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bamf-jaskier · 4 years ago

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Okay so I’m going to try and do a comparison of some of the major scenes between Geralt and Yennefer in Bottled Appetites vs The Last Wish.

Warning: this is a very long post and I tried to keep it as short as possible but Geralt and Yennefer is the relationship that is mainly focused on in both the short story and the show so there’s..a lot of content here.

Now, before I really jump in it’s important to note that the show is basically the spark notes version of the book, there’s a lot of missing content in the show mostly because the book just has so much more complexity so for a brief timeline:

Jaskier is injured

Talks to Chireadan

Meets Yennefer

Take Bath Together

Yennefer mind-controls Geralt and send him off to go fight some council members

THEN this is where the show and book differ

In the books, Yennefer’s mind-control has more obvious consequences and Geralt gets into legal trouble and there’s a whole scene with some town leaders threatening Geralt and Jaskier. (Although it is important to note Yennefer in the books has a back-up plan to save Geralt)

As well when Geralt goes to stop Yennefer in the books from capturing the Djinn she portals away with Geralt and they hate-crash a Noble’s party before having a conversation and fighting the Djinn again, Geralt makes his third wish and then they have sex

So basically the townspeople sub-plot is removed in the show and the Djinn fight is streamlined into one-scene instead of multiple. Now understanding that, let’s get into the scene comparisons.

Geralt Meeting Yennefer:

The Last Wish:

“You parried my spell,” she finally said. “You're not a sorcerer; that's obvious. But you reacted exceptionally fast. Tell me who you are, stranger who has come in peace. And I advise you to speak quickly.”

“I’m Geralt of Rivia. A witcher.”

Yennefer leaned out of the bed, grasping a faun—engraved on the pole—by a piece of anatomy well adapted to being grasped. Without taking her eyes off Geralt, she picked a coat with a fur collar up off the floor and wrapped herself up in it tightly before getting up. She poured herself another mug of juice without hurrying, drank it in one go, coughed and came closer. Geralt discreetly rubbed his lower back which, a moment ago, had collided painfully with the wall.

“Geralt of Rivia,” repeated the sorceress, looking at him from behind black lashes. “How did you get in here? And for what reason? You didn't hurt Berrant, I hope?”

“No. I didn't. Lady Yennefer, I need your help.”

“A witcher,” she muttered, coming up even closer and wrapping the coat around her more tightly. “Not only is it the first one I’ve seen up close but it's none other than the famous White Wolf. I’ve heard about you.”

“I can imagine.”

“I don't know what you can imagine.”

She yawned, then came even closer. “May I?” She touched his cheek and looked him in the eyes. He clenched his jaw. “Do your pupils automatically adapt to light or can you narrow and dilate them according to your will?”

“Yennefer,” he said calmly, “I rode nonstop all day from Rinde. I waited all night for the gates to open. I gave your doorman, who didn't want to let me in, a blow to the head. I disturbed your sleep and peace, discourteously and importunately. All because my friend needs help which only you can give him. Give it to him, please, and then, if you like, we can talk about mutations and aberrations.”

She took a step back and contorted her lips unpleasantly. “What sort of help do you mean?”

“The regeneration of organs injured through magic. The throat, larynx and vocal cords. An injury caused by a scarlet mist. Or something very much like it.”

The Show:

Yennefer: And quite a bit more. You’re immune.

Geralt: You must be the mage.

Yennefer: Yennefer of Vengerberg.

Geralt: Hm. Chireadan didn’t mention that, uh…

Yennefer: What did he fail to mention?

Geralt: We need your help.

Yennefer: “We”? [Geralt looks to Jaskier who gives a feeble wave.] Just a friend, I hope? [Geralt looks back at her.] Your heartbeat, it’s extraordinarily slow. You’re… a mutant.

Geralt: A witcher. Geralt of Rivia.

Yennefer: The famous White Wolf! [Standing up she steps close to Geralt.] I thought you’d have fangs or horns or something.

Geralt: I had them filed down.

Yennefer: [chuckles] First time I’ve seen a witcher up close. [She circles him, looks him over.] What little spells can you cast with your hands? Call it professional curiosity.

Geralt: Please, Jaskier here needs immediate attention. And then, if you’d like, I’ll indulge your curiosity all night long.

Yennefer: It won’t take all night. But I’m sure we can find a way to fill the time.

Geralt: [holding up the small sack with the pot’s shards] He was attacked by a djinn.

Yennefer: A djinn?

Geralt: Whatever’s wrong with him, it’s spreading. [Yennefer takes the sack and inspects the contents.] Fix it and I’ll pay you. Whatever the price.

Yennefer: You’ll have to do better than juice. [to the undulating figures] "Ragamuffin"!

In the books there is no orgy sequence, instead Yennefer has been mainly just been fucking with the merchant Beau Berrant, who in the show is the Mayor of Rinde. The apple juice sequence occurs in both adaptations and Geralt goes to Yennefer. In the books, Yennefer is alone in Berrant’s bedchambers, in the show she is in the orgy sequence. If you read the passages, they share the same bare bones. Yennefer tries to bespell Geralt, he is immune, she comments on his mutation, Geralt asks for help.

Yennefer and Geralt have the same flirtatious overtones in both adaptations. Honestly I don’t have much to say here because it parallels relatively well as far as characterization goes. I will say I prefer the book’s prose but I also understand that the show has more simplistic writing and wording.

Anya Chalotra has fantastic energy in playing Yennefer and the tension between the actors in this scene are quite apparent.

Bathing Together:

The Last Wish:

She entered the bath-chamber just as Geralt, sitting naked on a tiny stool, was pouring water over himself from a bucket. He cleared his throat and modestly turned his back to her.

“Don't be embarrassed,” she said, throwing an armful of clothing on the hook. “I don't faint at the sight of a naked man. Triss Merigold, a friend, says if you've seen one, you've seen them all.”

He got up, wrapping a towel round his hips.

“Beautiful scar.” She smiled, looking at his chest. “What was it? Did you fall under the blade in a sawmill?”

He didn't answer. The sorceress continued to observe him, tilting her head coquettishly.

“The first witcher I can look at from close up, and completely naked at that. Aha!” She leaned over, listening. “I can hear your heart beat. It's very slow. Can you control how much adrenalin you secrete? Oh, forgive me my professional curiosity. Apparently, you're touchy about the qualities of your own body. You're wont to describe these qualities using words which I greatly dislike, lapsing into pompous sarcasm with it, something I dislike even more.”

He didn't answer.“Well, enough of that. My bath is getting cold.” Yennefer moved as if she wanted to discard her coat, then hesitated. “I’ll take my bath while you talk, to save time. But I don't want to embarrass you and, besides, we hardly know each other. So then, taking decency into account—”

“I’ll turn around,” he proposed hesitantly.“No. I have to see the eyes of the person I’m talking to. I’ve got a better idea.”

He heard an incantation being recited, felt his medallion quiver and saw the black coat softly slip to the floor. Then he heard the water splashing.

“Now I can't see your eyes, Yennefer,” he said. “And that's a pity.”

The invisible sorceress snorted and splashed in the tub. “Go on.”

The Show:

[Later, in the bathroom, Geralt takes a bath while Yennefer keeps him company]

Yennefer: Fishing for a djinn seems an extreme measure to remedy sleeplessness.

Geralt: When extreme measures seem reasonable, yes, I’m desperate.

Yennefer: And yet you didn’t ask me to help with that.

