#I just threw stuff at the wall to see if anything would stick

[bet-on-me-13]

So Starfire and Blackfire would register as either very slowly emerging Halfa's, or very ecto-contaminated Liminals? That's great, and opens up a lot of possible scenarios...

Star is Liminal enough to adopt Danny safely after a Regression AU

Star is the only one who can see Danny anymore after his powers glitches and he got stuck invisible/constantly phasing out of Reality. He is alone and she is the only one who can see him.

Star is targeted by the GIW

Star knows all of this and just so happens to forget to mention that her Powers come from another Dimension

A Comedic scenario where Raven tries a detection spell for the first time in a while and senses the presence of an extremely powerful Realms Being, but doesn't realize that it's Star

Alternatively: Raven does realize that the reading is coming from Star, but thinks Star has been possessed

Star dies on a mission and ends up coming back as a Halfa

An intruder breaks into the Tower and tackles Starfire in a hug. It's Ellie, who finally managed to find her new Halfa sister a few weeks after discovering she existed

Blackfire knows everything but Starfire doesn't, so when Star is hurt on a mission and Blackfire is the only one who knows how to heal her, they are forced to negotiate

Starfire is kidnapped by Trigon. Originally they think it's as a Hostage for Raven, but in reality he took her as a Bride Gift for the new Ghost King. He thought The King would appreciate a wife the same species as him. He didn't.

Jazz is reincarnated as Starfire, the reason she survived the "Halfa" experiment is because her Soul was already so Liminal that no amount of ectoplasm could change it enough to matter.

Starfire died during the Experiments, but managed to make a Deal with an Extra Dimensional Being (Danny? Clockwork? Pariah?) to come back to life as a Halfa

If we use Pariah from the last one, that would mean Pariah basically Ghost Adopting her. Star and Raven bond over their "Evil Dimension Conquering God-King" Dad Trauma.

I'm done for now but I may actually make some of these into full on prompts/drabbles, they were fun to make

Prompt 133

Just thought of something. Halfas, are half ghost. Like that’s what everyone refers to them as. But ghosts never say half ghost and half human. Which? Implies, at least with the fact that Danny was in fact recognized as a halfa- that at some point there has been other halfas. And not all of them were half human. 

The realms are infinite after all! Who's to say there isn’t an alien halfa or a demon halfa or a fae halfa or all sorts of things. 

[coff-in]

I RAISE YOU

Andrew and Ashley with younger sister who is EXACTLY as bad as them. Possibly worse. But she hides it so well that it's reallllly hard to find out until the Burial (or Decay) ending. She's clingy and naive! But she just happens to get along well with boys, and Andrew just happens to catch them asking her out a lot. She's shy and likes to stick with Ashley, but it just so happens that girls are always asking to be friends with her, and it would be mean to say no, right? When she can't sleep at night and wants to sleep with Ashley and Andrew, she just so happens to wear really revealing clothes. Whatever, they're siblings, who cares? And if Andrew's hand is too high up her thighs, or Ashley's hand is over her breast, well, she's already fast asleep. She wouldn't know anything about that. In essence! Younger sister reader who is well aware of her older siblings' inclinations towards her and drives them insane with it while acting like a cute little angel (she is a tease). I think they'd prob catch on or at least suspect her, but it only becomes really apparent during Burial when she's *extremely* into getting down and dirty with her siblings (Ashley and Andrew are not emerging without bruises and bites and scratches).

If we're extending this to Decay ending though I think it would also be interesting is a yandere who secretly wanted to keep one of her siblings to herself. Just toxic food for thought ykyk.

notes from coff-in: i don't know if i could elaborate on this wonderful idea even more because this is SO GOOD! (proceeds to elaborate on it more) i love you, 'nonnie.

[fem] reader-insert, [reader] is about 1 year younger than ashley, incest, NSFW, murder and suicide

baby sis [reader] teasing her siblings once they leave the quarantined apartments by offering to write her number on the wall near the restaurant (she doesn't even have a phone :p), pushing the two motel beds together so they could have "one big freedom sleepover" and she's like in a oversized night shirt and some short sleep shorts (or maybe not even wearing any bottoms to bed). maybe she's a clingy sleeper and wraps her arms and thighs around whichever sibling that falls into her nightly grasp. she's squeezing and nuzzling and cuddling them while they take it as an opportunity to feel her up. andrew def is an ass person in my head (don't get me wrong, he loves breasts and thighs too) and he hugs baby sis [reader], letting her hands rest on her ass and giving it a couple of squeezes. leaving her bras or underwear out in the open like ashley does and points it out when asked about it ("if leyley can do it then why can't i do it too?").

baby sis [reader]'s social life was a tool for her to use so she could get the attention of her siblings. telling andrew about the boys who ask her out and asking him if any of them would be right for her ("but of course there's no other man better than you, big bro!") and going to ashley after hanging out with her friends and complaining about how tiring they can be ("augh! they just don't get me like you do, leyley").

baby sis [reader] and julia being friends with each other but they're both using each other in some way. julia uses [reader] and ashley to get closer to andrew and once he and julia start dating, [reader] pretends to be a person to vent to about her relationship. while julia does talk about all the romantic things she does with andrew it's mostly her telling [reader] about ashley and all the death threats she has sent ("he bought me a lovely bouquet of tulips... and then ashley threw them away when i wasn't looking..." "a flower bouquet? how romantic!")

i can see baby sis [reader] leaving poems and love notes and little cute drawings of andrew, ashley and her together with hearts and stuff and she plays them off as either not being hers ("may julia left them for you, andy") or just cute little sister stuff ("the hearts are there to show that i love you guys")

she engages in a lot of physical affection with them both in order to touch and tease them while playing it off as her sisterly love. if she's shorter than them both she'd rest her face on ashley's chest a lot. they're just so comfy!! she'd hold andrew's hand a lot and tell him that brings her comfort and makes her feel safe,,, and he wouldn't want her to feel unsafe and scared, would he?

i think it's important that (from a story perspective i guess) andrew still watches over the parents when they prepare to sacrifice them, but ashley could also leave baby sis [reader] with him too (burial route). mrs graves tells them that she could fix all of this, they just need to ditch ashley and maybe instead of andrew it would be [reader] who threatens her ("i don't really care for how you talk about my big sister ashley like that, so i suggest you quit it :)")

during the vision, andrew and ashley are bitten and scratched up like a dog toy and [reader] is there leaning on ashley's chest, smiling and satisfied "let me know when you guys are ready for another round!"

andrew's blushing because he's embarrassed that he got caught while baby sis [reader] is blushing because it was all way more intense and wonderful than what she thought it would be. "we're never going to be like that, right?" and [reader] responds with a "well i certainly wouldn't mind :)"

a decay route with a yandere baby sis [reader] could have so many endings, you know? i think the game has three different variants/endings in the decay route: murder-suicide (ashley has a loaded gun and chooses not to shoot andrew), ashley's death (ashley has an empty gun), and then andrew's death (ashley has a loaded gun and chooses to shoot andrew). depending on possible earlier choices/actions, baby sis [reader] could either be chill with losing one of her siblings (their attention is less divided, right? more for her then!) or fucking lose it if she lost her favorite sibling to the other. gods, imagine a timeline where she lost both! her entire life revolved around her siblings and gaining their attention and love and if they're both dead in a murder-suicide then she'd probably follow them, too!

this is branching off from the request a bit (a lot) but in a murder-suicide timeline, baby sis [reader] tries to make a deal with ashley's demon/lord unknown to bring them both back to her! aaah!!

this is very long. i usually type my writing on a google doc to get it all organized but i've been thinking about this ever since i saw it this morning. thank you, thank you, thank you 'nonnie for this LOVELY AND WONDERFUL ASK!!! your idea and mind is just... grrr they're so great!!!

----

coff-in

[thicccshady]

This Is Why We Should Have Kept The Landline! ☎️

Eminem X Reader

✨️MasterList✨️

Content: cursing, fluff

The early morning light seeped into the room through the gaps in the blinds, casting a warm glow over the bed. Marshall stirred, stretched, then instinctively reached out for his phone on the nightstand. His hand fumbled around for a moment before he froze, groaning.

“Damn it,” he muttered, rubbing his eyes. “I forgot to plug in my phone last night.”

You blinked awake beside him, disoriented. “What time is it?”

“I don’t know,” he replied, sitting up. “Phone’s dead. What about yours?”

Groggy, you reached for your own phone, only to discover it was lifeless as well. “Shit. Dead, too,” you sighed. “We forgot to charge them.”

Marshall ran a hand over his face. “Great. Just great.” He glanced at the clock on the wall, his expression shifting to alarm. “Aw, fuck. I was supposed to be at the studio an hour ago.”

That got you fully awake. “An hour?” you repeated. “Marshall, why didn’t Dre call to check in?”

“He probably did,” Marshall snapped, his frustration mounting. “This is why we should have kept the landline!” You nodded in agreement while yawning.

Marshall scrambled out of bed, muttering curses under his breath as he dug through the laundry basket for a clean hoodie. Meanwhile, you swung into action.

“Go take a shower,” you told him, sliding out of bed. “I’ll get your stuff together and make you something to eat.”

He paused for a moment, clearly stressed, but nodded. “Thanks, Sweetheart.”

As he disappeared into the bathroom, you quickly got to work. First, you rummaged through the dresser, finding a clean pair of jeans and a black T-shirt for him. You placed them neatly on the bed. Before heading to the kitchen, you plugged both your phones in.

The house was quiet except for the sound of the shower running. You moved swiftly, grabbing eggs and bread from the fridge and setting up the coffee maker. Marshall was a creature of habit; his go-to breakfast was scrambled eggs and toast with a strong cup of coffee, so you figured sticking to the basics would be best.

As the eggs sizzled in the pan, you heard a series of loud thuds followed by a string of muffled curses from the bathroom. You winced but chose not to call out—he’d come to you if he needed anything. Instead, you focused on buttering the toast and pouring his coffee.

A few minutes later, Marshall emerged from the bedroom, his short damp hair sticking out in tuffs. He looked agitated, pulling on his T-shirt as he walked into the kitchen. “I can’t find my sneakers.” he sounded beyond grumpy, his tone edging on panic.

“They’re by the door,” you said, glancing behind you to check on him. “I put them there yesterday after you kicked them off.”

He gave a curt nod, visibly relieved, but you could tell his frustration hadn’t eased. His movements were hurried and jerky as he threw on his rest of his clothes and grabbed his bag.

From another room you heard "Fuck! Where are my keys!"

"In here with your wallet!" You said while plating his food.

By the time he made his way to the kitchen, his mood had deteriorated even further. He was muttering under his breath about traffic, deadlines, and how Dre was going to “chew his ass out.” You could see the tension radiating off him as he shoved his keys and wallet in his pocket while making a beeline for the door.

“Marshall,” you called, holding up a plate with his breakfast. “Food.”

He stopped, turning to look at you. His furrowed brow softened slightly as you handed him the paper plate, complete with perfectly scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and a cup of coffee to go.

“I know you’re stressed,” you said gently. “But you can’t go all day without eating. Just take a minute, okay?”

Marshall stared at the plate in his hands, his expression unreadable. Then, without a word, he set the plate down and pulled you into his arms.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice muffled against your shoulder. “I’m losing my mind over here, and you’re just… making me breakfast like it’s no big deal.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his damp hair (secretly fixing it). “That’s because I love you, even when you’re being an old grump.”

He smirked, pulled back just enough to look at you, his blue eyes filled with gratitude. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane, Y/N. I don’t say it enough, but I appreciate everything you do for me.”

Before you could respond, he kissed you—a slow, lingering kiss that made your heart flutter. When he finally pulled away, his frustration seemed to have melted, replaced by a quiet determination.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” he promised, grabbing his plate and coffee. “Thanks for having my back.” He placed a quick peck on your cheek and hurried out.

“Always,” you said, watching him walk out with a renewed sense of calm.

As the door closed behind him, you felt a sense of satisfaction. It had been a chaotic morning, but you knew Marshall would tackle the rest of his day with the same passion he put into everything—and you were proud to be able to help him when he needed it most.

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[lycheedr3ams]

Choke on It ~ (Part 2)

Fem!reader x hard!dom!konig

MDNI! NSFW!

Part 1 of this is my most popular fic on tumblr, so i thought i'd give it another part

TW: gun kink, mean konig, hard dom konig, gun kink, mask kink, rough sex, p in v sex, sucking on a gun, slight dacryphilia

(I'm not sure if a gun kink counts as dark content, so just be aware of this. Always use safe words and enthusiastic consent! Don't try this stuff at home.)

you and konig had both really enjoyed the gunplay thing you explored last time. but konig decided he wanted to take it up a notch. how far could he push you? what were your limits?

you had discussed with him about pushing your limits with gunplay, and that he shouldn't be scared to try something new without asking you. you knew he would never push things too far. you trusted him.

which is how you ended up how you are currently.

...

you were riding his cock while he was in his camos, black shirt, and his sniper hood. his hands were behind his head confidently as he admired your body bouncing on his hard length. his eyes devoured you as you whined and moaned, his cock just too good for you to be quiet. but you had gotten a noise complaint from the neighbors one night, when konig fucked you hard against the wall. you really did try to be quiet.

"how can i shut you up, liebling?" konig asked mockingly as you rode him like your life depended on it. "it was you who got us that noise complaint."

you couldn't say anything as you threw your head back in ecstasy, his cock hitting that spongy part of you that made you see stars. you felt him reach for something in his pocket before he grabbed your chin with his hand and forced you to look down at him.

"since i can't stuff your mouth with my cock right now, how about my glock?" he asked as he slowly brought the gun towards your face. the safety was on, of course, but there was a full cartridge of ammo in there. he pried your mouth open as he squeezed your chin.

"stick your tongue out," he murmured as his cock twitched inside you. you moaned as you followed his command, and he couldn't help the groan that escaped him when he saw your tonsils moving as you moaned.

"fuck, liebling," he murmured. "gonna stuff your mouth with my glock now, that'll make you behave."

konig slowly slid the cold, smooth metal of his handgun over your wet tongue and into your warm mouth. he didn't stop until the end of the gun touched the back of your mouth. you moaned around it and clenched on him. you began to move on his cock, too aroused to even think, before he shook his head and clicked his tongue.

"suck it," he commanded. "suck my gun just like you do my cock."

your eyes widened and you felt embarrassed. you couldn't imagine how stupid you would look, sucking the barrel of his gun like it was his own dick. tears sprang in your eyes as he pressed the gun farther against your tonsils.

"don't make me repeat myself," he warned. you closed your eyes, pretending like he couldn't see you if you did that. you wrapped your warm, soft lips around the cold metal of his gun as you slowly sucked on the barrel. konig groaned gutturally as he watched you. the barrel was shining with your spit whenever you reached the top and went down again.

he jerked his hips up into you, his way of telling you to get riding. you placed your hands on his stomach for leverage as you tried to focus on riding his cock and sucking his gun at the same time. you moaned so cutely as you bounced on his dick with his gun in your mouth.

"mein gott," konig whispered as he watched you. his cock twitched and seemed to grow even harder inside of you. "you look...so fucking good, sucking it like that while you ride me."

you mewled around the barrel as you picked up the pace, and konig was grateful that his sniper hood hid how red his face was with arousal. you were riding him for your pleasure, and for him, it wasn't enough. he needed to ravage you.

suddenly, the gun was removed from your mouth and you were flipped onto your stomach on the bed. konig wasted no time in spreading your ass apart and ramming himself into you as he pinned you down against the bed with his body and stretched your neck out so that he could put his gun back in your mouth.

you looked up over your head at konig as he looked down at you with your pretty lips wrapped around his gun. his cock pounded you over and over and over again. the difference between the cold metal in your mouth and his hot cock in your cunt. he groaned wildly in your ear before he thrusted all the way inside you and released in your pussy.

you panted against the metal of his gun, the silver of it fogging up from your warm breath. he blinked again, finally down from his high, and removed the gun from your mouth.

"are you okay, liebling? was that too much?"

you shook your head and smiled. "please, we need to do that again."

he kissed your forehead and rubbed your back softly. "anything for you, my liebling."

[justagirlfr]

I Look to You and I See Nothing

Noah Diaz x fem!reader (angst)

summary: Noah Diaz is a traitor!! But he’s doing it because he loves you.

a/n: I like this concept

—

"Tomorrow's a new day. We'll get the key and bring it back to who it belongs to. Everything will be okay." Noah says this all to you, one arm wrapped around your middle and hugging you close.

You're both resting under the covers of his bed. His room is small, littered with different mechanical pieces and electrical equipment. It's dark- there's no light except for the glow of the moon drifting through the window across from the door at the foot of the bed. You turn off your phone, reaching to your left to put it on Noah's desk.

