced him, just his general lack of empathy and understanding towards the people around him) but god damn it I have had a few giggles from his lines. I’m so so glad he is not siding with Yul, and the fact he even messes with him during challenges and tries to make him the butt of the joke all the time is sadly very funny to me.

Fiore!!!! I gotta be honest I love fiore when she’s not around Alec (granted, I’m a little biased) because it kind of makes you realize that she is literally just six years old. She really seemed like this master manipulator around Alec, but the moment she’s by herself she starts worrying about getting voted out and even asking other people to help her. (Her knowing her teammates were going to vote her out the first chance she got, resulting in her desperately trying to get either duo on her team to side with her.) Obviously I could be misinterpreting her character but you gotta remember she is just a kid. You can’t expect a six year old to be a genius all the time.

Ally’s character arc hitting a little too close to home, even down to her friend (..boyfriend? I genuinely don’t remember if they were dating or not) thinking she cares what people think more than she cares about him. Like yes fearing what people think of you is a real relationship killer and I’m really glad the writers didn’t try to portray Ally as a bad person for feeling that way. (At least I don’t feel like they did, but maybe it feels that way to other people)

I could talk about Grett and Yul but I really don’t think I have anything new to add to the conversation. I’m with the “kill him” crowd I’ve been rooting for Grett since literally day one

[strohller27]

.

[lonelycelsadpilled]

When you have absolutely zero ideas for college you feel how your family thinks less of you. Every single thing I have somebody ask “why don’t you try college for that?” As if that makes any sense. As if I could do that. What do I know about fashion design? About making clothes? About English and teaching? About art? About architecture and design? I like listening to music but I have no idea how to make it myself. My family sees me as lazy and maybe I am, it’s a force of habit, I guess, but I have absolutely zero passion in my life and I have zero drive.

I see family I haven’t seen for a thing and they ask me”are you still doing your art? I hope so” I was a child last time you knew about that. Maybe I do art sometimes. Do I like it? Kind of. Sometimes. Is that any reason to go to college with people who have adored it since they could hold a pen, who have practiced and know the techniques better than me? It’s ridiculous, I’d be made a fool out of. People see me as this unaccomplished person and it’s true, but I didn’t think I’d even make it to sixteen, never mind now. As a kid I thought it was so stupid to get into something like the arts or sports because to make it a career you had to excel. It’s different than just being another cog in the machine. You have to get lucky, go at it for years in hopes you stand out amongst the competition. Otherwise, you’re just another small, nameless person. So what am I meant to do? I’m forever just going to be a nobody and my family hates me for it.