Geralt: Looming death kind of jumped the queue. Now I’m wondering if I can afford you. Have I accidentally agreed to indentured servitude? [Yennefer notices his scars.] Go ahead, ask about them. Everyone does.

Yennefer: Everyone else is boring. [She undresses and steps into the tub.] Turn around.

Geralt: [Tries to look at her in a mirror, but Yennefer moves it with magic so he can’t see] That’s cheating.

Yennefer: Nobody smart plays fair. Tell me, are all witchers similarly blessed? [She sits down so they’re back to back.] Come now, you promised.

Geralt: Hm. I haven’t conducted a survey, but I’d hardly say we’re blessed.

Okay!! Now I can get more into the characterization differences because oh boy are there some here. First, Yennefer mentions Triss in the books which I would have loved to see in the show but the main thing here is how they objectify each other. In both adaptations, Yennefer notices Geralt’s scars when they begin to bathe together but in the books, Yennefer uses it as a way to pry more into the biological functions of Witchers whereas in the show she uses it as a way to talk about their shitty childhoods.

This ties into how the show, instead of focusing on the more biological aspects of Witchers, focuses on the tragic backstory of the characters. Of course, Lauren is of the mindset (like much of fandom) that Witchers are more animalistic while Sapko really pushes the idea that Witchers are creations of science so it makes sense the show wouldn’t want to talk about Witcher science as much.

As well, in the books, Geralt is rather respectful to Yennefer, promising to avert his gaze and she ends up turning invisible so she can objectify him but he can’t objectify her. It places Yennefer in charge and the obviously more powerful force in the room.

In the show, Geralt tries to take a peak at Yennefer and they sit back to back, establishing them as equals. And this is no mistake. In the books, Yennefer is quite a bit older than Geralt, she is powerful mage and Geralt is just a guy. Yennefer is the one in power in their relationship and that is obvious in every aspect of their relationship.

The show made Geralt 32 years older than Yennefer. They push a narrative of Yennefer and Geralt being on more equal footing (or even at times go as far as to make Geralt seem the more mature and older one which we will see later with Yennefer not being aware of the Wish).

This reverses a lot of the show/book dynamic where instead of Yennefer being the dominant one she is on equal footing with Geralt. Of course, this is likely due to Henry Cavill being around 37 and Anya Chalotra being around 23. Hollywood is allergic to the older woman/younger man dynamic that is seen in the books so making Yennefer seem younger is not a problem specific to The Witcher but with Hollywood at large. (Not to say it isn’t still bad to see this perpetuated in the show because it is)

Yennefer mind-controlling Geralt:

The Last Wish:

“He's asleep,” said Yennefer. “And dreaming.”

Geralt examined the patterns traced on the floor. The magic hidden within them was palpable, but he knew it was a dormant magic. It brought to mind the purr of a sleeping lion, without suggesting how the roar might sound.

“What is this, Yennefer?”

“A trap.”

“For what?”

“For you, for the time being.” The sorceress turned the key in the lock, then turned it over in her hand. The key disappeared.

“And thus I’m trapped,” he said coldly. “What now? Are you going to assault my virtue?”

“Don't flatter yourself.” Yennefer sat on the edge of the bed. Dandilion, still smiling like a moron, groaned quietly. It was, without a doubt, a groan of bliss.

“I already knew what you were like,” she continued, “after exchanging a few words with you in Beau's bedroom. And I knew what form of payment I’d demand from you. My accounts in Rinde could be settled by anyone, including Chireadan. But you're the one who's going to do it because you have to pay me. For your insolence, for the cold way you look at me, for the eyes which fish for every detail, for your stony face and sarcastic tone of voice. For thinking that you could stand face-to-face with Yennefer of Vergerberg and believe her to be full of self-admiration and arrogance, a calculating witch, while staring at her soapy tits. Pay up, Geralt of Rivia!”

She grabbed his hair with both hands and kissed him violently on the lips, sinking her teeth into them like a vampire. The medallion on his neck quivered and it felt to Geralt as if the chain was shrinking and strangling him. Something blazed in his head while a terrible humming filled his ears. He stopped seeing the sorceress's violet eyes and fell into darkness.He was kneeling. Yennefer was talking to him in a gentle, soft voice.“You remember?”

“Yes, my lady.” It was his own voice.

“So go and carry out my instructions.”

“At your command, my lady.”

“You may kiss my hand.”

“Thank you, my lady.”He felt himself approach her on his knees.

Ten thousand bees buzzed in his head. Her hand smelt of lilac and gooseberries. Lilac and gooseberries…Lilac and gooseberries…A flash. Darkness.

The Show:

Yennefer: If you wake him before he’s healed, the spell won’t take. That’s no way to treat a friend, Geralt.

Geralt: You want the djinn, but the amphora’s broken. The djinn’s already long gone. [Suddenly the candles around the sign flare up.]

Yennefer: [rubbing perfume onto her wrists] Do go on. Tell me how stuff works. The djinn is tied to this plane and its master. How many wishes did the bard express before he lost his voice?

Geralt: You need Jaskier to make his last wish so you can capture it.

Yennefer: So that’s… two then.

Geralt: The djinn will fight you. If you try and bend it- [He breaks off, clears his throat then inhales.] Ah… That scent… Lilac and…

Yennefer: Gooseberries. [Geralt exhales sharply.] Tough to get in your head. You have a strong will, but you can’t contend with me. Sorry I couldn’t be direct, I knew you’d fight it. [She leans up to kiss him, bites on his bottom lip until it bleeds.] And I do love a good old-fashioned trap.

Geralt: [slurring] A good old-fashioned… nap. [His eyes flutter shut.]

I mentioned how the show is a spark notes? Well, in the books Yennefer finds out through interrogating Geralt in the bath how many wishes are left. As well, in the books Yennefer is much more physically violent, again asserting the idea that she is the dominant one in the relationship and that she is in charge.

Honestly, the show softens Yennefer quite a bit in this scene. While she does bite his lip, it’s slowly and not particularly violent. In the books, she is compared to a vampire, grabbing his hair, pulling him down.

It all ties into the softer, younger version of Yennefer we see in the show vs the books. She is not as aggressive in the show and also not as dominant. Again, this could be due to the actor’s age difference but I also think it ties into Hollywood’s avoidance of placing women in a position that is above a male character. (Especially with Henry Cavill as Geralt, he would be unlikely to play a more subservient role to a woman purposefully considering some of his past statements about Me Too). However, having Yennefer as less aggressive also might make her more relatable to the audience and have her be more likable. At least, that could be what the writers were going for but I’m not psychic and I couldn’t tell you for sure.

Geralt trying to save Yennefer from the Djinn:

The Last Wish:

“Yennefer saw him, jumped up and raised her hand.

“No!” he shouted, “don't do this! I want to help you!”

“Help?” She snorted. “You?”

“Me.”

“In spite of what I did to you?”

“In spite of it.”

“Interesting. But not important. I don't need your help. Get out of here.”

“No.”

“Get out of here!” she yelled, grimacing ominously. “It's getting dangerous! The whole thing's getting out of control; do you understand? I can't master him. I don't get it, but the scoundrel isn't weakening at all! I caught him once he'd fulfilled the troubadour's third wish and I should have him in the sphere by now. But he's not getting any weaker! Dammit, it looks as if he's getting stronger! But I’m still going to get the better of him. I’ll break—”

“You won't break him, Yennefer. He'll kill you.”