Something tugs at you as you try to fall asleep cuddled next to him. Something off about what he said. You think about it again: "'We'll get the key and bring it back to who it belongs to.'" But didn't it belong to the Autobots? Weren't they the ones who deserved it? After all, they were your friends. They had saved you on countless occasions, especially Mirage, your favorite of them all.

So why didn't he just say that the two of you would get the key, and give it to Optimus or someone?

A feeling of nausea washed over you. Your stomach started to turn. Now that you think about it, Noah has been gone a lot lately. Not just because he needed to run errands or anything. I mean, even in Peru, you noticed him sneaking off to "use the bathroom" or to "get more firewood." But did it really take hours to do stuff like that?

When you had confronted him about it, he had just shrugged it off and told you to mind your own business. Maybe it was the way he always embraced you in the warmest of hugs, or gave you the most enchanting kisses when you saw each other again.

The more you analyzed the odd moments throughout the last few days, the more you felt that off feeling in your gut grow. Things weren't adding up. Noah had been so opposed to giving the key back to the Autobots, but suddenly had a change of heart. You had thought that perhaps your convincing finally worked, but now you weren't so sure.

You reached for your phone again, only for it to drop in between the desk and bed. Noah stirred slightly, but from what you could tell, he was sound asleep. You gently removed his arm from around you and went to grab your phone.

Sticking your hand in the crack, you could feel your phone. Just as you grasped the edges, you felt something sharp scratch you. You wanted to yell out in pain but refrained from doing so in case it woke up your boyfriend.

You reached for whatever it was that had hurt you so badly, only to find… a terrorcon badge?

Turning it over, you found that there was a small lit box with a dim glowing light. Was that… a locator?

Why the fuck did Noah have a terrorcon emblem? And why did it look like it was… active?

You felt like throwing up. The nasty gut feeling that was culminating in your stomach clawed at your throat and you moved as swiftly and silently as possible to the door.

Running to the bathroom, you threw up into the toilet just in time for it to not make a mess.

Holy shit. Noah is working with the Terrorcons??

"Honey?" Fuck, that was Noah's voice. "Are you alright?"

Another wave of nausea hits you at the question, and you vomit again.

"Woah-" Noah quickly pulls your hair out of the way. You can't tell him that it only makes you more sick.

After another minute of staring into the toilet bowl, you begin to get up shakily.

"Hey, take it easy-" Noah grabs your arm to support you and you flinch. He notices immediately. "Baby?"

You shake your head dismissively. "I need some water." You try to make it to the kitchen on your own, stealing yourself away from your boyfriend, but after a few steps your knees buckle and you find yourself sliding against one of the walls of the hallway. You're happy that Kris and Noah's mom are away- you're sure the noise would have woken them up by now. And with them gone, you can attempt to get a handle of this mess without potentially endangering them.

The thought makes you shiver. You couldn't believe you were now considering Noah a threat.

To your inner disgust, Noah helps you up and half-carries half-walks you to the fridge to get some water.

He grabs a glass from a cupboard, and you take the chance to slip close to the drawer that holds all of the kitchen knives. You slowly open the drawer and grab one.

When Noah turns around holding the cut, he immediately sees the knife held shakily in front of you by your dominant hand.

His heart drops immediately, and he looks at you regretfully and takes slow steps toward you. "Baby, what-"

"Stay away from me," you grit out, your other hand clutching at your stomach. "Don't touch me!"

Noah looks the most hurt you've ever seen him. "What are you doing?"

"Tell me why you have a Terrorcon emblem with a tracker on the back of it," you say. Tears well up in your eyes and you resist the urge to run to him and sob against his chest. You want so badly to be comforted by him, for Noah to tell you that everything will be okay, to tell you this is some sort of misunderstanding. "Why are you always leaving, Noah?"

It's Noah's turn to tear up now. "Baby, I don't know what you're-"

"STOP IT!" You scream. "STOP TELLING ME LIES," you're yelling at him through the cascade of tears falling from your eyes. "I TRUSTED YOU, NOAH-" your voice breaks. "I thought- I thought you-" you take a breath to steady yourself. "Was this all a joke to you?" It's the most honest you've been with him tonight. After asking, you feel like you've laid yourself bare in front of him.

"It wasn't- I never meant to hurt you," he says, a single tear making its way down his freckled cheek. "I can explain- please just put the knife down, baby-"

"Don't call me that," you tremble. "Just stop it."

He takes a step back. "I don't want to hurt you. I love you, I love you so much." The tears multiply across his face. "I just- I wanted to keep you and Kris and Ma safe- and the Terrorcons already have one half of the key-" Some sobs break loose and in the moonlight you can see fragments of who you thought he was washing away as he continues. "They said if I helped them, they would make a place for us on Unicron, for all of us to live there safely. They said they would keep you safe! That's all I wanted, please, you have to believe me." He's looking at you pleadingly, begging for you to understand. But you can't.

You take a shaky breath. "But the Autobots are our friends, Noah."

He grimaces. "I know, but Optimus only cares about himself. You know this, I know you do. You've seen him!"

"He's just doing what he thinks is right," you say. "It's not about being selfish, it's about taking care of your family," you look him dead in the eye. "Something you wouldn't understand."

A pang of guilt stabs Noah in the chest. "I did this for you," he says. "It was all for-"

"Does hurting me make you feel good or something?"

It's silent for a moment, and Noah says, "If it's what I have to do to make sure you're safe." Out of nowhere, he pulls out a gun and points it at you. "I'm sorry," he's crying again, but taking steps close to you.

"NOAH- STAY BACK!" It's too late, he lunges at you and you don't have the strength to use the knife in your hand. He grabs the knife out of your hands and tosses it behind him. You fall back onto the floor, hitting your head harshly on the ground of the kitchen. You start to see stars, and the thought of a concussion crosses your mind. Noah is on you in seconds, pinning your arms and sitting on top of you.

"I'm so sorry," he says. "I need to keep you safe." He leans down close to your face, and you're too disoriented from the fall to protest. His lips brush against your cheek in a swift kiss, and he leans his forehead against yours for a bit before hitting you sharply across the head with the butt of his gun.

pt. 2 coming soon!

[velvet-games]

ficlet inspired by this post @theautotrophic made. it ended spiraling into something very different lol but it's still kind of the same idea? I just needed to explain why vox joins the hotel in my universe.

“Ugh! How is this still happening?” Charlie moaned, turning off the TV. “I don’t think we can make any progress if we don’t start creating our own news coverage.”

“What was that?” Alastor stepped closer to the couch she and Vaggie were slumped on, suddenly curious. 

“It’s Vox. He’s making almost every channel about how much of a failure the hotel is – even though we just proved redemption is possible – and I think it’s actually gaining a lot of traction.” Charlie sighed. “It’s just … I thought everything would get better after we saved the day and my dad could help out, you know? But we’re still fighting just to get people to give us a chance.”

Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re the ones with actual proof. I’m sure if we make our own announcement–”

“Wait! Alastor, you made that commercial last time, right?”

“Oh, uh, about that, Charlie–”

“You can make more to counter Vox’s stuff. Hey, and you were friends with him at some point too, right? So you know how to deal with him–”

“Charlie.” Vaggie spun Charlie around to face her. “Sorry. It’s just …”

“Vaggie made a deal with me so that I would never have to work with those picture boxes again,” Alastor finished cheerfully. 

Vaggie visibly deflated in shame. “Uh, yeah, something like that,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry.” Her expression became even more miserable as Charlie seemed to deflate too.

“Oh,” Charlie said. “Well, maybe you could–”

“But!” Alastor interjected, holding up a finger. He was far above drawing any attention to the Vees unprovoked, but this was about as good of an excuse as any. “The purpose of the deal was to prevent me from having any obligation to use the medium for producing entertainment. I would be happy to … take care of the interference from Vox.”

“Great!” Charlie’s eyes shone for one perfectly naive second before her face twisted in suspicion. “Wait … what are you gonna do?”

“Oh, just mess with his wires a little; nothing extreme, dear.”

—

A loud BOOM shook the building as Vaggie failed for the third time to get the TV to turn on. She sighed. “Goddammit.” None of the TVs were working, the Vees’ website had crashed, and Alastor had been gone for the last 24 hours. Vaggie could almost see the expression of horror on Charlie’s face when she found out Alastor had absolutely done more than “mess with his wires a little.” Vaggie rushed to the window, and yep. There it was: a giant red deer demon with shadow tentacles shooting out of it as a much smaller blue smudge darted around with trails of electricity following it. She sighed again. “Charlie? Come down; Alastor’s being an asshole again.”

—

“And I had a great idea for a new show that was gonna air today too!” Vox narrowly dodged another hit from Alastor’s shadows. 

“Another new show? My dear, you really are proving just how much you’re throwing rocks at the wall in the hopes that they’ll miraculously stick.” Alastor turned as Vox appeared behind him in a shower of sparks. “And was it really your idea? Or did you just have your little unpaid underlings come up with it for you?” 

“Fuck you!”

“Oh, I think we’re far past that possibility, darling.” Alastor chuckled, finally managing to grab Vox before he could jump into another streetlamp. “What was the idea? Another reality dating show with manufactured drama? Really, is anything you produce even remotely original nowadays?” The shadow tendril threw Vox into a nearby building. What remained of the terrified pedestrians scattered like ants as Vox fell, several bricks going with him. “What a pity. You used to at least come up with half-decent stories, even if the endings were always laughable.”

Vox groaned, trying to hold several shards of his broken screen in place. “N-No one cares. No one fucking cares what you think; I’m the one who built the empire. You have like, three listeners on that ancient radio show.”

“And each one of them has told me how much they like it, that it’s their favorite, even!” Alastor leaned down. “Would anyone watch you without the hypnosis, without other people’s hard work masquerading as your own?” He smirked. “Would anyone love you without manipulation?”

That last part caused Vox to look up, teeth bared. Several wires shot out of the building behind him and attached themselves to his head, lifting him up to be at eye level with Alastor. “Would anyone love you without manipulation?” Alastor kept smiling despite the surge of electricity that hit him; he quickly batted Vox out of the air, cutting off the attack. 

“I’ll have you know that nearly everyone who meets me adores me, whether they admit it or not,” Alastor replied smoothly. “Including you.”

Vox was on his knees, wires falling as he coughed up what became a puddle of blood. It was always startling how red it was, despite the mechanical nature of most of his body. “Yeah, have a fucking laugh.” His voice became quiet, muffled by static. “Have a fucking laugh about the fact that I loved you and you threw me away like a box of scraps.” He sniffed, standing up shakily and wiping a trail of red from his mouth. “Well, I’m the one with all the influence now, aren’t I? I’m the one with an actual team. You were fading even before you left; I bet you really did ask an angel for help, just to stay fucking relevant. Most of the other overlords aren’t scared of you anymore, and they’ll fucking kill you when none of them are.” 

Alastor narrowed his eyes. “You loved me? Is that why you ran away with that moth to make ‘entertainment’ even you won’t watch?” He started shrinking to his usual size, stepping forward. 

Vox scrambled back, one hand generating a few weak sparks. “Val loves me.”

“Valentino knows you’ll gnaw on any affection you get like a starving dog with a soup bone.” Alastor pushed Vox to the ground again, reaching down to wrap his fingers around Vox’s throat. The sparks in his hand died. “He knows you’re too selfish to make a real connection with anyone.”

Tears welled in Vox’s eyes, round and filling up nearly all of what was left of his screen. “I-I still love you,” he managed to choke out quietly. 

Alastor tightened his grip. “You love money. And I was stupid enough to care for you before I realized that.” Vox’s eyes managed to get even bigger as he started to really choke. “But you’re just dirt underneath my feet, and I’ll kill you every day that I have left here so you remember that.” Alastor just watched Vox’s face for a moment, then pulled out a small knife with his other hand. “Actually, you know what? I have angelic steel with me. I think I’ll just finish you here.” He drove the blade into Vox's side before he could respond, prompting a pained, strangled sound. It wouldn’t kill him quickly. He’d feel it for hours as he bled out if no one helped him. 

“Alastor!” a shrill voice called. He turned to see Charlie’s panicked face, her chest jumping with labored breaths as she stumbled to a stop. “Stop! Stop; I’m sure he’s had enough.”

Alastor stood up, giving one last petty kick to Vox’s leg. He put on an upbeat tune. “Hm, alright. I was just about getting bored with him anyway. How about we go get lunch at that new place around the corner? I’m absolutely starved!”

“I–” Charlie blinked. “No, Alastor, he–” She looked around his shoulder, flinching when she saw the state Vox was in. “Shouldn’t we help him?” she whispered. 

“And whyever would we do that?” 

“Well, I mean …” Charlie started, then appeared to brighten a little. “Actually. I have an idea.” She straightened her shoulders, putting on her “aggressively-kindly” face and voice. “As princess of Hell, I command you to leave the Vees and come help with the hotel. And make up with Alastor.” She glanced at Alastor apologetically before mumbling quickly, “onlyifyouwanttothoughyoudon’thavetodoanythingyou’renotcomfortablewith.” 

Vox blinked, managing to look unimpressed despite bleeding profusely and only having a quarter of his original face visible between all the cracks and glitching. “I would literally rather kill myself.”

Charlie blushed all the way to her ears. “O-Oh.” 

Alastor just burst out laughing, making a show of spinning his cane as he stepped closer to Vox. “Well, old friend,” he said, lifting a heeled boot above Vox’s chest and pressing down. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary if you refuse our help.” Vox sputtered a little as Alastor continued to push. “How about this: Lucifer can heal your wound, and you take a temporary break from working with the Vees, just long enough to help us create a presentation for the angels.” He let his gums show with a smirk that probably contained enough smugness to kill a horse. “And I would love to have you for dinner the night you leave. Is that a deal?”

Vox immediately blushed despite clearly being too lightheaded from blood loss to fully understand what Alastor was saying. “You bastard” – Alastor pressed harder – “Fine! Fine, yes. It’s a deal justliftyourfootholyshitfuck–”

“Wonderful!” Alastor lifted his boot, leaving Vox coughing and bending over on his side. “Now. you two have fun; I’m afraid I need another visit to the tailor,” he said. He brushed off his lapels and straightened his cuffs. “Oh, and Vox? It wasn’t angelic steel; I just think desperation suits you.”

Alastor was gone before the cries of indignant surprise assaulted his ears.

[sillyromance]

Hello! First time here

Could you do some Bayverse ironhide safe vore with human reader?

Where reader is a N.E.S.T soldier, squad leader and stuff, thhey are terrified of trains and one day during a mission on a abandoned train station, and when a deception appears reader just freezes in fear and only stares at the battle happening which almost lead to reader getting seriously hurt but since Ironhide was there reader left with only some small scratches

Later when coming back to base reader gets scolded by Lennox for doing absolutely nothing and calling her such names and giving her some days without battling as punishment, and Ironhide comes knowing this and tries to comfort them

If you're not doing anything with bayverse then you can do with gen 1 Ironhide I won't mind! Love your writing by the way

Hello, dear anonymous!

Thank you for your comment! That's such a beautiful trope! I haven't seen Bay movies themselves, but I've been interested in that version of transformers and the way they were portrayed there, so I know the charachters. I'm sorry for such a delay, and I really hope you'll like the story.

Have a good time and take care!

War and peace

WARNING: reader injury, mental hurt/comfort, strong language.

You looked up.

Stars were slowly disappearing, night sky getting paler bit by bit and turning from black into greenish blue. Birds sang loudly around the camp; high trees surrounded the station like spiky walls, and one could be eluded to think they were hopelessly separated from the rest of the world. In reality, you were just a few miles away from the city, though nature in that region seemed to come close to urban areas.

You threw a glance at the watch - it was already three in the morning, yet you hardly had any sleep through out the night. The squadron had been sent to this place to track and, possibly, neutralize a decepticon which had been hiding here… As far as it was heard from the locals, at least. Even though the station was abandoned decades ago, the place seemed to be a swampy one; wetness would rather spook such creature away. Besides, the crew hadn’t registered any suspicious activity in the area. So you started to think that might be just a false alarm.

Endless blades of railways twinkled in uneven light of the rising sun. If you looked carefully, you could see small drops of water on them – the evidence of a recent rain. It was pretty foggy, too: an old train station seemed to be floating in the air, drowning in thick violet foam.

As pretty as it looked, your mind wasn’t completely occupied by the view. You couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling off of yourself. Looking around, you saw nothing but old cracked concrete and rust sticking on metal constructions; thick smell of old leaves and rotten plants had gotten stuck in your nose, causing a throbbing headache. That did things only worse. Scarier…

Because, in fact, you were afraid.

No one knew of your phobia. You had been terrified of trains since childhood and, despite all the attempts to heal it, you couldn’t make any progress so far. That fear spread on everything connected to those machines, and it wasn’t a surprise when, previously at base, simple mentioning of where you were supposed to go made you flinch and tense instantly. However, the job was the job… And you had to do it as a good soldier you were, without any questions.