“It's not so easy to kill me—”

She broke off. The whole roof of the tavern suddenly flared up. The vision projected by the sphere dissolved in the brightness. A huge fiery rectangle appeared on the ceiling. The sorceress cursed as she lifted her hands, and sparks gushed from her fingers.

“Run, Geralt!”

“What's happening, Yennefer?”

“He's located me…” She groaned, flushing red with effort. “He wants to get at me. He's creating his own portal to get in. He can't break loose but he'll get in by the portal. I can't—I can't stop him!”

“Yennefer—”

“Don't distract me! I’ve got to concentrate…Geralt, you've got to get out of here. I’ll open my portal, a way for you to escape. Be careful; it'll be a random portal. I haven't got time or strength for any other…I don't know where you'll end up…but you'll be safe…Get ready—.”

... (description paragraph skip)

“This way!” shouted Yennefer, indicating the portal which she had conjured up oh the wall by the stairs. In comparison to the one created by the genie, the sorceress's portal looked feeble, extremely inferior. “This way, Geralt! Run for it!”

“Only with you!”

Yennefer, sweeping the air with her hands, was shouting incantations and the many-colored fetters showered sparks and creaked. The djinn whirled like the bumble-bee, pulling the bonds tight, then loosening them. Slowly but surely he was drawing closer to the sorceress. Yennefer did not back away.

The witcher leapt to her, deftly tripped her up, grabbed her by the waist with one hand and dug the other into her hair at the nape. Yennefer cursed nastily and thumped him in the neck with her elbow. He didn't let go of her. The penetrating smell of ozone, created by the curses, didn't kill the smell of lilac and gooseberries. Geralt stilled the sorceress's kicking legs and jumped, raising her straight up to the opalescently flickering nothingness of the lesser portal.

The Show:

[In the bedroom]

Yennefer: [still chanting in Elder]

Geralt: [as he enters, Yennefer lifts a hand in his direction.] Don’t! I’m here to help you.

Yennefer: [lowers her hand] I don’t need your help. You’re free. No longer under my spell.

Geralt: And yet here I am.

Yennefer: You seem to want to meet your end.

Geralt: As do you.

Yennefer: [groans] The djinn isn’t weakening. The bard expressed his last wish, but it’s- [screams] it’s getting stronger! Go!

Geralt: That’s because I’m the one with the wishes.

Yennefer: You? You’re the djinn’s master?

Geralt: Yeah.

Yennefer: Well, what are you waiting for? [She screams as her bones crack.] Make your wishes!

Geralt: Becoming the vessel for the djinn will have you lose control, not gain it! Can’t you see what this is doing to you?

Yennefer: True transformation is painful.

Geralt: Release the djinn! I’ll give you my last wish!

Yennefer: You heroic protector… noble dog, permitting my success so long as you command it yourself. Fuck off! I’ll do this myself!

Geralt: Damn it, Yennefer! Tell me what you want!

Yennefer: I want everything!

[In the bedroom, Yennefer’s eyes have gone red, her voice distorted]

Djinn: [speaking through Yennefer] Make your wish! You can have anything you want! You could choose not to be a witcher. What do you desire? Immortality? Riches? Fame? Power?

Geralt: I wish… [The rest of his words are drowned out by the wind. Yennefer falls forward and the wind calms down. Geralt pulls up his sleeve to reveal the third cut.]

Yennefer: The djinn… Wh- Where did it go? [The house groans and creaks, and the two look to the ceiling as it crashes down.]

Yennefer still craves power and wants for everything in the show. In the books, she is more established and wants to try and control the Djinn. This is why when Geralt comes back for Yennefer, both versions express surprise at why Geralt would come back to help after they cast a spell on him but Netflix!Yennefer tells Geralt to fuck off on the basis she doesn’t want a man controlling her life (tying into the Strong Female Character Trope) while Book!Yennefer wants Geralt out of danger first and foremost.

Of course, much of this in the show is likely a response to try and subvert the “damsel in distress” stereotype and while the books have Yennefer as the dominant one and in control, showing that she in not in distress, the show has her explicitly point this out because she is not established as the dominant one as much as in the books.

The show constantly is more overt with its themes that the books which are far more subtle.

Yennefer is mad at Geralt and then they have sex:

The Last Wish (Warning this is rather long and I even tried to shorten it without removing content!!):

“You moron!” Yennefer yelled, trying to scratch out his eyes. “You bloody idiot! You stopped me! I nearly had him!”

“You had shit-all!” he shouted back, furious. “I saved your life, you stupid witch!”

She hissed like a furious cat; her palms showered sparks.

Geralt, turning his face away, caught her by both wrists and they rolled among the oysters, seaweed and crushed ice.

“Do you have an invitation?” A portly man with the golden chain of a chamberlain on his chest was looking at them with a haughty expression.

“Screw yourself!” screamed Yennefer, still trying to scratch Geralt's eyes out.

“The wish, Geralt! Hurry up! What do you desire? Immortality? Riches? Fame? Power? Might? Privileges? Hurry, we haven't any time!” He was silent

“Humanity,” she said suddenly, smiling nastily. “I’ve guessed, haven't I? That's what you want; that's what you dream of! Of release, of the freedom to be who you want, not who you have to be. The djinn will fulfill that wish, Geralt. Just say it.”

He stayed silent.

She stood over him in the flickering radiance of the wizard's sphere, in the glow of magic, amidst the flashes of rays restraining the djinn, streaming hair and eyes blazing violet, erect, slender, dark, terrible…

And beautiful.

All of a sudden she leaned over and looked him in the eyes. He caught the scent of lilac and gooseberries.

“You're not saying anything,” she hissed. “So what is it you desire, witcher? What is your most hidden dream? Is it that you don't know or you can't decide? Look for it within yourself, look deeply and carefully because, I swear by the Force, you won't get another chance like this!”

But he suddenly knew the truth. He knew it. He knew what she used to be. What she remembered, what she couldn't forget, what she lived with. Who she really was before she had become a sorceress.

Her cold, penetrating, angry and wise eyes were those of a hunchback. He was horrified. No, not of the truth. He was horrified that she would read his thoughts, find out what he had guessed. That she would never forgive him for it. He deadened that thought within himself, killed it, threw it from his memory forever, without trace, feeling, as he did so, enormous relief. Feeling that—

The ceiling cracked open. The djinn, entangled in the net of the now fading rays, tumbled right on top of them, roaring, and in that roar were triumph and murder lust. Yennefer leapt to meet him. Light beamed from her hands. Very feeble light.

The djinn opened his mouth and stretched his paws toward her.

The witcher suddenly understood what it was he wanted.

And he made his wish.

... (time skip)

Yennefer, slightly flushed, knelt by him, resting her hands on her knees.

“Witcher.” She cleared her throat. “Are you dead?”

“No.” Geralt wiped the dust from his face and hissed.

Slowly, Yennefer touched his wrist and delicately ran her fingers along his palm. “I burnt you—”

“It's nothing. A few blisters—”

“I’m sorry. You know, the djinn's escaped. For good.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not much.”

“Good. Help me up, please.”

“Wait,” she whispered. “That wish of yours…I heard what you wished for. I was astounded, simply astounded. I’d have expected anything but to…What made you do it, Geralt? Why…Why me?”

“Don't you know?”

She leaned over him, touched him. He felt her hair, smelling of lilac and gooseberries, brush his face and he suddenly knew that he'd never forget that scent, that soft touch, knew that he'd never be able to compare it to any other scent or touch. Yennefer kissed him and he understood that he'd never desire any lips other than hers, so soft and moist, sweet with lipstick. He knew that, from that moment, only she would exist, her neck, shoulders and breasts freed from her black dress, her delicate, cool skin, which couldn't be compared to any other he had ever touched. He gazed into her violet eyes, the most beautiful eyes in the world, eyes which he feared would become…

Everything. He knew.

“Your wish,” she whispered, her lips very near his ear. “I don't know whether such a wish can ever be fulfilled. I don't know whether there's such a Force in Nature that could fulfill such a wish. But if there is, then you've condemned yourself. Condemned yourself to me.”

He interrupted her with a kiss, an embrace, a touch, caresses and then with everything, his whole being, his every thought, his only thought, everything, everything, everything. They broke the silence with sighs and the rustle of clothing strewn on the floor.

They broke the silence very gently, lazily, and they were considerate and very thorough. They were caring and tender and, although neither quite knew what caring and tenderness were, they succeeded because they very much wanted to. And they were in no hurry whatsoever. The whole world had ceased to exist for a brief moment, but to them, it seemed like a whole eternity.

And then the world started to exist again; but it existed very differently.

“Geralt?”

“Mmm?”

“What now?”

“I don't know.”

“Nor do I. Because, you see, I…I don't know whether it was worth condemning yourself to me. I don't know how—Wait, what are you doing…? I wanted to tell you—”

“Yennefer…Yen.”

“Yen,” she repeated, giving in to him completely. “Nobody's ever called me that. Say it again.”

“Yen.”

“Geralt.”

The Show:

[Yennefer and Geralt portal into the room inside the manor, where they first met.]

Geralt: Yennefer? [He gets to his knees and shifts the hair of her face.] Yennefer. It’s me… Geralt.

Yennefer: [She opens slowly her eyes, shoves Geralt away and rises.] I know who you are. What did you do? You stopped me, didn’t you? I nearly had it.

Geralt: You had shit all. I saved your life.

Yennefer: And I saved yours! You let the djinn escape. Who knows what havoc it’ll wreak now that it has no vessel at all?

Geralt: No more havoc than you. Djinns are only dark creatures when held captive.

Yennefer: How can you be so sure?

Geralt: When did you last feel happy when you felt trapped? And if you were going to portal us to safety, you could’ve taken us out of this shit town!

Yennefer: A fine critique if you could make a portal yourself. And it wasn’t a shit town, it was a fine town till you came along. I had a plan!

Geralt: [chuckles] And that was going swimmingly!

Yennefer: It was. Like a drowning fish. [They kiss and begin to have sex.]

I tried to keep it short here, but the show combined multiple scenes from the book here. I do love the fact that they kept the shit-all line, it’s a favorite. Of course, many people have likely noticed the HUGE difference between the show and books. In the books, Yennefer knows what the wish is and she’s aware Geralt tied their destinies together.

The show keeps Yennefer in the dark about the wish (likely as a way to manufacture tension on the mountain and have it be dramatic tm) and this just further places her as the not-dominant one in comparison to Geralt. I will also say I love how in the books, Geralt gets a flashback through Yennefer’s past and her trauma. It would have been interesting to see that in the show.

This final scene suffers so much in the show by being so shortened. We don’t see Yennefer and Geralt have a long conversation about the consequences of the wish or what they might do next, they just exchange a few lines about the Djinn which makes the sex scene seem more sudden than in the books.

Of course, I will give props to the actors for the sexual tension they are able to generate in just a few lines as they move closer to each other (granted this tension is ruined as soon as the music starts playing and Jaskier shows up, making the sex scene humorous instead of impactful).

The last lines in the book passage where Yennefer asks Geralt to call her Yen just breaks my damn heart and I would do anything to have seen it in the show. The way the books showcase two very traumatized people finally finding each other is just so lovely and I don’t understand the directing decision to have the tone of the scene switch so quickly in the show from serious and impactful to light. It takes away a lot from the characters.

In the end, the show has Yennefer in a less dominant position in the books and also has her act younger in a sense. This could be due to the actor’s age difference or Hollywood’s allergy to dominant women but despite this, the actors bring a lot of chemistry to the screen (especially in the first meeting/bath scenes).

I would have liked the show to give Yennefer more agency in regards to the wish, especially considering that is her character arc in the show, but I did appreciate how many scenes paralleled each other and I believe at the end of the day, the show was able to preserve enough of Yenralt to make it a believable pairing in the show and I can see them improving the dynamic they have already established throughout the first season in season 2.

#I mean it's sure as fuck better than the bastardization of Yenralt that is the games #shit she isn't even in the first game #and appears in the second one through flashbacks #and also the games imply that the wish changed Yennefer's feelings for Geralt which is NOT TRUE IN THE BOOKS AT ALL #and also just the fact that the games make Geralt the gruff batman type when he is nothing of the sort in the books #and the show plays into so many of these macho-man stereotypes too #and the way the games have Yennefer ENCOURAGE Geralt to take Ciri to Emhyr #just everything about the Empress Ciri ending #and the games not having the ending of Lady of the Lake just ignores and spits in theface of everything the books were trying to show #like the show has its problems but at least there's hope for redemption #the games just has Yennefer and Triss fighting over Geralt for no reason #and the fact that Ciri never calls Yennefer her mother in the games #argh the show better not fuck up Ciri and Yen's relationship #honestly Yennefer in the games never strays beyond her Last Wish characterization and we NEVER see the growth that is seen in the books #which is quite annoying because Yennefer in the Last Wish is still cruel in many ways #she needs to grow and learn #and she does that through raising Ciri #which the games IGNORE #they keep Yennefer as cruel and heartless in many ways #but the whole point of Yennefer is that raising Ciri allowed her to open her heart #of course if Yennefer was kind in the games they couldn't put her against Triss as much #haha if u can't tell I have some...problems with Yen's portrayal in the games...#the witcher #Yennefer #geralt #yenralt #the Witcher netflix #the Witcher books #myposts #meta

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tsarisfanfiction · 3 years ago

Note

Colour symbol ask:

Fluff: grey: maturity

Gordon & Alan

Secret Tunnel

Fandom: Thunderbirds Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Alan, Gordon

Well, my muses have come to life again, which is both great for my mental state and annoying timing with regards to the uni work I'm supposed to be doing, but I'll make it work :D

After making a Military Bros masterpost of everything I've written for those two for Military Bros Day, I started thinking about all the different brother duos and how much I've written for each of them. Now, I might be forgetting something, but the one combination I don't recall writing anything for at all is Gordon&Alan, so I poked at my muses and we came up with this!

It's only a loose tie-in to the prompt, I think, but some sensible Tinies content counts as being mature, right?

Colour Symbol Prompts

“So.” Alan glanced up at his brother, raising an eyebrow at the drawl. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?” Gordon continued, tone light in a way that would have been disarming if it wasn’t Gordon, and they weren’t in the remains of a collapsed building.

“What’s the bad news?” he asked, rolling his shoulder. It was stiff, vocally complaining at the movement, and Alan was well aware that without the pauldrons his overprotective brothers had thrown on his uniform before letting him join IR it would be a lot worse. While none of the debris had hit either of them directly, some smaller chunks of masonry had glanced off his left shoulder.