You felt tired, and irritated. Double stress wore you off; you impatiently waited for an order to clear the place and return home. Your comrades were exhausted as well; and some of them audibly announced it, arguing quietly, but dirty, just behind your back.

Equipment and clothes were heavy; you sat at the bench and put the gun aside, wiping sweat streaming down your forehead.

Nevermind. Soon you would be in your room again with nothing to worry in the world. Especially trains and railways.

– How are you, sir/ma'am?

You winced and looked on the right: a tall red-headed guy, Roger, stood nearby with an apologetic expression on his face covered in freckles like a meadow - in dandelions.

– Could be worse. – You replied with a weak smile and moved a little, so there would be place for two.

He approached and sat beside you, his fingers diving into the pocket of his trousers and revealing a pack of cigarettes.

– Do you think that guy will show itself? - He asked, lightning one up.

– I wish it didn’t. But if the alien is here, we must take them before it is too late... – You answered, wrinkling your nose at the smoke.

His hands were trembling. Roger was a newbe, just like you, and not the bravest one; he was good at math and making plans, but engaging in combat wasn’t really his cup of tea despite his good shooting skills. Sometimes you wondered how he found himself a N.E.S.T. soldier at the first place… Although, who knows where destiny will throw us at the next moment? Unfortunately, as it was written in one book, people can’t plan their future even for a miserable period of time…

You frowned.

That damn fog… You couldn’t see anything further than five meters clearly. Aside from being in a place that sank you in anxiety, you felt your guts tied in a knot, thinking of a huge, intelligent, armed machine for killing walking somewhere under the milky cover. You wouldn’t be able to see it, but it was very much able to see you.

You knew what autobots could do.

But a deception must be capable of thing much worse…

Just as you were thinking about it, a long whining sound tore through the fog. The noise escalated, fusing with a heavy, earthshaking thumps. Before anyone could react, a huge figure, wet and metal, jumped at the rails, washing people in dirty water drizzling from under its feet: two red eyes pierced right through you like bullets, and the next thing you knew was Roger’s scream as the decepticon smashed its large fist at the concrete platform.

-         Fire! Open fire! – Someone shouted at the background; their yelling stimulated the crew to send rows of shots in the beast’s direction.

You didn’t hear them – everything was mute after a deafing burst of stone and mud risen to the sky. You were lying motionlessly at the miraculously untouched half of the station; the shirt was ruined, cut in several places – there were stripes of raw bleeding flesh beneath. You didn’t know what happened to Roger – thank God if he was able to escape.

You knew you must do something: run, fight, help your comrades defeat this. Actually, you were the one to give orders. Hypothetically, you could, but your muscles froze. You felt impossibly strong wish to cry out for help, but your lungs atrophied. That thing, that… abomination – it was so freaking close! The monster with insect-like muzzle was starring directly at you, its disgusting claws reaching out to grab a helpless human.

Was that it? Was that how your life supposed to end?

Was that how death would come to you standing, tied up by your own terror, at the railway of stupidity and looking how it was rushing towards you without any intention to stop?..

In the end, your fears were right. You would be killed by a machine you couldn’t stand against.

The horrible, crooked manipulator covered in rust and blood was already looming over your head. Cool, sour air slammed your nostrils.

Closer…

Closer…

Closer!..

And then, a long shadow fell on you and the decepticon was gone. A crushing wave of air rolled you to the edge of the platform from where you fell in the grass and lost your senses…

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

You were walking down the corridor, shoulders up to your ears, your back bended and hands hidden in pockets of the jacket. Lamps on the ceiling threw cold, indifferent light at your crocked frame from above; sound of each step echoed too loudly in the shallow hallway.

 “Is this your way to have the job done – to stand still and watch as your people die?..”

Scenes of your last encounter with Lennox were constantly replaying in your head. She temporarily prohibited you from going on missions with others, so you could think about your behavior.

“I could never predict one of my soldiers to be such a miserable, pathetic mess… Be grateful that you are still here. You know, I should have banished you! Don’t even try to say anything now – all your reasons cost nothing, especially that human lives you put in danger by being incompetent…”

You couldn’t help it – tears ran down your cheeks, vision became all dark and blurry. You were swaying from side to side, feeling exhausted and sore: the injuries you got were not that dangerous, though it didn’t mean they didn’t hurt. And with your soul being torn apart with knowledge of your guilt, they hurt even worse.

Soon you came by the door you were searching for. You opened it and stepped on a gallery taking place right under the roof of a huge hangar. That was one of the biggest and the most protected sections of the base – a large room which could fit a full-sized plane, sealed under Earth’s surface.

The domain of aliens of iron and steel, armored giants from another side of the galaxy.

Some of them stayed in their disguises, resting, others held conversations with humans assigned to take care of the “foreign guests”, and some just minded their own businesses, like Wheeljack for instance: the goofy scientist was trying to create something with junk flooding the floor while his tiny robotic friends were jumping around him with funny squealks.

Two bots in their humanoid forms were standing in the farthest corner and talking . Those were Optimus and your friend, Ironhide; their voices rumbled lowly, almost inaudibly, overshadowed by white noise. Though it was difficult to read emotions on faces of those mechanical creatures, you could swear Optimus’ faceplate showed something similar to concern.

As far as you made yourself visible going down the stairs, he turned to you and made a gesture inviting you to come closer. Ironhide send you a look too, his expression seeming to… soften?

Must be just your vivid imagination.

You didn’t want to cause displeasure of such a powerful creature like Prime – it was more than enough troubles already for you – so you obliged, shortening the distance between you and the pair, trying your best to keep an eye contact with the leader while walking. He was good at reading body language, so you tried to mask your pain and shame. Meanwhile, when any of other bots happened to hide you behind their bodies, you used the chance to wipe your face, so, as you came close to Optimus and Ironhide, your cheeks were still red, but dry.

-         Hello there, Y/N. – Prime’s deep, husky voice never failed to send a swarm of shivers down your spine. And it didn’t help that he went down on his knee and his faceplate was just a few meters from you. – I have heard from my friend about the accident this morning. Are you all right?

You flinched.

-         Thank you, sir… It’s fine, sir. I’ll be over it soon.

-         Good.

Ironhide kneeled too, his tone gentle, but blue optics sharp, dwelling right into your heart.

Fuck.

 – I know, sometimes it’s hard to go against your instincts. Don’t let this all get into your head – I assure you, there will be time when you’ll get used to the things we are doing.

-         Yes, of course.

You wanted to leave as soon as possible.

Yet, you had one more thing to do beforehand.

– By the way… Ironhide… Thank you. For helping me.

The bot made a protesting gesture.

– Don’t mention it – It was my duty.

– Well, I don’t think it was your duty to carry me right into the hospital?

You said it without any teasing intention. However, the old soldier suddenly turned quite flustered, nervous even. You recognized the mistake only when you noticed thin streams of steam puffing from under his plates.

– Well… I couldn’t just leave you there unconscious!.. You know – you humans are so… fragile… and…

You could swear that Optimus gave his pal a look.

– Ok. I see. – Ironhide muttering amused you a bit; you actually managed to give him a smirk! – And still, I’m very grateful for what you’ve done. I could have been long dead... Now, sorry… I must go.

One by one, the bots straightened up. Optimus smiled slightly; something in the way he looked at you was wrong, but you didn’t have a wish to investigate. You send them a farewell salute and made your way to the exit.

“You are unworthy of pity! I really hope you understand that, Y/N. Maybe others will forgive you, but not me – since this day you are under my watch from dawn to dawn. And if I see more of your flaws…”

After throwing one last glance, which didn’t keep even a scrape of cheerfulness you sensed a second ago, over your shoulder, you walked out, sinking in the shadows again.

The shadows where you belonged.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

-         Hey, Y/N… Are you sleeping?

You sat up straight in bed, rubbing your sore eyes. No, you weren’t sleeping, but scrolling through your phone till that very minute your comm link unexpectedly came to life in the dead of the night. Despite everything you had gone through, helpful oblivion didn’t grant you its mercy – thanks to self-loath and anxiety holding you captive.

Only after a second or two you realized: the voice was familiar. Too familiar.

 -        …Ironhide?! For God’s sake! No, I don’t, but what’s the hell? Has something happened?

-         No, no! Don’t worry, it’s fine… Just wondering... Do you mind coming to the hangar for a chat?

You shrugged your shoulders, puzzled, but replied:

-         Sure… Are your comrades… awake, too?

-         Nah, they all are in deep recharge by now. I don’t think we will wake them up.

-         I see…

-         I’m waiting for you then. On the usual place. Over.

-         OK, over.

You switched the comm link off and blinked. It wasn’t like him. That bot wouldn’t bother anyone just because he didn’t have a companion to talk to. At least, you thought that way not so long ago…

There was no wish to climb off of the warm sheets, but you forced your feet down on the icy floor and, feeling as it was burning them, walked to the bathroom. Splashing a handful of freezing water into the face was painful, yet refreshing.

Looking at yourself, you couldn’t help but let out a small laughter at the red, huge-eyed human staring at you from behind the mirror.

Puny.

It didn’t take long to put on some clothes and find the way to hangar.

Ironhide was in his machine form when you found him: he signaled you with his headlights as you finally entered the room. Night lamps couldn’t give the hangar enough light, so the only effect they had was creating an illusion that the room rested at the bottom of the dark sea.

You let your intuition guide you, and very soon you were standing on the other half of the hangar, Ironhide being right in front you, his black armor barely noticeable in the shadows.

-         Hi again. – You greeted him, approaching your friend and putting a hand on his scratched bonnet.

-         Hello. – Ironhide whispered, trying to speak as quielyt as he could. – I was looking forward to see you.

-         Really? – You smirked sadly. – What’s the point in that? Aren’t you turning into a softie, huh?..

-         I’m not a softie. – The autobot grumbled, yet didn’t rolled away from your touch. – However… I think we need to have a talk. And discuss some events of the previous day you definitely remember, don’t you think?

Everything inside you yanked down as he let that out. You flinched and backed away, a look of hurt and misunderstanding frozen on your face.

-         Why would you want to bring it up? It’s over. Nothing can be changed now and…

-         I don’t care about what could be changed! It’s all about you, daisy!

-         What about me? Do you want to confirm it was all my fault, too? Thanks, others have already done that! I know it’s my fault, I know I’m a failure, but please, please… Leave me alone. Just… Am I not suffering enough?

You hugged yourself, turning away. Teeth clenched; eyes shut tightly. You didn’t want to hear all that again. You didn’t want anyone to blame you anymore, or even mention that horrible morning. Your comrades could have died! You knew that! Enough! Stop!

Stop!

STOP!

– Y/N. Please. Stop screaming.

Wow. Did you really lash those out?

– Let’s get somewhere…more  private. Shall we?

…Cool night air felt nice on the burning cheeks. You were sitting on the ground outside the base; a big tree sticking out from behind the metallic fence wrapped you in its curly shadow, rustling gently. Somewhere nearby you heard a ringing presence of a spring, scent of mushrooms pleasantly tickled your nerves; if you lowered your eyelids, you could think you were in the forest again. Although, now that thought was peaceful, intoxicatingly soothing.

Ironhide transformed and settled beside you, silent. His blue optics gazed at the clouds - black ghosts haunting the sky.

You leaned back on his frame.

– I believe, Lennox hasn’t been patient with you? I caught some rumors about her giving you a “break” from work.

It pulled a dry giggle out of your chest.

– …I see. What a b!tch! I mean… I can understand her, but if that thing popped up from nowhere in front of her, I doubt she would be that brave!

– Don’t worry much, pal. She is right…

– She is not, Y/N! She. Is. Not. You didn’t do anything wrong! Moreover: it is pure luck you are alive! If I wasn’t there… - His voice cracked. You couls see his servos turning into fists. – When I held you in my hands, you were a literal corpse!

– Don’t hyperbolize, Hidey.

You stroke his frame, feeling as it was rapidly heating up beneath your skin.

–All I want to say is… I was worried. The danger was real – whatever you would do, it would only end up worse for you than it did. She doesn’t get it right. I saw what those monsters could do to my kind! And, being honest, you humans are no match for them. It isn’t your war at all… She can’t punish a person who encountered a monster for the first time for their fear.

– But these monsters are invading my world now! Even though we are small and weak, we must do everything to protect our planet. I had to be stronger; now it’s the time when no mistakes are allowed.

– No one can grow without making mistakes. And neither she, nor you are gods to never make one. Enough crying over spilled milk! Hold yourself together. Guilt won’t make any difference. Only if you learn from your failures, they have any meaning.

Ironhide cautiously laid down, his arm shielding you protectively.

– And remember: only you choose who you want to be. You are a good person, Y/N. Don’t let anyone – especially Lennox – make you forget that.

When you heard that, choking sensation straining your ribcage since the very morning suddenly loosened. You pulled yourself closer to him, spreading your arms over his chest armor as far as you could. You were sobbing.

–Thank you, Hidey.

He brought his second manipulator from under his head, and soon you were sitting in an affectionate hug.

The bot was silent for a good while. Unnoticably for yourself, your head started nodding, mind sinking into light drowsiness. The night was so calm, and smooth steel you were pressed against was so warm…

– Feeling sleepy, little one?

You jumped slightly at his voice, disoriented, and gave him a sheepish look.

– Of course, you do – it’s your second night without proper rest. Come here.

The bot gently scooped your tiny form, then brought you to his faceplate, smiling a bit.

– Let’s get you somewhere no one will be able to hurt you anymore…

You hummed approvingly in response and didn’t struggle against him carefully putting you in his mouth, on the plushie glossa. As far as your head and shoulders touched its tender surface, you let go of yourself, completely submitting to the will of a being hundred times larger than you. Sore limbs were paralyzed by irresistible, long-sought pleasure; you couldn’t move for an inch even if you wanted to, and it didn’t help that saliva soaked you to the core almost instantly. Soft blue light pulsed steadily before you like a leading star, and you didn’t hesitate to answer its call, sliding deeper, obedient and trusting like a naïve lamb.

A ring of artificial muscles compressed you. One wet “gulk” - and a good half of you slipped into a glowing tunnel of the throat. Each new contraction pushed you further, and a second after you didn’t feel chilly air on your ankles anymore; Ironhide’s glossa playfully caressed your legs and guided them to the pharynx where they immediately vanished. You felt his digits trailing your decend down the throat - and that the was the last thing connecting you to the outside world.

And when you lost it, the world was gone.

Ironhide's sparkbeat filled you to the tips of your hair; gentle sounds of the bot’s body working flowed into your ears like music, distracting you from the pain and bad memories. Without any effort from your side, you slowly slipped down the esophagus, eyes closed, body - relaxed, light and powerless aka feather. Dreamy glow and cottony softness of his insides reminded you of those clouds chasing each other up in heavens.

It was peace.

It was freedom.

Eventually, the space around you decreased. As you arrived at the fuel tank, you didn’t waste any minute longer – and curled up in a small ball, tucking yourself in the floppy wall moving underneath your touch. Gurgling and bubbling of energon lulled you; you drifted off to sleep – which promised to be long, sound, and undisturbed. Alive bed tightened its embrace around your snoring form, cradling you, protecting you, reassuring you that from now on, no harm would come to you.

Ironhide sighed, relieved, as you plopped in his stomach and cuddled into its lining. His servo laid on his abdominal platings, and, though his armor was too thick for you to feel it, rubbed a few times at the spot where he could feel you snuggled up.

He missed this weight within.

The bot was tough, and distant, and harsh at times. He didn’t hesitate to kill and never sugarcoated things, being the source of brutal truth and the most reasonable transformer after Prime. But you… Your tears were his only weakness. Sensing you there now, right under his spark, hearing your tiny heart beating, your hands clenching at his flesh, he could forget about everything: war, death, misery of his kind. It was like being home again, and nothing had ever happened. You could only predict how much you actually ment, and he wasn’t able to bring himself say that out loud… Yet…

He would do anything to ensure you would live. Live happily, in the world where no monsters: metal or fleshy – could reach you with their sharp claws.

Tomorrow, he would pay a visit to Lennox and teach her a lesson… A sunshine like you didn’t deserve any of the shit you had to go through because of her.

Because of the strange aliens fallen on Earth…

Because of him.

He returned at the base. Every step he took was slow and deliberate – so you wouldn’t be jostled inside him too much. Despite the enormous size, he masterfully sneaked between his comrades to his corner where he sat still, bringing his knees up to the chest, closing his optics and concentrating on you.

At last, he was calm, too.  

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Neither Ironhide, nor you expected to be watched. Optimus was awakened by you yelling earlier, but didn’t want to spook you two, so he simply observed you from a far. He saw how Ironhide led you away through the main exit, then, after some time, he returned, alone – and sat aside from everyone, so big and strong, yet somehow vulnerable.