Gordon’s sharp amber eyes tracked the motion even as his brother spoke. “Well, the bad news is that our comms are down.” Alan had suspected as such, but the fact still dumped a heavy weight on his chest. No comms meant no John, no Scott or Virgil, no help from outside. He didn’t like being cut off from his brothers at the best of times, and this was hardly the best of times.

Still, he at least had one brother this time, and despite his penchant for not taking things seriously at home, when out on a mission, Gordon was as reliable as they came. They might not have Thunderbird Five’s data at their disposal, or Scott’s leadership, or Virgil’s muscles, but they did have two working brains between them.

Panicking, as Alan had learnt the hard way on other rescues where things went wrong, did him no favours at all. He swallowed back the instinctual panic and met Gordon’s eyes in the artificial half light of the glowstick from Gordon’s baldric.

“So what’s the good news?” he asked.

“The good news,” Gordon said with a flourish and grin reserved for when things weren’t going their way and Alan’s immediate brother decided the world wasn’t allowed to do that, “is that I think I’ve found us a way out.”

“You think?” Alan couldn’t help but question, even though he was already scrabbling his way to his feet and looking around in the hopes of seeing whatever Gordon had found.

“Over here.” He followed the glowstick as Gordon headed over towards where the rubble looked the thickest, blocking them in. “There’s air flowing in.”

Neither of their uniforms offered much by way of exposed skin, but Alan leaned down where Gordon gestured and took off his helmet just long enough to feel a faint breeze on his cheek.

“Where’s that coming from?” he asked, tugging his helmet back on. Gordon pointed at the floor, or what had once been the floor.

“It’s coming from down there,” he said.

“The floor?” Alan knelt down where Gordon gestured. “Why would it be coming from the- oh.”

The house they’d been in, and were now trapped inside, had been an old one. Alan didn’t remember the exact age, but it was a couple of centuries old at least. Old houses, especially larger ones, had secret passageways.

“So how do we get it open?” he wondered out loud, already rummaging around the area. Gordon crouched down next to him with a shrug as his hands joined Alan’s in trying to find a way to open the passageway that had to be there if they were getting airflow.

“Figured finding ways to open secret passages was more your thing,” his brother admitted. “Don’t those games of yours have secret passageways in all the time?”

The question was an honest one, and Alan blinked. “Well, yeah,” he said, “but those are games. This is real. It won’t be the same.” Despite his words, his fingers were still pulling and pushing at the stones that made up the floor, because at least it was a lead.

They could, of course, wait for their bigger brothers to barge their way in, with Virgil encased in his exosuit and Scott so close behind he’d be standing on his heels while John guided them non-stop over the comms, but there was still a lot of work to be done and they were deep inside the building.

Said building took that moment to groan again, threatening another collapse if they didn’t get out pronto. Alan loved his brothers, but he wasn’t about to get crushed because he’d waited helplessly for rescue. The danger zone covered a large area, and while he and Gordon had found no casualties in their sector, Virgil and Scott would have to prioritise the civilians elsewhere no matter how much they might be panicking about losing contact with the pair of them.

If he and Gordon could find their own way out, so much the better.

“It’s close enough, right?” Gordon shrugged, still sounding inappropriately light-hearted for the situation. Alan didn’t take it personally – Gordon’s coping strategies had time and time proven themselves to be effective.

“I’ll let you know,” he grunted, finding ridges in the stone floor. “Bring that light closer. I think I’ve got something.”

The sickly green glow spread across more of his vision as Gordon held it close to his hands, illuminating the remains of the floor below them. There were multiple ridges carved into the stone, all uniform and completely mundane.

Except for the section that wasn’t.

Alan almost missed it, huffing in defeat as he sat on his haunches and rubbed at his shoulder again. At a glance, it looked no different to the rest of the floor, but it had caught his glove in a way the others hadn’t. It was also in the same place as the mysterious airflow.

Gloved fingers scrabbled at the discrepancy, hunting for a purchase that would hopefully reveal their way out. Gordon had moved to crouch right next to him, holding the glowstick aloft but otherwise keeping his hands to himself and leaving the investigation to Alan. His presence there was comforting, helping Alan to keep it together when part of him wanted to scream into his dead comms in the hope that John would pick it up anyway.

There was a click, barely audible over the noise of creaking masonry in their immediate vicinity. Alan felt it rather than heard it, his fingers suddenly pressing down as the resistance vanished. Age old mechanisms whirred back into life, until with a clunk part of the floor moved down and to the side, revealing a small, dark, passageway leading down into the belly of the house.

“Nice one,” Gordon acknowledged, leaning forwards and peering into the inky depths. A second glowstick was snapped and tossed in, illuminating what was definitely a rough-hewn rock corridor. “I’ll go first.”

He was halfway in by the time the words registered, and Alan peered at the opening with some reluctance. “And you’re sure this will get us out?” he checked, because he didn’t want to wait to be rescued like a civilian, but he also had no intentions of being buried alive.

“That air’s coming from somewhere,” Gordon reminded him, edging forwards a few more paces until he reached the glowstick laying where it had landed on the floor of the corridor. “And the roof of this thing seems pretty sturdy.” He rapped it a couple of times with his knuckles. “If the rest of the house collapses, this’ll be the last thing to go.”

A glance around showed that his brother was probably right. Alan swallowed before following him inside, sticking right on Gordon’s heels as the older blond led the way, glowstick held up high for light.

As far as passages went, it was small. Apt for a secret passage, but annoying when the ceiling lowered and the pair of them had to stoop almost double to get through some sections. It twisted and turned, in some areas narrow enough to force them to go through sideways, and at one point the way forwards seemed to vanish altogether before Alan realised a shaft of rock was concealing the next section.

It definitely lived up to its likely original purpose of a secret escape. Pursuing someone through there would be difficult; luckily, the only aim Alan and Gordon had was getting out of the collapsed building.

The first sign of the outside world was when their comms crackled in unison. It was impossible to make anything out through the static, but the garbled voice of John was definitely missing the calm tones their ginger brother usually deployed on rescues. Scott’s response was short and sharp, clipped in a way that screamed panic, and the low rumble of Virgil felt on edge, too.

Returning comms promised that they had to nearly be out, and Alan stumbled forwards, almost catching himself with his painful shoulder before he arrested his momentum with his healthy arm instead.

Neither he nor Gordon spoke, even though he was certain the same thoughts had to be running through his brother’s head as well. They were close, but they weren’t out yet, and had no reassurance that the exit for the secret tunnel hadn’t been collapsed or buried by more falling debris.

Still, it remained the best chance they had. Alan didn’t fancy trailing back through the passageway and sitting back in the rubble of the building, and he knew Gordon felt the same, so pushing onwards was their only choice. It continued to twist and turn, dog-legging and backtracking with no apparent rhyme nor reason. Alan tried to keep track of it in his head, logging it like any secret passage in Cavern Quest, but it put all the virtual ones to shame.

Then Gordon stopped, and Alan walked straight into him.

“Ow!” he exclaimed instinctively, before stepping back a pace. “Why have we stopped?”

“It doesn’t go any further,” Gordon said, holding the glowstick high. It was running out of juice, leaving the sickly green glow far fainter than it had been earlier. It was barely enough light to make out his brother’s face, let alone whatever the rocks surrounding them were doing. “This must be the end.”

“So get us out,” Alan shrugged, rubbing his shoulder and trying to hide the wince of pain that came with the action. Their comms were still broadcasting garbled static interspersed with panicked voices, but the signal was still too poor to even attempt to get hold of John. “There’ll be a mechanism somewhere. Try looking for something slightly off in the ridges on the stone?”