He talked only about you. He cared for you. He made excuses for you.

Prime knew what happened, or, rather, what had been happening. And he knew that would continue.

Was it bad? No.

Was it good? Maybe.

He wished it was. And prayed Primus to give time for this to bloom…

[tfp-enthusiast]

Tiny!Transformers

Starscream

[Thank you! Sorry if it's a little late.]

You where brought to the Nemesis in the middle of the day, Soundwave made an excuse for you at school/work, and you had no clue why

It didn't help that Knockout was laughing the whole drive

"Knockout, what happened?"

Over the com you could hear Breakdown chuckling a bit before answering for KO

"Don't worry, it's nothing big"

Knockout and Breakdown where laughing their asses off from that sentence

Let's say that when you saw what exactly the problem was you had to bite back some laughs

Of course it was some kind of bad pun to the situation, you guessed that but you didn't expect Starscream to be around half the size of your leg

"...Can I ask what happened to you?"

"I don't have to tell you anything!"

Of course he would say that infront of the others

You will just ask him when you're alone with him

Speaking of alone, you could see that Screamer was not only very uncomfortable but he seemed scared of the others, so you decided to ask Soundwave if you could just 'watch over' him at your home

"Don't think you can now treat me like a sparkling or some kind of pet."

You never would but the thought of putting a leash on him or put him in time out for bad behavior made you grin a little bit

But you kept that thought for yourself

For his sake

When you got home, driven by a Vehicon, you took Starscream to your room

"Hope it isn't too messy for you Screamer, I didn't expect visitors."

He thought for a moment if he should take that as some sort of bad joke but choose not too

He trusted you that far

"What do you fleshies do in moments like these? This berth seems very... wierd."

You chuckled a bit before going to your shelve, that stood next to your bed, setting Starscream down and getting out two Nintendos

"We are gonna play some games! You can choose what you want to play."

Starscream choose Super Mario at first, failed a few times and threw your Nintendo almost against the wall, but then he choose animal crossing

It was cute to see him play such a peaceful game

"By the way.. Why are you so small now?*

He let out an semi annoyed sigh before explaining that he found an relic but it seemed to off when touched, it was badly damaged, and it shrinked him

"Shockwave works on it... probably takes his sweet time with it.."

You just listened to his rantings while you both played and sometimes reassred him about what happend

You hated that the Cons where that mean to their own and while you could understand it to some degree, you didn't understand why they blamed almost everything on him

It began to get late and you got tired but didn't want this time to stop

It was very rare to see Starscream relaxed like this and you felt bad for him

But he noticed too that you where tired and even if it mostly doesn't seem like he cares but he does, in fact, care a lot

"Go to recharge now. I can't have you half asleep here."

You just nodded and smiled before getting ready for bed

Starscream laid next to you, seems like he liked the softness of your bed

After some comfortable silence he begann to talk

"Thank you for taking me with you."

You didn't know if he expected that you heard him but you answered none the less

"Of course i did. It's what friends do for each other."

You could see him smile and began to drift off to sleep

THE NEXT MORNING

You got woken up by someone cursing loudly

When you got up and let your eyes adjust to the light you saw Starscream fly around your room with something sticking to his vehicle mode

"Y/n help me! Whatever this is it blocks my ability to transform!"

You where confused but nodded before answering in a groggy state

"Then you have to come here, I will try my best at helping."

Upon looking closer it was a bit of flex tape

Where did he even get it from???

That would be the perfect add 'even stoops alien robots'

Whiile you where with busy not laughing at your own, bad, joke Starscream started looking trough your stuff

"What is this!?"

You watched where he was and saw he was mentioning towards your favorite book

"That's a book, we humans like to read them because they are entertaining and sometimes teach you new things."

Starscream just nodded as if he was taking in the information

Afzer a few seconds he just transformed and flew to where the Nintendos where and picked both up

He gave you one and then turned his on, they learn so fast, and smiled at you

"I want to play again."

You can't say no to that face

So you played the next hours animal crossing and even tried again to play Super Mario but seems like tthis kid of game was just not for him

Tho it was cute to see the joy in his eyes wheen new people joined

But even the best time has to stop

You got an SMS from Soundwave saying that you will be picked up in a few minutes and Starscream will be turned back to his original height

You swear you saw a sad look on his face for a moment

After Starscream was back to normal he treated you better, he did before just not infront of others

It was not all bad, just you missed bit that he seemed so carefree for a while

You still sometimes play animal crossing and he even does when you aren't there, he surprised you one time with an island themed around you and the things you like

[videogamelover99]

[Gravity Falls] Waking Days Ch. 2: Sorry

Summary: Bill Cipher is reborn, but not in the way he would have wanted. Stuck as a mortal and relying on those who brought his downfall, he realizes that maybe he didn't lie as hard as he should have. [AO3 Link] Characters: Bill Cipher, Mabel Pines, Dipper Pines, Stanford Pines, Stanley Pines, Jheselbraum the Unswerving, The Axolotl Pairings: past BillFord Rating: T

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! Thank you to @megxolotl and @nexstage for beta-reading this chapter. This was a fun one to write. Enjoy!

---

The pig poked his chubby head through the hole in the floor. “Oink.”

Mabel stepped forward. “Waddles! You silly goober! I was worried!”

“Your pet’s got some fun new upgrades.”

It took a moment to realize what Bill meant. There was a strange distortion around Waddles, not unlike an optical illusion, rendering the air around him in technicolor splashes. 

Mabel paused; a smile still frozen on her face.

What slowly freed itself from the hole in the floor, scattering wood and nails in its wake, was not a pig, per se. Or rather, it was too much pig. Too many heads stacked one atop the other like a horrifying totem pole. Legs with little hooves sticking out in odd places, most coalescing on the bottom, twenty or so, helping the creature skitter around like a big, pig-headed spider. It seemed to be shifting, constantly reforming. A head would emerge from the body, only to be replaced by a hoof, then a tail, then an eye. It was an ever-changing, ever-shifting mass of flesh. 

And it looked like Mabel’s pet pig.

“Waddles…” Mabel whispered, “What happened to you?”

Bill laughed, delighted. “Looks like you got a new and improved version, Star. One head’s so last year.”

The pig head closest to her gave her an experimental sniff. 

Mabel approached it again.

“Mabel! Don’t!” said Dipper. 

“It’s okay, see?” Mabel stretched out her hand. “Grunkle Ford will fix you, I promise. I told you not to eat weird stuff on the ground.”

A dozen sets of pig eyes blinked. The monster gave a small whimper. 

Then reared back as five more heads emerged, teeth chomping down on Mabel’s hand.

“Mabel!” Dipper yanked her out of the way, and the teeth snapped onto thin air. Several more heads screeched in unison.

OINKoinkOiNkoinkoinkOINKoinK!

The three humans scrambled back. Bill looked a lot less ecstatic now that he knew it might eat them.

“Gift shop!” Dipper yelled. “Basement!”

The pig creature gave chase, all of its twenty legs slipping on wooden floors and old carpets. They turned the corner, and the creature followed, its momentum making it slam into the opposite wall before its way too many feet picked up traction. 

They ran into the gift shop and Dipper quickly put in the code. The vending machine hissed, opening up far too slowly. 

The monster was right behind them.

Dipper screamed. Bill let out a string of sounds that might’ve been curse words if they sounded anything like human language.

Mabel reached into her pocket and threw the first object she could find, which was a half-eaten bar of chocolate.

Momentarily distracted, the monster scrambled after the treat. The vending machine opened, and the three of them rushed inside. 

—

Sitting on the bottom floor of the basement, the remnants of the destroyed portal door still embedded in the rocks, Mabel tried very hard not to cry. She watched as her brother paced back and forth, strung out and agitated.

“So, Waddles is now a cursed mutated monster. Any ideas on how that happened?” Dipper glared at Bill. 

“Why do you think it’s my fault?!”

“Because it looks like a horrifying crime against nature? Seems right up your alley!”

“Not that I don’t like the credit, but it tried to kill me, too!”

“Okay,” Dipper said, “Okay, okay, okay, this is fine. We’ll just. Wait for Grunkle Ford to show up. Or Stan. Wait, you don’t think Waddles ate them, do you?”

“Nah…” Bill dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand. “If Sixer got taken down by freakish livestock, that’d be one hell of an insult.”

“Then we’ll just wait, or maybe if Grunkle Ford has any weapons…” Dipper shot another glance at Bill and trailed off. “Actually, how about we just wait.”

“Great idea! Hey, when we run out of rations, who’s eating who first?”

“We’re not gonna be here that long.”

“You plan to literally sit here and do nothing.”

“Do you have a better plan?!”

“Ugh!” Bill walked off, fuming. “‘Get a physical form,’ they said, ‘It’ll be fun,’ they said. Well, I know who’s laughing now!”

Mabel watched Bill pick up an old piece of scrap metal and throw it at the wall. Her eyes met Dipper’s, and she looked away, chewing on a piece of her hair.

“Hey,” Dipper sat down next to her. “We’ll get Waddles back. Like you said, maybe Grunkle Ford knows a way to fix him!”

“But what happened to him?” 

“I don’t know. But whatever it is, it has to be reversible, we just need to-”

Mabel tucked her face into her sweater and sniffled.

“H-hey, come on, there’s still hope.”

“Bill was right.”

“What?”

With her face hidden in the sweater, Mabel couldn’t see Dipper. Couldn’t see anything. Good, she didn’t want to. “About me. If I didn’t treat Waddles like that, then maybe-”

“Mabel, you’re not seriously thinking he became a horrible monster because you put him in an outfit.”

“But what if he hated it?”

“You can’t listen to Bill! He was pulling your leg, Mabel! Messing with you! Because he’s the worst!”

She looked at Bill, far enough from the twins that he couldn’t hear them. He was scowling at the ground as if it had personally offended him. “It really was just a big joke to him, huh?” 

A big joke. Mabel had spent the whole day worrying about Waddles, thinking he had left because he was unhappy. Because she didn’t care enough to see that he was unhappy. And it was all a big joke. And it wasn’t even funny.

She got up abruptly. Dipper shuffled back nervously. “Mabel?”

“You!” Mabel marched up to the used-to-be-demon and looked him right in the eye. Bill seemed equally as surprised at her sudden outburst. “You’re a jerk!”

“Wow, really? Color me surprised!” Bill put one hand against his chest, swooning in dramatic fashion. “You’re really hurting my feelings here, Star.”

“I don’t care!” Mabel shoved him away, causing him to stumble. “I hate you!”

“Yeah, duh. The feeling’s mutual.”

For a moment, Mabel froze at the cold nature of that statement. She’d knitted him a sweater. She’d been nice to him, and he was-

“You made me think Waddles left me!”

“You’re still mad about that? And they call me out for having a few petty grudges. Yeesh. What happened to all that forgiveness crap you like to tout around in your delusional little mind?”

“You don’t deserve it,” Mabel hissed. Bill fell silent, wide-eyed. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and she didn’t care. 

The ground shook under her feet. Mabel looked down. 

“Oh no,” said Dipper.  

The dirt between Dipper and Mabel erupted in a shower of dust. Bits of rock hit Mabel and she shielded her face. She coughed and looked up. 

 SCREEEEE!

Dozens of pig heads screeched in unison. Beady little eyes stared at Mabel and Dipper in turn. 

“Split up!” Dipper yelled and ran for cover toward the busted-up control station. Mabel ran the other way, ducking behind the boulders that used to hold up the portal a summer ago, Bill not far behind. Not!Waddles scampered after them, its legs moving in spider-like unison. It lost its footing on the portal debris, struggling to scamper over with its stubby little hooves, and Mabel ducked behind one of the boulders to catch her breath. 

Bill was right beside her. He was wheezing.

“Why…hah…are your breathing sacs so…inefficient?”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you lounge around all day like a couch potato,” She muttered. 

“If you’re gonna compare me to a vegetable, at least do it to something less round.”

“Couch po-ta-to,” she huffed.

“...Are you still mad? I can’t tell if you’re still mad.”

“I’m still mad!” 

“Shh!”

Mabel winced. They listened quietly for the signs of Not!Waddles, who seemed to have given up on the chase for now. It was too quiet. 

Snort, snort. Oink. 

Never mind. Mabel peeked around the boulder to see ten of the heads sniffing the ground, the long totem pole neck they were attached to bent in a bow shape. In her rush to get away, she’d dropped more chocolate crumbs. The monster was inhaling them with the speed of a dozen-headed vacuum cleaner. 

Waddles loved doing that whenever someone was cooking. He’d sit there, waiting for them to drop something edible, and would slurp it from the floor, getting slobber all over the tiles, then wait for the next slip-up. Her parents hated it. 

It was still Waddles in there. Whether anyone else believed it or not, she could see it. 

“I think I know how to beat him,” Mabel whispered, putting her hand in her pocket to grab her chocolate bar.

“Really? Come on then, give us your genius plan.”

“You have to say sorry first.”

Bill gave her a look that might’ve meant she’d also grown a second head if it wasn’t normal number of heads by Bill’s standards. “What.”

“Sorry,” she repeated. “For what you said earlier.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

“You know what.”

“No.”

“Then I guess we’re stuck here forever.” she leaned against the rock, trying to act nonchalant and not at all terrified for her life.

“Shooting Star.”

“Say sorry.”

“Do you want to die?! Do you want your pet to eat you?”

“I know you won’t mean it,” Mabel said. “But I wanna hear you say it anyway.”

“I’m not-”

Bill’s sharp noise alerted the monster, who raised all of its heads and stared at their hiding place, eyes blank. 

Mabel glared stubbornly at Bill. 

The monster drew near. She could hear the pattering of its feet, one big marching band of footsteps. 

“Mabel Pines-!”

A few feet away now. Five seconds or so, and that would be it.

“Say it!”

“FINE! I’m sorry!”

Mabel turned and flung half of the chocolate bar as far as she could. The pig heads screeched and ran after it, slobber dripping from its mouths. “Go, go, go!” she cried. 

Together, they ran through the cavern and into the control room. 

—

Ford swung back another flask of Cosmic Sand and slammed it on the table with a little more force than necessary, causing the owner of said table to eye him with clear disapproval. He winced apologetically and caught the few drops that trickled down the flask’s edges. “I can’t believe this is happening. Actually, I can believe this is happening, it’s-”

“Bill.” Jheselbraum’s voice didn’t carry any inflection, but the way she said that monster’s name still made Ford shiver.

“Yes. Bill.” Ford wanted to stand up, but the room was spinning too much for his drunken brain to think it was a good idea. “This is all his fault.”

The Oracle shrugged elegantly. “It is.”

“And to think my family wants to play house with him! Like a stray they found on the street!” Ford slumped further onto the table. “It’s all because he looks human.” He spat. “The kids, even Stan, they all feel sorry for him!”

“He is human. Technically speaking.” 

“Yes, but…well, there’s plenty of human psychopaths and people don’t usually volunteer to have them around the house!”

“That’s true,” she took a sip from her flask. “Do you see it as a betrayal? On your family’s part? After all you’ve been through?” After all he put you through, was left unspoken. 

“No, of course not. They’re just…trying to do the right thing. And I understand we can’t just…dump him in an insane asylum or in the middle of a desert, knowing what he’s capable of. Or-”

“Kill him?”

He glanced up. The Oracle’s eyes were challenging behind her flask. 

“Are you…suggesting it?”

Jheselbraum laughed. “No, I’m not. I just assumed that’s where your thoughts drifted to.”

He suddenly felt the need to change the subject. The conversation made something old and desperate claw at him from inside, a desperation he only remembered on his frantic run through the multiverse. “May I ask you something?” 

He had killed. But he wasn’t a killer. Right?

“Go ahead,” she said, crossing one leg elegantly over the other. In the large chair meant for a much taller creature, she looked a little silly in that new human disguise she was sporting.

“Why don’t you change? Back to how you looked like when we met?”

“I’m not a shapeshifter, Ford. I can’t just take on my old form when I asked for this new one. It was a favor I’m not comfortable trading in every time I travel between your dimension and mine.”

“I see.” Ford picked up the flask, then put it down again. “So, this is what you look like now? Like a human?”

“It’s just an appearance. I am not human, nor was I ever. Sorry to disappoint.”

“What are you then? Your old form didn’t look like anyone from this dimension.”

“Because I am not from this dimension.” For a moment Jheselbraum looked like she did when a vision came to her. Somewhere in the distance, she saw something. Or maybe remembered. “I am an oracle, Stanford. Let’s leave it at that.”

Ford had the nagging feeling that his interdimensional friend was keeping something from him. He’d looked into oracles after he had met her for the first time. They were immortal beings, capable of seeing into the past, present, or future of anyone they wished. And yet, according to the records he’d stolen from the Glocknoor Archives in dimension 38.1, they typically assumed the appearance of whoever they were before they’d been given the gift.

And they were always given the gift by someone. All oracles, at some point in time, had been mortal.

Ford looked up at the tapestry hanging on the wall in front of him. The pink stitching of the amphibian creature made it seem more abstract, but the Cosmic Axolotl - the deity countless dimensions worshiped as a god of knowledge and benevolence - was without a doubt real. 

If he were real, why did he let Bill Cipher kill so many?

Jheselbraum followed his gaze to the tapestry.

“The one who lent you the favor?” Ford joked.

“How did you guess?”

“What, really?” 

“The Axolotl is my patron. I thought that was obvious enough.”

“You have a private line with the Axolotl.”

Jheselbraum shrugged. “It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. He checks in once in a while.”

“Some say he’s the most powerful being there is.”

“Well, I doubt that’s true, the multiverse is too vast of a place. But he is powerful.” 

Suddenly his reluctance to bother her was gone, emboldened by the new information. “Back when we first met, you said Bill had tricked you. Or that he didn’t mean to trick you, but-”

“That’s a long story, Stanford.”

“But-”

“And I don’t believe now is a good time to talk about that.” Her reply was curt.

Ford sighed. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Jheselbraum sighed. “I’m not upset, I’m simply-” Suddenly she froze, staring off into the distance. In the dim light, it was almost like her eyes were glowing. “You want to be getting back.”

“What? Why?”

“Your family needs you. Right about now I believe.” She stood up to look for the dimensional scissors, only to find them on a higher shelf than she was able to reach. “I might have to think this arrangement through,” she muttered, and Ford tried his best not to laugh.

“Here.” He took them from the shelf. “Thank you. Again. I can’t express how much-”

“Yes, yes, I’m very nice and very generous to help you with a potential multi-universal catastrophe,” she said. “Now go.”

—

“Okay, ready?” Dipper asked, holding up Grunkle Ford’s Schrodinger Pistol. Mabel gave him a thumbs up. “How’s it looking?”

Bill peered out into the cavern where they’d last left Waddles (Anti-Waddles? EldrichWaddles? Waddles-thulu? Dipper was gonna have to workshop that name). “Not great! With a whiff of old-man sadness and a slight chance of too much pig.” 

“I’m gonna take it as a ‘pig is in position’.” 

Mabel took out the remaining half of her chocolate bar, and tossed some into the cave, sprinkling a path into the control room. Dipper saw the monster raise its neck, sniffing out the space. Most of its mouths were smeared in a thick layer of chocolate. It skittered toward them, and Dipper tightened the grip on the gun. He knew how to use it, no problem. He’d tested it on a coffee cup earlier. It would be fine, right?

Having reached the last crumb, Waddlesthulu’s eyes looked up at Mabel, who held up the last piece, grinning triumphantly. 

The pig heads oinked in unison and rushed toward her. Dipper pulled the trigger. 

SCREEE!

He missed. The ball of light hit a can of beans on the shelf behind the monster. A blue cube formed around it and clattered to the ground. 

Dipper had exactly two seconds to think oh shit before the creature rushed them. Dipper dove to the side. He saw Mabel frantically searching her pockets for more chocolate and coming up empty.

But the pig was done with the chocolate, having already picked its next target. It scurried toward Bill, slobber pooling out of its mouths and onto the ground. 

Bill scrambled back, shrieking: “Great aim, Pine Tree!”

“Shut up! This is hard!”

Dipper aimed the pistol again and pulled the trigger.

It gave a pitiful, sputtering sound. 

“Any moment now, kid!”

Dipper hit the barrel with his fist. 

“Dipper!” yelled Mabel.

Still wrestling with the gun, Dipper watched in horror as the monster snapped one of its jaws at Bill’s foot. Bill yelped and jumped back, only to trip over a loose wire and fall to the ground. He crawled backward until he hit a wall, the panic in his eyes rendering him mute. 

Bill wasn’t a great guy, but even he didn’t deserve to be eaten by twenty pigs. 

The pig head with the longest neck unhinged its jaw, and-

Snapped at the air when Mabel tackled Bill out of the way.

As if by some miracle, the gun in Dipper’s hands made a noise. He pulled the trigger. 

The box, twice the size of a grown man, fell to the ground. No growling or oinking or screeching, it was like the pig had never existed in the first place. 

Dipper rushed toward his sister, dropping the gun. “Mabel?!”

“We’re a-okay!” she called when he came close enough to look her over. Next to her, Bill was yet to get out of the tangle of limbs but said limbs were all still there. Mabel tapped Bill gently on the shoulder. “Bill?”

Bill’s eyes snapped to her, a little wild. “I’m alive,” he said, as a statement of fact.

Then he burst out laughing.

Dipper and Mabel shared a long, concerned look with each other. “Uh,” Dipper tried to reach for him, then chose not to. “You alright, man?”

“Alright? I’m GREAT! FANTASTIC!” Bill got up on shaky feet, still laughing. He wiped a tear from his eye. 

He walked over to the box containing the monster and knocked on it with his foot. “Not bad,” he said, the laughter finally dying down. 

“My plan worked! Told ya!” Mabel grinned. 

“Y-yeah,” Dipper felt his nerves leaving him. He sat on the ground, limbs heavy and unresponsive. They hadn’t faced this much danger since last summer.  

“Kids!” Everyone turned to see Ford emerge from an open portal. “I heard you’re in trouble.” 

Bill let out another jittery giggle. “You’ve got great timing, Fordsy.”

“You! What did you do?!” Ford stomped over to Bill, backing him against the wall. 

“Not that I don’t love being the harbinger of your family’s misery,” Bill said, grinning maniacally. “But as much as you’d hate to admit it, not everything is my fault.”

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford,” Mabel rushed between them and put a calming hand on Ford’s arm. “We took care of it. Right, guys?” 

Before Dipper could say anything, the elevator behind them gave a loud DING, and out stepped a gross, hideous creature covered in mud and brambles. 

Stan’s bloodshot eyes found Bill. “You!”

He stumbled toward his source of misery, only to trip over the shoes still half-glued to his feet.

Bill’s grin vanished. 

“Wow, nice chat! Stay paranoid, Pine Tree, gotta go, bye!” 

—

“Fascinating.” Having transferred the new creature into a more permanent and more quantum-stable holding pen, Ford circled it, taking pauses once in a while to write in his journal.

“Can you fix him, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel looked forlornly through the green-colored forcefield at her mutated pet. The many heads of Waddles gobbled up the chocolate-flavored cereal with the same enthusiasm old Waddles did. Dipper squeezed her shoulder. 

“Well, first we need to figure out how he got like this. And I think I have an idea.” Ford stopped next to Mabel and crouched down. He pointed his pen at the outline of the pig. “These colorful optical patterns on the outside, do they remind you of something?”

“Y-yeah…” Mabel’s eyes widened in realization, “That’s just like the sky in…”

The Nightmare Realm.

—

He’d known the old man was hiding something from him.

The cold wind picked up, and Bill shivered, even in the thick knitted sweater. He trudged through the trees, finding his footing in the near-darkness through the power of sheer stubborn will. 

Mabel Pines. She was a tricky one, and unlike his brother, hard to pin down on what she wanted at any given moment. Mabel Land was one of his best concoctions, and it hadn’t worked, which meant he was gonna have to bide his time and figure her out. 

For now, he would have to play nice. He could play nice. 

Bill stumbled into the clearing. The rift shone through the temporal field in all its multicolored glory, crackling with energy. The field itself was probably the work of Seven Eyes, but that wasn’t a problem.

Bill reached through the field, feeling his arm press against the artificial time dilation inside. He had no idea if this would even work. He was gonna have to play it by ear.

If there was anything Bill Cipher was good at, aside from, well, lots of things, it was playing it by ear. 

His fingertips touched the rift, and the whole world exploded in color and sound. He reeled back, only to realize he was falling backward. 

And then everything was black and white. 

Bill Cipher looked down at the body on the ground, the body he’d been imprisoned in for so long. The mindscape opened up around him, washing the world in a familiar twisting greyscale.

And he laughed.

---

[next]

[prev]

[first]

[universaln0b0dy]

Bully twist au v.s reader (untouchable) part 5

《Summary》: Through an potion accident you become invisible and decide to get revenge for the way they treated you. Betraying them out of the nothingness just like they had done to you.

《Note》: inspired by @.azulsluver. Also proceed with caution.

Ace+Deuce: haunted house

It hurt. You thought they were your friends, but they betrayed you in more than one way. You hated them for this. How dare them turn their back on you out of the blue.

You sniffle into your knees before looking over the potion assignment. Because of the fact that your eyes were blurry you couldn't read what stood on the assignment anymore, but you still worked on it, aggressively throwing the ingredients into the pot, pretending you were growing stuff at your former best friend.

"Take that for spilling all my secrets!" You smash another ingredient into the pot, not realising it was the incorrect one and the liquid exploded.

"Have you seen the prefect?" Ace mutters looking and Deuce both of them waiting in front of Ramshackle. You hadn't shown up to class for two days now and it bothered them.

They weren't able to see your face, your cute little face, that tear filled eyes every time they laughed at you. It was almost like you had disappeared from the face of earth.

Ace was about to knock again, before his face was smashed against the door. He snaps his head towards Deuce.

"WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT FOR?" He screams accusingly while Deuce looks at him in confusion.

"I didn't do anything!" Deuce exclaims rushing over to Aces side, before an unknown force pushed him back. It was as if there was an invisible wall trying to keep them separated.

Something punched Deuce right into the face, multiple times, leaving him with a bloody nose. That's what he got for destroying your notebooks, spilling his coke on you and punching you in the face.

Ace on the other hand had to deal with diffrent punishment. You threw his school books into the mud, stomping on them before pressing Ace into the mud.

The two boys don't know what's happening to them and you don't give them the opportunity to catch a break until you decide that it's enough for today. You had given each of them a very special taste of their own medicine.

But that wouldn't be the end. As a ghost, that's how you called it, you had everything you needed to plan out the perfect revenge, though it hadn't been exactly your idea.

You knew you had a week to do everything you needed before you would become back visible. A week was enough. After all they had only taken a week to destroy your reputation.

You used the second day to expose their secrets. No matter what they had told you, everything would be given to someone else. You really felt icky because of that, but it was a revanche for what they had done.

You purposefully leave out secrets that could connects you to them of course. You spread them through letters, letters you drop in lockers, send through Classrooms and even go your way out to whisper it into other peoples ears.

Wich meant, second day, spreading rumours was done. You let yourself fall onto your bed feeling amazing. Mentally you prepare yourself for the third day.

Haunt Ace and Deuce softly. Despite you being ruff with them right on the first day you decided that you would keep it slow for now. You sometimes made Ace trip, make Deuce drop all of his Books, or change answers on their tests.

Well it was small stuff, nothing that could make someone think their haunted.

On the 4rth day you decide that you would start dropping hints to your identity.

You plopped a sandwich onto Deuces desk out of the blue and not just any kind. It was your favourite sandwich. The sandwich he always stole from you or threw into the dirt, ignoring your growling stomach. You started to drop more and more sandwiches and Deuces head until he was covered in them, salad hanging in his hair and butter sticking to his face.

For Ace you had something else planned, dropping cold water on him the moment he entered a new Classroom. He had started to pull such prank on you and you really hated him for that.

He pulled this prank on a real cold day, forcing you to have to run through the freezing wind, not even bothering to help you in any way.

On the 5th day you decide that you would top what you had done on the 4rth day, making Deuce trip over and over again, having him have a blue jaw after a while. In the middle of class you decide that maybe Ace should dance. He had used his magic to make you do embarrassing things too! He deserved it!

On the 6th day you lure them into Ramshackle, locking them in the most coldest room you could find without any light. They had done that to you too! They could of course just free themselves but you wouldn't be there to see that, busier with making Ramshackle become a haunted house.

The seventh day you aren't even in NCR, you having talked with your friend who would just claim that you were with them the whole week you were gone.

Despite what you expected the two gossiping hadn't been able to free themselves out of the room wich means when you open the door to the locked Ramshackle room, you see them sit together shivering in fear.

"PREFECT! W-why didn't you ever tell us that R-ramshacklewas haunted?" Deuce mutters, fully believing it was a ghost that had tormented them. You smile behind your hand.

"What do you mean? Its always been a haunted house?"

_____________

Epel: The ghost in me

Epel, how should you describe him? Maybe we should start with his toxic obsession with masculinity. Yeah, let's start with that. Vil had tried to get him to accept the fact he was a pretty boy and get him to act a bit more well mannered. Maybe this is the reason he always acted so violently with you. In order to deal with the anger.

You giggle sarcastically looking at your body on the floor, the potion pot next to you. Whatever had happened caused your soul to be separated from your body and you found it very funny.

You could float around and do whatever, even possessing people was possible. You frowned a bit as you realised that you couldn't touch anything, but that didn't matter.

The possessing people gave you an amazing idea! Epel had always used you as a punching bag, maybe you should make him yours! Though it would be more of a marionette type of thing.

You float around making your way to the pomefiore dorm, watching Epel eat dinner, suffering under Vils gaze. You laugh again, deciding to humiliate him. He had done that two! He had once or twice grabbed your notebook reading pages out loud, or pushed you around calling you a weak and stupid person.

It was honestly annoying to think about the fact that that used to make you feel bad.

You grab a hold of Epels shoulders, shutting your eyes, before opening them again, seeing everything out of Epels point of view. You start munching on the food like a wild animal, completely forgetting the fact you were supposed to eat the food with a fork and not with your hands. Just before Vil could say something you let go of Epels body, moving away.

You sadly couldn't return to your body for now, but possessing Epel on random occasions, making him get himself into embarrassing situation was enough justice for now.

You had started to appreciate the fact you could leave your body behind and just posses Epel in order to let your anger get the best of you.

But no matter how hard you wanted to show Epel it was you making his life unbearable, you were still just the ghost of you.

___________________

Jade+Jack+Silver: To you who only watched

You decided to disappear from the world for a while, away from all your bullies, away from Crowley and there was no better place than RSA. People might try to deny it, but while the students were just as bad as those at NCR, they at least proved themselves as helpful allies.

"Ah! Hey friend!" You mutter walking over to the shadowy figure that rode the carriage. The figure tapped on their hat with a greeting motion before you step in and ride away.

No one knew about why you disappeared, but the ghost of you hunted the halls. There was nothing that could replace the hole you left. But you didn't care.

It felt great being finally away from all that abuse and be under people that reminded you of mean girls. You mentally chuckle at the thought, before you suddenly get a message.

It was Silver, begging you to come back, simply because of Malleus. He even tried to reason with you that he didn't hurt you. You shake your head sighing.

Silver was one out of three students that thought they could make you come back by saying they had nothing to do with your bullying, but you wanted to avoid them especially.

They had only watched, hadn't they? They didn't help you when you were laying on the floor, bleeding and coughing. None of them helped, the only thing they did was watch.

And this is what you would do. You would watch the school fall into chaos, without lifting a finger.

(Okay! We have the main series settled, but of course we need a grand finale right?)

Next part: A Bully twist au v.s reader, untouchable.

Side story: The secret friend

[sonicfandomsecretsanta]

@suna1suna1 submitted:

Happy Holidays, @comicaldreamer !! 

This was my first time writing a Surgeamy fic, and I had a lot of fun with it. I hope you enjoy it! ^^

I will put a language warning, but aside from that, this is pretty PG, so nothing explicit! Surge just tends to swear a lot XD

The cookies were underdone. Surge cursed at the broken-down oven in the apartment she and Kit had just moved into. Well, they were still moving into it. There were boxes everywhere, items from back at the abandoned Eggman base that they figured they’d bring here. Looking back on it now, Surge was surprised Starline would have let them have personal items. 

Anger zapped between her ears. Well no wonder the damn hypnotism didn’t stick, she thought. We had all this shit lyin’ around that we tied our damn memories to. She growled in disgust, and–before she realized what she was doing–sent an electric shock through the sheet in her hands and fried the cookies on it. The smell of char almost seemed to laugh in her face. 

Shame mixed in with the anger, and she groaned as she threw the cookie sheet onto the counter and walked out of the kitchen. Even now, after his death, Starline seemed to continue to ruin everything. Even nice gestures for the cute girl who’d offered to stop by and help unpack. 

Not that Amy being cute had anything to do with it. Of course not. 

The cookies had actually been Kit’s idea. He’d thought that maybe trying new things would help them find themselves. Not that Surge thought it would work. She didn’t even want to know who she’d been before… before her memories just stopped. 

Okay, maybe she did want to know. Just a little. But that still wasn’t the reason she’d made the cookies. 