“Trying,” Gordon grunted. The faint green-lit silhouette of his shoulders strained as he pushed and pulled at the rocks. “Not finding anything, Alan.”

“Let me try.” He pushed forwards, trying to squeeze past Gordon to get a better look at the wall of rock blocking their way. Gordon fell back without complaint, although it took a lot of pushing and pulling, and a concerning scrape against his helmet before they managed it.

Alan was struck by a flash of gratitude that none of their older brothers were with them. Scott and John would both be too tall, and Virgil was too bulky. Getting through the passageway with one of them would have been a nightmare. At least he hadn’t yet stopped growing and Gordon was small – not that he planned on mentioning that to Gordon just yet. There was a time and a place for the teasing, and this was neither.

With Gordon now behind him, looming over his shoulder with the ever-fading glowstick held out helpfully in his periphery, Alan reached out and felt around for something similar to the switch he’d found to get them into the tunnel from the other end. Carefully uniform ridges carved across the rock and he followed them with his fingers until, finally, something gave.

Bright light spilled in as the end of the tunnel opened, blinding him with midday sun.

That, however, paled in comparison to the way both their comm audios suddenly sharpened.

“Any sign of them?” Scott’s voice demanded.

“Keep working on getting the mother out of that room,” John non-answered, still sounding far too on edge. “Virgil, there’s a small life sign the other side of the wall.”

“F.A.B.” The forced calm of Virgil’s voice told Alan he was no less agitated than the other two.

“Hey guys.” Gordon chipped in, echoing in Alan’s helmet from the comm channel in stereo with the sound of his voice in real time. “Where do you need us, Thunderbird Five?”

“Gordon!” All three voices overlapped in frantic cacophony. “Where are you?” Scott demanded. “Where’s Alan? Are you okay?”

“I’m here, too,” Alan promised.

“We’re fine,” Gordon added. “Who’s left to save?”

“Virgil and Scott are on the last life signs now,” John told them. “Your signals have reappeared a fair way out from the danger zone; get yourselves back to Thunderbird Two.”

Alan looked around and realised he was right – the two Thunderbirds gleamed in the sunlight, but it was immediately clear that the passageway they’d taken had led almost directly away from the crafts. Even in a straight line, the walk was going to take a good quarter of an hour.

Next to him, Gordon sighed and started walking. “F.A.B.,” he agreed. Alan stumbled a little as he lurched forwards to keep up. “We’ll see you there.”

Sure enough, by the time they arrived, both on-site brothers were waiting impatiently. It was clear that it was only the presence of their rescuees that had stopped them from striking out to meet them, but even that wasn’t enough to stop their big brothers charging towards them as soon as they were visible.

Scott reached them first, always the fastest runner, and Alan let out an oof as he was crushed into a frantic hug alongside Gordon. Worried blue eyes looked them both over, narrowing as they found something they didn’t like.

He was pushed aside as Virgil reached them, Thunderbird Two’s pilot refraining from giving them a bear hug only because he’d clearly spotted the scrape on Alan’s helmet as he’d approached.

“Are you hurt?” A medscanner was deployed almost before Virgil was finished talking. Scott didn’t wait for permission from anyone before carefully detaching Alan’s helmet and peering at his head. Alan didn’t bother to stop him.

“I’m fine!” he made sure to protest, though, although his hand betrayed him as it subconsciously moved across to rub at his shoulder again. None of his brothers missed the action, and before he knew it he was being whisked inside the green Thunderbird so Virgil could take a closer look.

Scott hovered worriedly by his side, glancing over periodically at Gordon. Alan followed suit, catching Gordon’s eye, and his brother rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. It was fond, though; Alan wasn’t at all surprised by Scott and Virgil’s behaviour, and he highly doubted Gordon was, either.

It was just a hazard of having older brothers.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #alan tracy #gordon tracy #scott tracy #virgil tracy #john tracy #drabbles #thunderfluff #janetm74 #secret tunnel

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ditttiii · 5 years ago

Text

Enchanted To Meet You || 5.5 || JK’s Interlude.

Banner by: @thebannershop

◈ Summary: No one ever told you that you had a soulmate or—soulmates, for that matter. Humans don't have soulmates, but shapeshifters do. What are you supposed to do when the seven members of the worlds biggest boy band turn out to be your soulmates—only for you to realise that they aren't even human

BTS is on a hiatus and ARMY thinks they are completing their mandatory military service. You believe that too, at least you did until you realised that you had adopted them and that one way or another they were gonna live with you—as Hybrids because apparently, you all are soulmates.

◈ (Hybrid AU // Soulmate AU) (Fluff // humour // smut // angst // eventually NSFW) (NC-18) (Ot7 x Reader) (slow burn)

◈ series master-list

◈ Word Count: 2051

◈ Warnings: Maybe one curse word? PG-13 (sfw)

You're the debt that brought me back to my life 너는 내 삶에 다시 뜬 햇빚 The Second Coming of My Dreams as a Child 어린 시절 내 꿈들의 재림 I don't know what this feeling is 모르겠어 이 감정이 뭔지 Is this a deceitful dream? 혹시 여기도 꿈 속인건지

Jungkook hates quite a few things in his life at the moment—hates having to hide from his soulmate, hates that he has to pretend like he was just a rabbit and not a living, breathing human too, however more than anything else he hates himself.

God, he despises himself now more than ever. He had hurt you, made you cry, made you fear your own home. He was supposed to be someone you felt safe with, and yet he almost gave you a heart attack today.

Jungkook at the moment feels like a fraud, a sham as he gazes at you—looks at your peaceful, sleeping face. Small, warm puffs of breath hits his head and he feels his fur move under the soft force.

‘Tingles’, He thinks.

He feels your warm presence cocoon him as his body heat mingles with yours. Here, curled beside your sleeping figure like this, he can't help but curse himself. His self-loathing at an all-time high, as he thinks back to what had happened a few hours ago.

He knew it was a possibility, knew that it could happen.

The chance of you coming home suddenly and catching him in his human form wasn't an improbable one.

Jungkook, though, couldn't stand it anymore. It wasn't like he would have died if he hadn't shifted, but being a rabbit all the time wasn't the most comfortable feeling ever either.

His bones ached, and his muscles were sore because of the prolonged shifted state.

He also wasn't used to being in his animal form for an extended duration of time. He'd usually shift back after a few hours, and so this wasn't a problem he had been aware of before.

The feeling of staying shifted for days on end had him feeling claustrophobic. It was the kind of claustrophobia he thinks he would experience if he was locked inside a too tiny box with his limbs wrapped awkwardly and uncomfortably close to his body.

Suffice to say it wasn't the most comfortable state of being.

His plan was to make use of the few minutes while you were out shopping to shift back to his human form and just stretch. He hadn't planned on staying like that for longer than maybe ten minutes. But when he had shifted-back the relief—oh god, the relief was almost intoxicating.

It's potency so concentrated, he had ended up groaning out loud as his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

The numbing, constant aching of his bones and muscles, more than anything else, had left him feeling exhausted for the last few days. The pins and needles feeling when he had shifted back was enough to send him tumbling down onto the floor, as his unsteady feet refused to hold his weight.

Jungkook had been practising boxing with his trainer before all of this had happened. He also had a black belt in Taekwondo—the very principle of which was to harness an indomitable spirit. He was fit, active, athletic and buff. Staying shifted for extended periods into a form so much smaller than his human one, was borderline torturous at times.