When Amy had offered to help Surge and Kit unpack their stuff, Surge had initially thought she wanted to take the opportunity to spy on them, snoop through their stuff. Anybody else would, and Surge would have bet that none of them would have had the decency to admit it either. The Restoration, whatever they thought of themselves, was full of scum just as much as any other place. 

But Amy… She was different. There was something about her that made Surge almost (almost) let down the mile-high walls she’d put up against everyone except Kit. She just seemed so… honest. It… just seemed a shame that she’d do something nice for them and get nothing in return. That and Surge hated the idea of owing anyone anything in that sorry excuse for a charity. Especially if they had any connection to him. 

In fact if she wasn’t so damn close to Sonic, Surge would have been tempted to ask her out. 

Ugh, just thinking of Sonic’s name sent another jolt of anger through her veins. Not just because of that baseline impulse to hate him–though that was certainly a large part of it–but because if it weren’t for him being such a big thorn in Eggman’s side, she wouldn’t be so fucking miserable right now. Starline wouldn’t have been such a desperate fanboy and never would have made her and Kit into what they had become. 

He was the source of everything wrong with her life. 

There was a knock at the door, and Surge took a breath, trying (and failing) to regain her cool. Then she walked over and opened it. 

There she was, sweet as candy, her smile bright as she held out a plate of cookies wrapped in plastic. “I thought we might get hungry after all that work,” Amy said, “so I thought I’d bring cookies too.” 

Well shit. 

Surge sighed and gestured for her to come in. “Just put ‘em on the counter.” 

“Okie dokie,” Amy said. She shivered as she stepped in, her cheeks rosy from the winter cold. “Phew, it’s chilly out there.” 

Surge looked out the window, surprised to find it had started snowing, a thin frost already coating the grass and the sidewalk. “Huh,” was all she said about it. In truth, her memories didn’t go far enough back to see snow. It wasn’t nearly as pretty as everyone seemed to make it out to be. 

Amy shrugged out of her coat, then held it as she looked near the door. “Is there anywhere I can hang this?” she asked Surge.

Surge shrugged, then gestured to the ratty old couch that had remained from the old tenants. “Just dump it on the couch I guess,” she said. “We don’t have a coat rack… Wait… Hey, Kit!” 

The blue fennec popped his head out from the loft, which he’d claimed as his space. He looked down at both of them, Amy with a little disdain, and Surge with no small amount of fear. “Y-yeah?” he asked tentatively. 

“Do we got any coats?”

Kit shook his head. “Starline didn’t give us any. W-why?”

Surge pointed at the window. “Looks like we need some.” 

“Oh…” Kit retreated back into the loft. “But we don’t have the money to buy them, and s-stealing them is probably gonna be more trouble than it’s worth if the Restoration gets involved.” 

“I can get you guys some coats,” Amy offered as she came back over, now coat-less and cookie-less. She beamed with excitement as she looked at Surge. “We could go shopping together! No theft necessary!” 

Surge ignored how her smile made her stomach flutter and crossed her arms. “We don’t want anything from you guys,” she said. 

Hurt flickered across Amy’s face, and Surge tried to ignore that too, despite the pin-prick of guilt that poked her chest from the inside. “But… Just because you guys don’t like the Restoration doesn’t mean you deserve to freeze your tails off either,” Amy said, and Surge wasn’t totally sure if her smile was genuine now or if she was forcing it. “Besides, they wouldn’t be from the Restoration. They’d just be from me.” 

Surge couldn’t stop the blush that spread across her muzzle. “Why do you care, huh?” she demanded, trying to shove the embarrassment down into the pit of her stomach. “Do you just feel sorry for us? Is that it? Well we don’t want your pity!” 

“It’s not pity!” Amy shouted, and Surge blinked in surprise as hurt finally gave way to angry fire in her eyes, her ears folding backwards in fury. “Is it so bad that I just want to see a genuine smile from you? That maybe I like you? I thought that maybe we were getting to be friends but I guess I was wrong!” 

After that, Amy turned around, grabbing a box and opening it, tearing into it a little too forcefully. She ripped off one of the sides entirely, spilling its contents onto the floor with a curse. 

Guilt squirmed in Surge’s belly, but she said nothing as she helped Amy pick up the items from the box. She stole a glance at her, and her eyes widened when she saw tears cascading down Amy’s cheeks. 

“I–I didn’t… I mean…” Surge started, but couldn’t finish. After a moment, Amy stepped back and took a deep breath, wiping her eyes. Surge tried again. “I didn’t mean to–”

Amy shook her head, stopping her. “I need a minute,” she said. She went over and grabbed her coat, then stepped outside the apartment, closing the door behind her. Surge watched as she walked down the sidewalk. 

Fuck… 

“I think she l-likes you,” said Kit, who was peering down from the loft again. 

Surge gave him a look like, yeah right. 

“No, r-really,” he continued. “I mean, w-why else would she have offered to come help us? And bring cookies?”

Surge shrugged. “Because she’s just that much of a goody-two-shoes?” she suggested. 

Kit shook his head. “No. I mean, y-yes, but no. Did you smell her p-perfume?”

“Perfume? She always smells like that.” 

Kit pointed to his nose. “This thing isn’t usually w-wrong,” he said. 

True, Surge thought, though aloud she only grunted. “I mean, why would she worry about that though?” 

Kit sighed. “Like I said, she likes you,” he said. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

That somehow made a bit more sense. But then why the hell would a girl like Amy like a girl like her? 

Before she could ponder it further, there was another knock at the door, and Surge opened it to find Amy once again. Her eyes were a little puffy, and she still looked angry, but not so much that she would rip more boxes. “If you didn’t want my help, then you should have said so,” she said, her voice a little steadier, though it still had a hard edge to it. 

Surge looked down at her shoes, embarrassment sparking around her ears. “I didn’t mean I didn’t want your help,” she said. “I just… Look… We don’t want anything to do with Sonic. We don’t want any help that comes from him. We don’t owe him nothin’, and it’s gonna stay that way.” 

Amy’s ears finally perked back up, her watery eyes widening. “Oh… You guys know Sonic isn’t in charge of the Restoration, right?” she said, her voice softening a little. 

Surge narrowed her eyes. “Of course we do. We ain’t stupid.”

Amy raised her hands in a calm down gesture. “Just checking,” she said. 

“The Restoration rallied around the jack-ass!” Surge said. “Why would I want anything to do with an entire ‘charity’–” she put air quotes around the word “–dedicated to the guy who made me like this?” 

Amy’s brows furrowed. “It’s not Sonic’s fault that Starline ruined your lives,” she said, her voice tight. “Put the blame where it really belongs.” 

Surge opened her mouth to argue, but Amy kept going. 

“You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to. You don’t have to like him. You don’t have to have anything to do with him. But it’s not his fault Starline did any of that. It was Starline’s choice, and so he bears the burden of the blame.” 

Amy opened a box full of plates, wrapped in newspaper to cushion them, and carefully extracted a stack. With wide, challenging eyes, she looked back at Surge. “I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. But I would like it if you would stop insulting my best friend.” 

Surge blushed and looked away, choosing to glare at the gathering snow outside, which was getting thicker. “Fair ‘nuff,” she grumbled. 

Amy sighed. “Okay,” she said. “Now, could you help me with this please?” 

Surge walked over and crouched down, taking out more plates. There were a few points when their fingers brushed together, sending a jolt up Surge’s spine that thankfully didn’t actually shock Amy. But slowly, the tension dissipated, and soon, Amy was talking again. It wasn’t about anything important, but it seemed as if she hated the silence enough that she was up to talk about just about anything. 

Not that Surge minded. It was… nice. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d just… chatted with someone like this. Maybe she never had. 

After a couple hours, the girls sat on the couch. There was still quite a bit of unpacking to do, but some of it was Kit’s, and they were letting him sort through and find the stuff he wanted to put away. 

“I saw the burnt cookies earlier,” Amy said, and there was that adorable smile again, though now there was an edge of mischief to it. 

Surge cleared her throat. “Uhh… Yeah? What about them?” 

“Did you try to do something nice for me?” Amy’s eyes were sparkling with… hope? 

Surge swallowed, then looked away. Her face felt as if it were on fire as she–slowly–nodded. 

“Awwwww,” Amy cooed. “That’s so sweet.” 

“Yeah, but I fucked it up,” Surge grumbled. 

“Hey, look at me.” 

Surge did, and her smile made her want to melt into a pile of green and black goo right then and there. She couldn’t help looking at her lips–because of her smile, she told herself. Not because she wanted to kiss her. Absolutely not. 

Well, okay. Maybe a little. 

“It’s the thought that counts,” Amy said. “And besides, I brought non-burnt cookies, so it’s fine. In fact…” She stood up. “How about we take a cookie break? I think we deserve it.” 

She reached out a hand to help Surge up off the couch, and after a moment, her smile melted, just a little. Surge panicked and took her hand suddenly, having been too shocked to register the gesture at first. 

When Amy’s hand let go, Surge had to resist the urge to grab it again, to keep holding it, as if that one action could put herself at ease, at least for a little while. 

They both walked into the kitchen and took a few cookies from the plate. They were quiet at first, both waiting for the other to say something. This was a different kind of silence from earlier. There was something stretched taut between the girls; something that might have been obvious to one and completely overwhelming and terrifying to the other. Both of them waited tensely for the other to address it. 

“So…” Amy finally began, and there were smears of chocolate chips around her mouth that Surge was resisting the urge to wipe away. “Was there any particular reason you decided to make cookies for me?” 

Surge tilted her head towards Kit, who sat in the middle of the living room floor. “It was the kid’s idea,” she said. “But I mean… You were doing somethin’ cool for us, so I thought… I’d do somethin’ cool for you. I uhh… kinda fried them though.” 

Amy looked at the charred cookie remains that were now at the top of the trash can. “I can tell,” she said with a giggle. “That’s really sweet though.” 

Surge nodded, unsure how to respond, and they slipped into silence again, just as if not more unbearable than the last. She became much more keenly aware of Amy’s scent, that rosy, flowery kinda smell, and wondered why she hadn’t realized it wasn’t just her normal smell before. It had that earthy perfume-y-ness to it that seemed rather obvious now. 

She was so distracted by the smell that she hadn’t noticed Amy had come over to her side of the counter. She was close, and Surge’s stomach fluttered at the shy smile she was giving her. 

“Can I kiss you?” Amy whispered. 

Surge’s eyes went wide, her heart pounding. “You want to?” she asked, stunned. 

“I mean, yeah. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” 

Surge swallowed. “Are you sure?”

Amy nodded. 

“Okay…” Surge said, her voice shakier than she would have liked to admit. “I’ve uh… never kissed a gal before. Or… well, I don’t think.” 

Amy giggled. “No biggie,” she said. “Me either. First time for everything, right?” She sounded as nervous as Surge felt, which put her a little at ease.

Surge took a breath and nodded. Slowly, Amy leaned in, her eyes closed. After a moment, Surge leaned in to meet her. 

The moment their lips met, it felt like there was a whole lightning storm in Surge’s belly, sparking heat in her face and her ears. There was a little crackle, and she pulled away sharply. “Did I shock you?” she asked quickly. Amy looked startled as she shook her head, and Surge sighed with relief. “Okay,” she said. 

“I heard a little snap. What was that?” 

Surge shrugged. “Might have been my ears,” she muttered. 

Amy smiled at her. “Well…” she said. “I think your ears were rude for interrupting that. Should we… keep going?” 

Surge laughed. Then they resumed. 

Suffice to say, it took a little longer to get the unpacking done than they originally thought. 

[1-beansss-1]

~ Open wounds part 5 ~

Teen gn!reader

Simon petrikov apocalypse fic

Warning - mentions of blood, death, and injuries

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You let out a sigh as soon as she was out of sight, you were exhausted and the wounds on your abdomen hurt badly. Simon looked over at you. He couldn't help but worry.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine.."

Your voice sounded harsh. You put your guard up now that it was just the two of you. You stared daggers into him, making him look a bit nervous.

"Um.. you know.. you don't have to be scared or-"

"Scared?"

You laughed at him and got up, walking towards him.

"You think I'm scared of you? Ha! That's funny, old man.. why would I be scared of you?'

You laughed as you got closer to him. He stepped back and put his hands in front of him.

"No, I-"

"What.. were you going to tell me it's alright? Hold me in your arms while I cried.. so you could just stab me in the back and steal my stuff?"

You were standing right in front of him now, stabbing your finger into his chest as you talked. He took a step back with each jab you gave him. You were speaking from experience and didn't notice yourself tearing up.

"Y/N, I-"

"SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING HEAR IT!"

You threw your hands up as you yelled at him. You quickly grabbed your bag and stormed off. He tried to follow you, but you quickly stopped, turning around. He could see you crying, but your expression was full of hate.

"DON'T FUCKING FOLLOW ME!"

You quickly turned back around and started to walk quicker. He stood there watching you leave. He tried not to take anything you said by heart, but it still stung. You violently wiped your tears away as you walked.

"Stupid.. stupid.. stop crying you fucking idiot.."

You insulted yourself and felt a tug at your pants.

"Y/N.. where are you going? You're not leaving, are you.."

You looked down to see Marceline tearing up. You quickly bent down and tried to smile at her.

"N-No.. I just needed to take a walk.. I'm not leaving.."

You clenched your teeth when you finished speaking. You were trying to stop crying. You didn't want her to see you like this.

"Are you ok? You're crying!"

"I'm not crying.."

You sniffled and wiped your face, your hands shook as you did this. Marceline quickly hugged you.

"It's alright..."

She said softly, trying to comfort you and you started to tear up even more.

"I.. I told ya.. I.. I'm not crying.."

You said in between sobs, You hated to let her see you like this. Marceline looked up at you and smiled.

"It's ok to cry, I cry too!"

You let out a weak laugh at her words. She was so adorable. You choked down the rest of your tears and wiped your face again.

"I'm sorry, Marcy... um.. Let's go back. You got the things I asked for, right?"

You said, quickly regaining your composer and smiling at her.

"Yeah, I got a lot!"

"Good.. Now let's make a fire!"

You quickly got up and looked at the ground next to her. There was a pile of papers and sticks. You gathered them up, carrying them in one hand and grabbed Marceline hand.

"FIRE!"

she yelled excitedly. The two of you rushed back to the house, Simon was leaning against the wall, with a crown held tightly in his hands.

"SIMON!"

She quickly let go of your hand and ran to him, reaching for the crown.

"Simon, don't! There's no danger.."

"I-I was just looking at it.."

He quickly put it back on his belt and looked over at you. You huffed and walked past him. You were still annoyed with him. You didn't like seeing that little interaction between the two of them.

"Come on, Marcy.."

You said in a tone a little colder than what you usually used for her. You sat your bag down where the firewood was.

"Oh, right! Fire!"

She quickly started to follow you back to the pile of logs you made for the fire. You dropped the stuff next to the soon to be campfire and sat down. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the lighter. You sat it down beside you and started to stuff the paper into the pile of logs, Marceline watched you. When you were finished, you picked the lighter back up and grabbed a piece of paper.

"Alright, fire time.."

You mumbled as you lit the paper on fire. You watched the paper burn in your hands for a moment, letting the fire get close to your fingers.

"Y/N...."

Marceline sounded nervous. You looked over at her, throwing the paper into the pile.

"Did you think I was going to burn myself?"

You let out a chuckle and turned back to the growing fire. You blew on it slightly to build the flame.

"Yeah.."

She grabbed your hand and squeezed it tightly. You smiled at her and ruffled her hair.

"It's alright.. I'm not going to hurt myself.."

You stood up and looked over at the meat. You had to start cooking it soon. You unhooked a pan that you had on your bag and then dug around in your bag for some sort of spatula. You sat gently sat down the pan on the fire and grabbed a chunk of meat.

"You gonna help me?"

You smiled at her as you gently sat the meat down in the pan.

"Yeah! What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to find four tall sticks, I need it so I can make a drying rack... ask him to help you, alright?"

When you were done speaking, you turned your attention back to the pan. You wanted to be alone for a moment and just focus on cooking. She nodded and gave you a hug.

"Ok, Y/N.. don't leave while we're gone.."

She huffed, obviously still a little insecure about you leaving. You patted her head, not looking away from the pan.

"I won't.. I promise"

She let go of you and ran towards Simon, telling him what you needed. You sighed, glancing up at them. You saw Simon pick up Marceline. He looked over at you before leaving.

"Alright.. time to gather my thoughts.."

You mumbled to yourself as you poked the meat on the pan with your spatula, trying to keep it from sticking.

"You can't be losing your temper.. or crying in front of them.. ok? I can't show any weakness.."

You continued and flipped the meat.

"If we need a break, we'll take a little walk.. hopefully they won't follow me.."

You stared at the pan for a moment and let out a sigh, putting a hand on your head, brushing your hair back.

"It's strange having people around.. can't talk to myself.."

You let out a laugh at your own words and you heard Marceline and Simon coming back.

"Put on a brave face.."

You said quietly as you looked over at the two. They were talking amongst themselves but you didn't really pay attention to their words. Marceline looked over at you and ran over to you with a big smile.

"We got the sticks! What now?"

"Thank you.. I'll set it up.."

You grabbed your bag and pulled out some fishing line. You walked over to Simon who was carrying the sticks.

"Um.. here you go.. do you need help?"

He reached them out to you and you quickly pulled them out of his hands. You stuck them in the ground and tied the fishing line on them, making a makeshift place to hang the meat.

"Guess not.."

Simon chuckled nervously.

"I can help with the cooking if you'd like.."

You walked back to the pan and sat down in front of it, not looking at him. He walked over to the fire and sat down, he made sure he wasn't too close to you so he wouldn't make you uncomfortable. Marceline could feel the tension between you and Simon. She sat down and faced you.

"Y/N.. what's wrong?"

"Nothing, I'm fine.."

"You don't like Simon.. do you?"

You sighed softy at her question, you knew if you answered truthfully she wouldn't be happy.

"Um.. he's alright.."

"Simon's nice! You can trust him!"

She whined, tugging at the end of your sleeve. She desperately wanted the two of you to get along.

"M-Marcy, it's alright if they don't like me.."

Simon smiled at her, he didn't want you to feel like you had to like him.

"But Simon.."

You patted her head and smiled, keeping your eyes on the pan.

"I'm just not that good with new people.. give me time alright?"

"You're ok with me.."

You sighed, you started to feel guilty that you didn't like Simon, she obviously cared for him a lot.

"Marcy.."

Simon said a little more sternly, he was trying to get her to drop it, he didn't want you to stress out about it. Marceline crossed her arms and looked at Simon.

"I want you too to get along!"

She whined. Simon sighed and started to notice that it was getting dark.

"Marcy, it's getting dark, aren't you tired?"

He asked, trying to change the subject. He also wanted her inside before it got too late.

"No.. I'm not tired"

She yawned as she talked.

"Yeah, you totally sound wide awake"

You said, laughing a bit.

"I am!"

She huffed and yawned again. Simon stood up and put his hands on his hips.

"Alright, little lady, time for you to go to bed"

"Fine.."

She reluctantly got up and Simon took her inside the house. You figured he was going to sleep too so you opened your bag, putting out a bottle of whiskey. You opened the bottle and took a drink, hoping to help some of the pain. You sat the bottle next to you and let out a sigh.

"Harsh.."

You grumbled, looking at the bottle, it was half empty. It was full when you first found it. Simon walked back out after a couple of minutes and saw the bottle next to you.

"Aren't you a little young to drink that stuff?"

"You're not my dad.."

You grumbled as you took another drink of it, making a face as it touched your tongue.

"Y-Yeah.. just uh.. don't drink the whole bottle.."

He said with concern in his voice. You were already feeling a bit tipsy after sipping on it a bit.

"Shut up, old man.. I don't like you.."

You let out a sigh and Simon sat down next to you.

"Mabye, you should slow down.."

"Fuck off.. it's helping with the pain.."

You huffed and looked over at him. He'd almost forgotten about your injuries because you acted like nothing was wrong.

"A-Are you alright!?"

"It.. It hurts.."

You said, clutching the bottle in your hands. You started to tear up and put the bottle up to your mouth, chugging it. Simon quickly pulled the bottle away from you, trying not to let any spill.

"Hey, Hey.. slow down! You don't want a hangover.."

"Simon.. I.. I miss my dad.. a-and my sister.."

You tucked your legs into your chest, you were an emotional drunk and you couldn't help but cry.

"What were they like?"

He said, scooting closer to you. You leaned over onto him and sighed.

"My sister was a lot like Marcy.. and my dad.. he.. he taught me everything.. how to hunt.. butcher.. cook.."

You sniffled a bit and covered your face.

"I miss them so much.. and.. and.. I hurt and.. Groddammit, you're too close to me!"

You moved away from him, your guard went back up. He let out a soft sigh, he thought he was making progress with you, even if you were drunk.

"I don't trust you! I can't.. I.."

You leaned over on your bag, you were a drunken mess. Simon moved closer to you and put a hand on your sholder.

"It's alright... you don't have to right away.."

"I.. I want to but...."

You paused and yawned loudly.

"You should rest.. sleep off the alcohol.."

"No.. no I'm cooking.."

"I can handle that.. you should sleep.."

You shook your head and tried to stay awake, but you fell asleep shortly after. Simon let out a quiet sigh and took the spatula from you hand. He cooked the meat for the rest of the night.

You woke up in the morning to Simon hanging up the cooked meat on the fishing line. You remembered what happened last night and groaned, you didn't like that you opened up to him.

"Stupid drunk me..."

You grumbled and Simon turned to look at you. He smiled at you and stopped what he was doing, walking over to you.

"Morning.. how's your head?"

"Fine.."

You grumbled and stood up. You walked past him and started to hang up the cooked meat, he followed you.

"That's good.. um.. how are you holding up?"

He ask, putting a hand on your back and looking at your face. You quickly shoved him away from you.

"Look, just because I got drunk and whined doesn't mean we're magically ok.."

"Right.. of course"

He smiled at you, he was glad that you were actually talking too him, instead of yelling.

"Come on, make yourself useful.."

You huffed and handed him some meat. He nodded and quickly got to work. With him helping you, you got done quickly and let out a sigh.

"Um.. what now?"

Simon asked, stepping away from the makeshift drying rack.

"We wait... it will take a day.."

<<< first part / << previous / next >>

[rosetintedgunman]

Muse Update: Five Years

"Wilford?"

"Yessee?"

"There aren't any events booked for the today in the Roller, correct?"

"Correct."

"And there aren't any visitors celebrating a birthday?"

"People? Not that I know of."

"So then why are you hanging birthday balloons all over the place?"

"Oh, these?" Wilford turned around, holding two "5 Today!" balloons - one in pink and one in blue, "Ya wouldn't understand. I’m itchin’ ta see a lot of th’ number 5 today. It’s a reaaal quirky number when ya stop an’ look at how it’s made up."

Every single staff member knew the owner of the Roller was an odd - but nice - man, and they had learned fast not to question anything further if they didn't get a proper answer. And so, they didn’t ask further. It wouldn’t be worth the inevitable confusion.

But once the staff member walked off, Wilford chuckled to himself as he threw a glance in your direction.

“Not often I remember dates on time,” he quietly began, “but I’m gettin’ better at it. Memory’s a loooot better than it used ta be too - didn’t think that’d be a sentence I’d ever say. Havin’ y’all comin’ by has helped with that, y'know. Whether yer folks who stuck ‘round, or yer someone who used ta be here an’ then left. Doesn’t matter, really. It’s th’ point of bein’ here in th’ first place. And if this place is nothin’ more than somewhere fer ya ta stop by on yer way ta greener pastures, or some sorta steppin' stone ta better things… then so be it. At least ya came in ta say hi.”

The two balloons finally stayed on the wall, and Wilford could put his hands on his hips to admire his handiwork. “It’s not really a cause fer celebration, just like anythin’ can be a cause fer celebration. This isn’t gonna be one of those ‘ask me anything’ events, or one of them posts recallin’ things that happened an' gettin' all nostalgic fer things that have been gone fer years. It’s not th’ time or th’ place fer things like that. Ya stick up a few balloons, laugh at th’ fact this blog can go ta school now, an’ then ya carry on with yer day. Ya might even make an amused hum at th’ times this blog has lined up with canon appearances, but most of ya won’t get that one, I’m afraid.”

At last, he turned around to face you. You could catch a hint of a smile under his moustache, but his expression was not as bubbly as it normally would be. Or… At least you thought it was. You blinked, and the mischief was sparkling in his eyes.

“But what ya can do is do somethin’ good fer yerself. I’ve been told it’s the solstice too! Longest day of th' year 'round these parts! Y’ve got HOURS ta mess ‘round an’ do stuff. Go ‘cause a bitta trouble. My treat. An’ anyway, who’s gonna stop ya? A broody edgelord who can only give sulky monologues? Some weirdo in red who’ll stomp his foot an’ complain ‘bout a script? Maybe a robot who doesn’t like humans so why would he bother stoppin’ ya? Go onnn. Have some fun today. What’s life fer if ya can’t have a bitta madness in it?”

[dark-arts-and-crafts-universe]

A Dying Art (Chapter 17)

A Dying Art

Lorcan Verdigris is a time wizard, a misanthrope, and a single father to a household of magically-sentient furniture.

Lorcan Verdigris is not a necromancer. Anymore. But when the leader of the  local necro coven comes to him with a request he really, really can’t  refuse, past collides with present and he finds himself back in a world  he’d tried to leave behind. Someone is trying to steal a powerful  magical artifact, one whose destruction could unleash chaos upon the  city. Or save it from an even greater danger. Or do nothing at all. Who  knows. See, this is exactly why Lorcan stopped messing with the stuff.

Unfortunately,  one way or another, Lorcan’s the one stuck dealing with it. He’d like  to say this is a challenge that will take all his magic and his  ingenuity to overcome, but let’s be real, stopping this threat will take  something even more dire: actual effort. At least he’s getting paid  this time…

Previous | Table of Contents

Chapter 17: What Remains

Word count: 3,618

Content warnings: no major content warnings

So this is the last chapter of A Dying Art! I’ve been really nervous about posting this, wanted to make sure it was as good as it could be to end the story strong. I do plan to write more with these characters and universe (because wow is there a lot more story to tell) but this work represents the first major chunk of Lorcan’s arc. If you’ve stuck around until the end, thank you so much! I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it.

-

Osiris did live up to their promise to pay him if he survived. They even threw in extra to cover expenses. Lorcan got the letter in his mail five days after the mall battle–he almost didn’t check until the kids pestered him about it. Alongside the cash was another message. It read: Darken my GameStop one more time, Lorcan Verdigris.

The normal people were definitely staring when Lorcan entered the mall. He couldn’t blame them–he’d found a big stick in the small patch of grass outside and was regularly jabbing it into the walls on the off-chance something started breathing. He tossed five rocks onto the escalator before deciding it was (probably) safe.

Of course, if the mall was still evil and liminal, his time sense would be killing him again and everything there was comfortably usual. So. His slipshod plan had worked, then. The scenesters hadn’t connected the mall dimension back to their plane of existence, and Osiris hadn’t taken the space for themselves. Maybe this incident wasn’t entirely over, but some things were back to the way they’d been.

“You did not bring your familiar this time,” Osiris’s voice greeted Lorcan as he stepped into the shop.

“Well, fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice and I really will irradiate you to death.”

“We see,” they said, then: “That was not Dexter’s death curse.”

If Lorcan was a little bit snippy, it was because he was still catching up on sleep from the week before. He ran a hand through his hair, then asked, “Did you summon me to your shop to say things we both already knew?”

Because, duh. Dexter Young would never bury anything important in a place he and Lorcan had explored together. His trust extended just far enough to let him help with the mostly-useless first attempt, ten years ago.

But, “The prototype looked close enough to fool the others.”

“Not us, however.”

Yes. Osiris had all of Dexter’s memories. That was how that worked.

“I didn’t need to fool you,” he told them. “I just needed to get you in a position where it benefitted you to play along. The fight had been going long enough I figured you’d want it stalled, if nothing else.”

And they nodded slowly, like Lorcan had given them something they needed. “An intriguing gambit.”

There was almost a note of respect in their voice–exactly what Lorcan had hoped wasn’t going to happen. Aside from the ethical implications…he’d only been able to get the drop on Osiris because they’d underestimated him. He would bet that wasn’t going to happen in the future.

“Not without its consequences, of course,” the Crown said, probably thinking the same. “What you gained from the ploy must have been worth the risk.”

Not this again, Lorcan thought, pretending very suddenly to be interested in one video game on the shelf in front of him about…cars? “I thought my demands were clear enough. My son, and the petty, fleeting thrill of victory symbolized by a pair of overpriced shoes.”

Osiris let out a hum.

Before that hum could turn into a barbed comment, or worse a question, he added, “So I guess you won the fight, then? I mean, this place looks less hell-dimension than last time.”

He couldn’t say things seemed entirely normal–he was studiously avoiding the new, very artistic posters the Crown had added to the decor since last time–but it was still Osiris’s store, so he had to assume things had worked out for them.

“More or less,” they answered, with a tilt of their head. “After your…outburst, you could say the adrenaline of the moment had dimmed. The Dominion sought respite for their injuries–”

“Who the fuck is the Dominion?”

“The ‘scene crowd’. Their collective nom de guerre,” Osiris told him. They frowned. “They had a monologue about it when the fight began. Were you not there for that?”

“No, I was busy being left for dead,” he said.

“Ah.” They gave it a second’s thought and moved on, “The Dominion broke to in-fighting soon after you left–petty complaints about being ‘frightened’ and ‘dying’. It was as if they had not yet considered murdering a powerful necromancer might involve some degree of personal consequence. We know that you would never be so foolish.”

And Lorcan flinched at that, because it was true in exactly the way he didn’t want Osiris to think about. “They seemed pretty young,” he offered.

“In years, they did not differ much from you. In maturity…” They nodded once. “Their worldview is very much marked by youth: the old is worthless, everything must be fresh, new.”

“...like the New Osiris?”

A scowl. “That was part of the monologue, yes. A quite vainglorious sobriquet–the name Osiris is not for any common ruler to claim. It belonged to a truly admirable individual.”

Lorcan did not resist the urge to roll his eyes. “You know,” he drawled, “some people would pretend to be humble.”

The look of unamusement on Osiris’s face was expected. But it seemed different from usual. Somehow more solemn. “We mean the first Osiris. Contrary to popular belief, we chose the name out of respect.”

He turned that over in his head. The first necromancer in the area to call himself Osiris was before Lorcan’s time. But he did know the stories. “He convinced his enemies to merge their covens together,” he said, working through the thought. “No enchantments–supposedly–no shows of force. Just words and charisma.”

“Osiris the First achieved through will alone what for others required powerful magic.”

“And you…admire that?” he had to ask. Osiris (the Second) did value hard work, and skills separate from magic. The GameStop was proof of that.

What Osiris (the Second) didn’t bother with was charisma. Needing people, trusting people–Lorcan had seen their lip literally curl enough to know their disgust at the thought. The necromancer souls that made up the gestalt had needed people, and they’d failed to achieve anything close to the first Osiris. He’d think, with their ego, that would more likely lead to envy.

“You admire someone,” he repeated.

“We do have a heart, Verdigris,” they said. “On occasion it is capable of positive emotion.”

“So is this–” Lorcan pointed at himself, then the Crown, and the store. “--one of those rare moments of gratitude, then? Because I saved your ass back in that fight?”

There was the lip. “Whatever minor assistance you rendered was, truly, unnecessary in the grander scheme of things.” They paused. “But, as the opportunity did arise, we decided acquiescing to a momentary stalemate would allow us to allocate our remaining stamina for this upcoming shift. Besides which, the ritual circle had been damaged in the battle somehow.”

“Oh?”

“The liminal death dimension still exists,” Osiris explained, “but its connection to our own plane has been frayed. A new bridge would need to be built before the space is again usable.”

Little victories, Lorcan thought.

“As for the physical Spirit Halloween in this mall,” they continued. “It has vanished as quickly as it appeared. A front the entire time, we assume.”

Osiris let out a small huff of breath, not quite a sigh. It was still more defeated than Lorcan had ever seen them. “A clean victory would have been preferable, though it seems this time that was not quite possible.”

And for a moment, Lorcan could feel a sense of kinship with the wistfulness in the Crown’s voice.

“Things keep happening.” He looked down at his hands. “You don’t want to be the one who has to handle them. But you’re the one who’s there and that means it’s up to you. It sucks.”

“Indeed. ‘Uneasy lies the head that wears the’…” They trailed off mid-quote, and pointed to their crown upon their head. A soft, halfway-chuckle slipped out of their mouth. “True rest escapes us still. The Dominion’s fiendish accountancy knows few bounds.”

“I thought you’d have dealt with that by now.”

“You know as well as we that the advent of online shopping was the dagger in the metaphorical intestine of the American mall,” they informed him. “It bleeds slow, but death is certain.” Sad silhouettes of signage flashed into Lorcan’s mind. Empty halls and dusty floors.

“The only locations turning a profit at this complex are this GameStop and–” Osiris let out a disgusted shudder. “--the Hot Topic. Pre-orders alone may not be enough. We will likely need to devote even greater attention to this job simply to hold the line. We may even have to cut down on our extracurricular murders.”

Hm. “That’s rough.”

“Yes. We must all make sacrifices in this trying time.” Then, after a pause, “Or rather, some of us must make fewer sacrifices. But the time of separating business from magic, at least, is at an end.”