Jungkook simply did not know how he was supposed to hold back.

He had many qualities that he was admired for, but iron like self-restraint wasn't exactly one of them. Maybe, more like the lack, thereof the aforementioned, self-restraint would be more appropriate.

Jungkook wasn't born talented. Not like the rest of the band members. As a student, he wasn't really the brightest pea in the pod either, his math skills are still nothing to boast about.

What most people saw was the end product, the final result that would come out after Jungkook would spend hours, days—months, perfecting it. He had said it before, but in reality, he wasn't as perfect as his stage persona portrayed him to be. While BTS's Jungkook was perfection personified, with his precise dance timings and on-point vocal notes, Jeon Jeongukk struggled.

When Jeongukk had first joined BTS, he had been more of a dancer than he was a singer. He had never, ever had the assumption or even the hope, that he would be chosen as the main vocalist. When he was rejected during the auditions for Superstar K, the talent show, Jeongkook was heartbroken.

It wasn't something he had ever talked in-depth about to ARMY, but his confidence in his vocal skills had taken a hit that day. He had chosen his then idol, IU Noona's song, and had sung it for weeks, perfected every single note until the feel of that vibration, the beat of that rhythm had synced to his very pulse.

But he was rejected, cast out before his audition could even be broadcasted.

He till date can't fully understand why bighit, let alone seven fucking agencies, had thought he was worth their time. Maybe it was fate playing its card and bringing him together with his soulmates, or it was just a coincidence—he didn't know why and probably never would.

He knows that it wasn't exactly a necessity for all of his soulmates to be idols, you clearly weren't. He knew precisely how lucky he was, and was therefore so utterly thankful that he could share his passion and love with all of his soulmates.

Yes, All of his soulmates, you included.

Jungkook isn't a snooper, not really. Sure, he has always been curious by nature, and his maknae persona only fuelled that image, thus overtime making him seem more like the baby in the group—but no he wasn't a snooper.

He knows how much he values his personal space and, so would never deliberately try to breach upon someone else's but you—god you, made him do things he would never choose to do before.

He hadn't wanted to, or well maybe he did want to, but he definitely didn't mean to. It wasn't like he had been planning to check your laptop folders.

No, because when just stretching hadn't quite fully loosened his body, he had thought he'd do a quick dance routine and get the blood flowing. How was he supposed to know that he would find BTS songs, their songs, his songs on there?

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he still was. Their fandom was pretty big, and the chances of a college girl listening to their music were pretty high. You were part of the demographic that they aimed and catered most towards, so it was to be expected, but it still caught him by surprise.

Dressed in one of your loose hoodies and a pair of loose pyjamas, he looks at the screen.

His breath still hitched in his throat as his eyes widened, glossy, doe-like large and oh so so curious.

His grip on the back of your chair slips, as he stumbles before getting a hold, and slowly sinks down onto the empty seat. Thinks about how you have probably spent hours pouring over your medical texts in the same exact chair, and that makes him feel closer to you.

He has been curled around you, has slept with his face literally pushed into your cleavage, but somehow the simple act of sharing a space that you spent a lot of your time in, sends his heart racing as a small smile overtakes his lips and he bites them to stop it from spreading entirely.

He fails, of course, he does.

He clicks on the folder titled 'BTS' and watches a list of sub-folders pop up on his screen. His heartbeat rises—thuds and beats strong enough that he feels it in his ears, in the back of his throat, in the wrist that touches the table as he glides the mouse across the surface.

His palms feel sweaty, and he feels this anxious feeling pool somewhere deep in his stomach, as his gut squeezes. It feels like his conscience is telling him something. That he shouldn't be doing this. This feels like something dangerous, but something he desires. The folder the screen displays the apple to his Adam.

You? his forbidden fruit.

His breaths grow shorter, as he unconsciously tries to be as quiet as he can be and leans forward to look at the vast array of songs you had. As his eyes rake over the meticulously named albums with their years after them written in brackets, he almost chuckles.

He isn't surprised to see that you were anal about categorizing your songs too. From what he had observed of you in the last few days, he would be more surprised if you weren't.

His finger glides over the scroll wheel of the mouse, as he reads the titles of the songs. Every single song they had released was on there—Official and covers.

Every. Single. One.

Whether you were just a really dedicated ARMY or it was because of the soulmate bond, he didn't know, but it doesn't matter to him what the reason was.

Because there they were, he and his hyungs splayed all over your computer screen. Their photoshoots all lined meticulously year after year, their random pictures that you had probably picked up from twitter or weverse grouped by year and then there were screenshots.

Screenshots of tweets, weverse, certain parts of interviews of theirs, that you had ever liked were all there. It was fascinating, surreal, insane to be able to see himself and the hyungs through your eyes, the eyes of their soulmate.

Somewhere, between finding you in that shelter, to now living with you, he had stopped thinking of you as human, as someone different.

Yes, you weren't quite the same as he was, but he didn't care anymore. Because you loved him, you cried for him, you laughed with him and more than anything else you completed him. Filled his aching, longing soul with love until it overflowed and he felt full, content—sated. His thirst for your presence quenched, for once in all his life.

However, the realisation that he had found his last soulmate hadn't fully sunk in yet. He couldn't even imagine what the others must be feeling right now, he was sleeping curled around you and, yet all he wanted to be was closer, it was this all-consuming feeling that kept pulling him under, dunking him in its depths.

The crazy part was he didn't even mind it anymore, he would drown in the deepest depths if he could feel your hand pulling him closer in there, your lips locking with his as you breathe air into him, save him, make him yours.

Kami, he wanted you to make him yours, mate him, mark him.

He knew it wouldn't happen anytime soon, you didn't even know they were your soulmates. Sure, you liked them as artists, but what teenage or college girl didn't have a favourite band? They could very well just be a passing fascination for you at this point, a fleeting interest, a secret guilty pleasure before you move on with your life.

Wasn't that how fame usually worked? It was eager, intense, loud until it suddenly wasn't and one was left with a gaping hole in their heart, that they aren't ever able to fill after.

Jungkook didn't want that, he didn't want that for his hyungs either. It was something he had figured out years ago. He wasn't about to let this fickle, fleeting fame catch him in its lusty claws.

He would give this life his all, pour literal sweat, blood and tears into it, but once his extended contract ends, he will step back.

He will bow down low as the curtains close for the stage of 'The Golden Maknae' and, the path paves for Jeon Jeongkook. The boy who had come from Busan with a heart full of hopes and dreams and had ended up achieving and getting more than he had ever even imagined or hoped for.

He would be thankful to his fans, to his company, to his Hyungs, to this industry, for taking care of him and letting him fly under their warm protection, but he would be done. As the curtains fall close, the mask will slip, and he'll turn, and you will be there.

You with your bright grin and glimmering eyes would look on at him proudly, and he'd kiss you, hold you and know that he didn't want fame because he had you.

And you were all he had wanted for as long as he can remember.

After all, you are the cause of his euphoria, a home with you his utopia.

Filling in the plot, adding it the finer details.

Since the taglist is pretty long now and I can’t continue to keep them all in my comments, I will be putting the taglist up here from next chapters onwards. Tumblr is glitchy and some of you might not be notified so I am sorry about that. However, if you are a regular reader and have left me feedback time and time again, whether it was a comment or an ask with your thoughts on this story, I’ll tag you down in the comments since I know you definitely do read the work and appreciate it and I am so grateful for your support.