Lorcan wouldn’t say no to less extracurricular murder, but it was overall a somber statement. A lot of necromantic status quo in the area was going to get upheaved. It might, emphasis on might, work out better for the locals for a new enemy to distract Osiris’s attention. But there was a lot of new room for innocents to get caught in the crossfire.

It had been the same way back before the Crown had merged into a necromantic gestalt, and Lorcan didn’t know what he, as one mid-tier wizard, could do to stop it.

“You did not answer our question, Verdigris.”

They were doing this, then? They were really doing this. “I’m pretty sure I did, actually,” he said. Argumentative, but there was no helping that.

“We wish to hear why you did what you did that night.”

“You know damn well why,” Lorcan snapped. “Is it really so confusing I might want to protect my children? My children who I love?”

“Perhaps.” Osiris raised an eyebrow. “It is such a feeble, human emotion, after all.”

Yeah, he didn’t buy that. “I’ve heard you do have a heart on occasion.”

It was too easy an answer: the evil, inhuman villain who does evil things because they don’t feel love. Better than admitting your old friend had just stopped caring. No, for all Osiris insisted they were no longer mortal and weak, their evil was human enough. Something about the specifics of Lorcan’s family did seem to be tripping up their inestimable wisdom. But it wasn’t that.

Osiris liked to avoid emotion. Lorcan knew firsthand that didn’t stop you from feeling it.

“And you know what,” he threw out like a challenge, “you never answered my question: did you call me here just to talk about things we both already know?”

The words were more confident than he felt, and Osiris stared at him, eyes piercing, stance sure. Lorcan tried not to shift, not to fidget. Whatever they were looking for, they were only going to see what he’d already explained. For a moment, he could see hesitation flickering in the dark of their eye.

When the Crown finally spoke, they said, “Dexter was surprised when you began calling yourself a father.”

And how could Lorcan respond to that except, “I was, too.” It was a vulnerable admission, and for once, Osiris didn’t press their advantage.

The feeling in the silence that fell prickled at his neck. It was almost like…uncertain smalltalk back in Belial’s tattoo parlor. A kind of verbal joust he still didn’t know the rules for. He was missing something big, he just didn’t know what. So there was a moment of relief when the door to the back of the shop opened, enough that he didn’t think to question who could be coming out of it.

There had to be wards hiding Jennifer Lynn’s shimmering spectral form from non-magical eyes. Even in a dying mall, there were too many people who would notice a translucent woman carrying a stack of games to the shelves like she was any normal employee. It was a sign of the upheaval Lorcan had been the unwitting architect of, he thought with a sinking heart. The days of the Crown Osiris’s GameStop being a place safe from magic were over.

Then he saw the person standing behind Jennifer Lynn.

Necromancy made a lot of common idioms hard to say with a straight face. So for Lorcan to say that spotting Kyle, in the flesh, carrying a stack of video games was like ‘seeing a ghost’--well, there was a ghost right in front of him. This was more shocking.

“You are staring,” Osiris noted.

“I’m just surprised to see him still–” Alive. “–employed.”

“Clearly we overestimated his ability to lead independently of our instruction,” they said. “It does not matter. We have long been in need of a footman whom we can provide with much firmer management.”

“And how’s Kyle feel about that?”

“Kyle?” Osiris asked him.

“Super grateful for not being dead, um, your royal magic-ness Opal ma’am!” The kid had a plastered-on smile that looked only halfway fake. “I mean, the new hours suck a bit, but it’s better than food service. Also being a, uh, footman comes with health insurance?”

It sounded more like a question than a statement. Lorcan glanced back at Osiris.

“We bound a wraith into the fabric of his soul to ensure his body will not expire before our use for him has,” they said. “That counts. Honestly, we would not have bothered in the first place,” they added with a wave of their hand. “But Jennifer Lynn saw potential in him.”

The realtor’s shade hadn’t looked at Lorcan since she walked out, almost pointedly ignoring him. It wasn’t until the split second where Osiris turned to examine a display that she met his eyes.

Huh, he thought. How about that?

Lorcan wasn’t going to insult Jennifer Lynn’s intelligence by letting slip any more than a single nod, barely more than a twitch of his neck. But when she pivoted back to her work as if nothing had even been communicated, he thought she got the gist.

It was a bigger favor than Lorcan thought he could ask for. The situation Kyle was in was not ideal by any means. It was a lot of trouble Lorcan didn’t know if he could get him out of. But more achievable than full resurrection–he wasn’t that good a necromancer.

“You will need somebody to keep the shop running,” he said, because anything that kept Osiris from doubting Jennifer Lynn’s judgment was good. “Even if you black-market-gem your way out of debt, the customers are what keep the mall alive in the first place.”

Osiris disfavored him with a sour look. “Why should we surrender our own wealth to fix others’ inadequacies? No, we have found a more ingenious solution to our budgetary distress,” they pronounced, eyes glittering. “We have garnished Kyle’s pay.”

Lorcan glanced over to Kyle. “Hooray for capitalism,” he said.

He shouldn’t even be surprised anymore. Osiris was who they’d always been. As Dexter, as Opal, as the full gestalt. These were all people who would do anything to never need anyone.

Kind of like Lorcan. He took a deep breath. He was trying to be better. “Look, Osiris. This might be out of hand–”

“Then do not say it?”

He pressed on, “But you could consider giving a little more recognition to your underlings. There’s stuff they’re doing that you can’t, or won’t, and it doesn’t hurt you to let them pick up that slack. And maybe,” he added, “if you happen to owe someone for past services rendered, just pay them? I cannot stress enough that you’re a rich person who can do that.”

Osiris hummed to themself, seeming to consider it. “What you are saying is that re-investing in our minions now is the opportune moment to secure more unwavering loyalty in the future. Achieve our goals through mundane manipulation, like our predecessor.”

“No,” he said. “No, do not take this and turn it into a necromancy power grab. I’m trying–I am trying to be nice here, goddammit.”

“We know. It is a strange gesture. It hardly suits our working relationship.”

He sighed. “Yeah.”

“And yet you slave to the impulse in your mortal mind to meddle so. Our nigh-infinite wisdom is at a loss to explain it.” Their voice lilted for a moment, like it was a funny joke. But if they had seemed amused at first, their next words made it clear they were very, very not: “One would think the collateral damage alone from your interferences would deter you.”

Lorcan’s heart stuck in his throat. “Is that a threat?” he asked, and tried to sound confident.

“To your, ah, children? No, we have resolved that to attack ones so frail and helpless no longer befits the dignity of our gestalt. Consider it a courtesy after all you have done for us.”

Sure, he thought. That was the reason.

“No, it was,” and Lorcan knew exactly what the Crown would end that sentence with, “a simple observation. You must know by now that your nature is a poison, rather than a balm. Look at what you have wrought in the last week alone–was any of it ‘good’?”

He didn’t react. He didn’t let himself. His very breath stopped. Osiris was looking for a reaction, and he would not give them the satisfaction.

They smiled, and it was as unkind as anything Lorcan had ever done. “Some people were not made to be helpful, Verdigris. Remember that if you seek to interfere in our affairs again.”

Message received, Lorcan thought, mouth suddenly very dry. “Right,” he said, mechanically. Going through every motion. “It’s been real, Osiris. Corporate must love your progress reports.” He turned to go.

But this time, they didn’t let him leave with the parting shot. “Do you know how a conflict between us would end, Lorcan Verdigris?”

This again? “Yes,” he said tightly.

It was an obvious, obedient answer. So it sent a chill shock through his system when the Crown told him that, “We are no longer so certain. But if need be, we will put the question to the test.”

If there was one thing Lorcan had learned about Osiris, the thing that was new and strange about this person who was almost an almost-friend, it was that they liked their labels. It was their way of making the world predictable. Life and death. Work and magic. Threats and fools.

And if there was power in breaking boundaries, Lorcan might have done the worst thing he could in the long run by establishing himself as a threatening fool.

The unsettled feeling stuck with him all the way back to the apartment. “Hey, you’re still alive,” Vulk said, watching TV.

“Yeah.”

<But it’s done.> Frank flickered his light, letting out a satisfied creak.

“...Yeah.” He looked over to the desk, where Loretta’s light shade had swiveled to peer directly at him. “Loretta. Could…” He trailed off.

Going back to a lazy schedule meant he didn’t have to wear himself down thinking over everything that had happened. It meant he had plenty of time to do it anyway. And some thoughts were less avoidable than others.

His nature…a crafter’s art and their magic reflected who they were. It wasn’t supposed to be as simple as ‘good’ and ‘bad’ types of magic. But maybe Lorcan was just an unlucky jerk with nothing below the surface.

If he was a little nicer, would he have ended up with magic like Kryptonia and her friends, something that created instead of destroyed? A seer knew, at least, what it was they were supposed to do. Whether their actions would help or hurt. He could admit he envied that.

When Lorcan first saw the vision of red, he assumed it meant blood. The consequences of a bad choice. Frustrating, vague, and in the end it had been a clue to something else entirely.

No, despite the hint Lorcan was all alone, making his own choices the best he could. And look how that had gone.

In one week, he’d injured several people in a magic fight, gotten a hapless GameStop employee near-permanently subjugated, and threatened to destroy an entire mall. He’d potentially maneuvered the Crown Osiris into a position of even greater strength if they managed to win this necromantic power struggle. Vision or no, maybe there was going to be blood on his hands after all.

“I need a little more light in my room,” was what he said.

Loretta tilted her lampshade. “Sure thing, Dad,” she replied. “You’ve had a rough day.”

Lorcan took her back into his bedroom and plugged her into the outlet by his bedside table. Once he had, it felt like all the fight drained out of him; he slid down the edge of his bed to the floor, head resting against the table.

“Mad and sad, you said?” he asked softly.

He heard a squeak of metal hinges, then her voice in his head. “You did what you had to.”

“I did,” he said. “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again, if any of you needed it.”

“I know.”

His hands were shaking, and he could still feel the mall’s deathly chill. “I just wish--if my magic wasn’t like this--anybody else would have had other options.” His voice was pathetically weak as he asked, “Why me?”

Loretta didn’t answer, and Lorcan didn’t expect her to. He closed his eyes.

When he woke up hours later, his children had crowded their way into the bedroom, entertaining themselves with soft conversations in hushed voices. Loretta was watching over him, Vulk’s cord gripped his wrist, and Terry was wrapped around his shoulders to keep him warm.

Some things in Lorcan’s life were predictable. And despite everything, it was good.

[marlynnofmany]

Schrödinger’s Poison

Mending the spaceship’s extra cargo net was difficult. Too many strands. I held a couple in my teeth while both hands struggled with the rest, and it wasn't enough. I was considering getting my feet involved (or maybe a crewmate) when I heard excited voices in the hallway.

“Welcome back! Find anything good?”

“Yes! I met someone who wanted the expired heatpacks!”

“What, seriously?”

“You owe me a shrimp stick. Pay up.”

Good-natured grumbling followed. I was pretty sure these were the Frillian twins, who looked like fishy bodybuilders with a fashion sense that always caught me off guard. Either drapey veils and skirts, matching their own flowy fins, or strategically placed stretchy bands. No middle ground. And they were very competitive.

“What did they even want with old heatpacks? You told them they were expired, right?”

“Of course I did! You think I would cheat like that?”

The indignant one was Blip, I was pretty sure, the female of the pair — or the closest thing to female, since their species seemed to handle gender a little differently than humans did. Her brother was Blop.

“Ah, ‘course not,” he admitted. “What are they going to use them for, though?”

“Something about separating the components and putting them to other uses. But look what I got in trade! Human food that’s not expired!”

I looked up at that, mouth still full of cords, but of course the cargo bay door blocked my view. I listened, though.

“What kind is — OH, GET IT AWAY!”

“What? Why?”

I froze, just as curious.

“Do you know how many humans that stuff kills every cycle??”

“What are you talking about?” Blip demanded. “It’s food. It says so right here.”

“Don’t touch me with it! Put it in the containment chamber and get yourself scanned for poison!”

I wove quickly, rushing to finish so I didn’t lose my place; we needed all the nets, and we hadn’t been able to get a new one at the space station; this was important; but Oh man, what do they have out there?

“Humans are omnivores who eat anything! How is this deadly?” Blip was demanding when a new voice arrived.

“What’s the shouting?” asked Paint, her usual cheer dampened by worry. I could just picture her with hands clasped anxiously and her scaly tail held stiff: the very picture of lizardlike concern.

“That’s poison!”

“It’s food!”

“Poisonous food!”

Any hope I had of Paint calming things down was dashed when she asked for a closer look, then slammed into the cargo bay door in her panic to jump back. “I’ve heard of that! It killed an ambassador!”

“See? I told you—”

“We need to get you both scanned, and maybe me too,” Paint said, hyperventilating already. “Maybe the whole ship! Is it airborne? CAPTAIN! CAPTAAAIN!”

I threw the net to the floor and lunged for the door button. It banged open and startled Paint even more; she spun from where she’d been about to dash off in a streak of orange scales.

“What is it?” I demanded, making the pair of Frillians back up a step. I probably looked like some unhinged demon, slamming out of the bay like that. They were both wearing veritable clouds of neon green silks, so the surprise was at least a little bit mutual.

Blip held a jar over her shoulder, clearly torn between showing me the label and keeping it at a safe distance. I squinted, expecting alcohol or some unregulated drug.

Spaceman Spiff’s Chunky Peanut Butter, said the label.

I stared for a long moment, while everyone was silent. Then I’m afraid I startled them all by bursting into laughter.

“It’s not poisonous!” I managed to say.

“But it killed an ambassador!” Paint objected. “I read the report!”

“I am sorry to hear that,” I said, leaning against the wall for support. “The ambassador was allergic to peanuts.”

It took a bit of explaining, and I had to go over it all again when Captain Sunlight came running up, but I did get things settled.

“I can’t believe there are humans allergic to food,” Blip said. “I’ve heard of overreactions to mild toxins and venoms, but really, food? From your own planet?”

“Yup,” I said, putting out a hand for the peanut butter. “Not me, though. I like peanuts.” The jar was a hefty one, manufactured for long voyages. “We can still scan it to run through the medical systems, just in case one of you guys might react badly to it. But it’s not officially toxic.”

“Well, that is good to hear,” said Captain Sunlight, standing as tall as her little lizardy frame allowed. “How about you do that now, and anyone who came in contact with it goes along?”

Blip and Blop agreed immediately, not needing Paint’s waving hands to usher us down the hall.

I looked over my shoulder at Paint as I walked. “Once we get everybody checked out, you should try some. It’s good on toast.”

“Toasted what?” Paint asked, still shooing away.

“Bread.”

“Oh no,” she said. “I heard about that ‘pizza’ you talked people into eating on Kamm’s ship!”

“Some of them liked it!” I objected.

“Not Bopburt.”

“No, not Bopburt,” I admitted. “But this is totally different. Thanks for getting it, Blip!” I turned to wave the jar at the Frillian in the lead.

“My pleasure,” she said, and it almost sounded like she meant it.

“Want to try some once it’s safe?”

“No, I do not.”

“Your loss.”

~~~

The ongoing adventures of backstory for this book! More to come.

[glambots]

I read the little hc thing about how Bonnie can be surprised and thumos his foot and stuff; so can I pretty please request more of Bonnie like that, as well as how Monty would react when flustered/surprised like that? I hope it isn't to much to request, I just thought it was so cuuutteeee

I couldn't think of anything else for Bonnie atm (sorry rip), so I added a couple bonus HCs onto Monty's to make up for it!

🐊Montgomery Gator + Flustered HCs:🐊

⭐Listen, it might be because I'm a sucker for characters with tails, but--his tail wags whenever you surprise kiss him! Even while he's still trying to brush things off and act all "cool and macho" about it, his tail is a dead give-away about how happy he really is.

⭐Man really is the epitome of, "I love a (REDACTED) that can kick my ass." He sees you do One (1) cool thing and is immediately on all fours, frothing at the mouth, scrambling around like a Leetle Creecher. (When You Do A Cool, He Becomes A Fool.)

⭐Back in the "Monty Realizes He's Got it Bad" phase, he once tried the "leaning cool-y against a wall" thing in front of you, only for him to realize too late that the wall was, in fact, a door. He hit the ground like a sack of bricks and bit his tongue in the process.

⭐Your relationship is one-hundred percent that, "What does E-Y-E-S spell?" video. Monty is a lovable blockhead, but he is Not a Smart Man. ("Babe, I don't understand, it spells E-Yes, why are you laughing so hard sTOP LAUGHING AT ME...!!!")

⭐When Monty is concentrating really hard on something, the tip of his tongue sticks out of his snout. You once got a picture of it and Monty threw an absolute hissy-fit. Delete it right now, or he'll...he doesn't know what he'll do, but it'll be Something!!! Horrible!!!