Thank you for reading 💖

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cuddlepilefics · 3 years ago

Text

Persistent Cough

Fandom: GOT7

Sickie: Jaebeom

Caregivers: GOT6

Prompt: @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Being busy and having to travel a lot, it was only a matter of time till their schedules would take a toll on their health. Just having come back to Korea recently, the changes in climate along with the air conditioning messed with some of the members immune systems. Some of them were only a bit sniffly for a few days, Jinyoung had a sore throat for a few days and had to be on vocal rest for a day but none of them were hit as badly as their leader. Jaebeom caught himself a rather bad cold upon returning home. He had been a bit feverish for the first few days, so it wasn’t too difficult for his friends to convince him to stay at the dorm and rest, but as soon as his temperature went down, there was no keeping Jaebeom from going back to work. He was a bit sniffly and hoarse but that was nothing he couldn’t work through. What bothered him mostly though, was an intense, chesty cough that would keep him up at night. It also stressed the leader during meetings with their managers, as he kept interrupting them. He wanted to be professional but after a few minutes of trying to suppress his cough, he couldn’t help but choke on it. Jaebeom tried to take care of himself, making sure to stay hydrated and eat healthy, just like he had told his members to, when they started to sound a bit stuffed up after returning to Korea. The only difference was, for them his advice helped. Jaebeom himself did everything he could to take care of himself, except for one thing: rest. Considering it was only a cold, the leader didn’t think of it as bad enough to miss work. It had been different while he had had a fever but now, taking time off just didn’t feel justified.

Maybe him refusing to rest properly was the reason he just didn’t seem to recover. Most of the members were back to normal in no time but Jaebeom just stayed as congested and tired. He had made it a new morning tradition to ditch his coffee in favor of having a cup of tea, especially because he hoped it would keep the coughing at bay. There were a bunch of cough drops in each of his bags to ensure he’d always have some on hand and he often took hot showers, hoping the steam would soothe his lungs and clear him up a bit. It barely helped though and while Jaebeom got over most of his cold, the cough remained. The members, of course, noticed but they knew their friend was more than capable of taking care of himself and aside from the coughing, he didn’t seem to be doing too bad anymore, so they held themselves back from commenting on it. What they weren’t aware of, was that the leader barely got a good night’s rest, often waking himself up coughing, if he even managed to go to sleep in the first place. Jaebeom’s cough seemed to be worst at night, whether that was due to him being tired or the fact that he was laying down, he couldn’t tell and honestly, he didn’t care because it sucked either way.

Today their day started with dance practice, which went surprisingly well and Jaebeom managed to power through with less struggle than expected. They took a few more breaks than they usually would but that way, he could take a few sips of water more frequently and got the chance to properly catch his breath in between. It was all planned that way, a silent agreement between the members to look out for their leader because Jinyoung had heard him cough during the night when he needed to use the bathroom. They were just finishing up, discussing where they’d go for lunch. They didn’t have too much time to eat because Jaebeom would have another meeting soon after lunch. Agreeing on a small diner close by the company building, they threw on some thin sweat-jackets before heading out as they didn’t want to catch another cold so quick after recovering. Jaebeom had taken a thicker hoodie with him, feeling rather chilled from time to time. He was cursing that decision now as he was still running warm after dancing and even considered going out in his practice shirt but both Mark and Jinyoung shot him a stern look. Not wanting to argue, he just put the hoodie on without complaining and followed them out of the practice room.

Jaebeom didn’t have too much of an appetite but since he didn’t know when he’d next get the chance to eat something as their meetings sometimes stretched longer than expected, he knew he should eat something. His throat was already irritated from the amount of coughing he had been doing over the course of the morning, so he couldn’t eat as spicy as he’d usually like and afraid he’d have to do a lot of talking later, he just ordered himself some soup. The others were fooling around while they waited for their food to arrive but Jaebeom was rather quiet, not wanting to strain his voice already before going to his meeting. Usually being the quiet one, Mark shot him a smile from where he sat opposite of the leader. The oldest was always very observant and could tell Jaebeom wasn’t feeling too great but they already knew that, it had been a while since he had been healthy. It wasn’t until the leader turned to the side, muffling a chesty cough into the crook of his arm, till he got worried how the younger would get through the rest of the day. The cough had sounded painful and scraped at his throat too, so Mark couldn’t help but wonder how Jaebeom was going to get through his meeting without losing his voice. Their food arrived and Mark took the opportunity of the others being distracted to ask: “You feel well enough or is your meeting going to suck today?” He didn’t ask if he felt well enough for the meeting because he knew Jaebeom would be going even if he felt like dying. “It won’t be that much fun but I guess it should be alright. My voice is just starting to get strained”, the leader shrugged quietly, clearing his throat afterwards. Giving him a sympathetic smile, Mark nodded, he could tell the other’s voice was slowly giving out.

Jackson had listened in on their exchange but didn’t comment on it. He knew his hyung didn’t like to be fussed about, so he just did his best to keep the conversation between the rest of the group going in hopes of giving the older a chance to rest his voice. Jaebeom ate his soup in silence, chuckling at his dongsaengs roasting each other. Every once in a while, he had to take a break to cough or clear his throat. Jinyoung shot him a few concerned glances that the older deliberately ignored. He was fine after all just coughing a bit. Checking the time, Jaebeom noticed that he was almost running late but since the others were almost done eating as well, he decided to wait for them. They payed and made their way back to the company building, walking faster when they realized their leader would have to meet their managers soon. Jinyoung walked next to him, keeping Jaebeom from running into a lamp post while he was too occupied with coughing to look where he was going. “Hyung, you just can’t shake that cough, hm?”, the younger frowned, noticing how the leader winced when he caught his breath. Jaebeom just cleared his throat, shrugging: “Not really, I have some cough drops with me though, so it should be fine.”

What he hadn’t realized though, was that he had run out of cough drops earlier. He was so used to having an endless amount stuffed into his bag and the pockets of his pants, that the thought of running out seemed unimaginable but on the other side, he was consuming a lot of them, so he probably should have expected it at some point. Jaebeom only realized he had run out, when he wanted to have one before entering the meeting room. Not finding any in his pocket, he rummaged through his bag, only to come up empty again. An uneasy feeling settled in his chest. He needed something to suppress his cough during the meeting because not being in control of his body in front of their managers and higher-ups was stressing him out. On top of that, he didn’t know how he was supposed to keep his voice if he kept coughing. Jaebeom didn’t have any other choice than to somehow suffer through the meeting though, as he was already running late and couldn’t get any medication right now.

Halfway through the meeting, Jaebeom realized that this wasn’t going his way at all. It hadn’t even gotten to the point where it’d be his turn talking but he barely managed to suppress his urge to cough for a few minutes. His voice was thoroughly strained and the leader had to debate his options. He could try to suffer through the rest of the meeting like before but he’d have to present some of the music he currently worked on, which would include a lot of talking on his part and seemed barely possible at the moment. The other option was to text one of his members as soon as he’d get a short break and ask him to pick him up some more cough drops. Although Jaebeom didn’t want to admit it and didn’t want to involve any of his friends, he knew he wouldn’t be able to power through the way it was right now. Making up his mind and swallowing his pride, he desperately waited for a break. He didn’t know whom he should text, so he decided he’d just text their group chat and whoever wasn’t to busy would hopefully help him out.

Though it seemed to never come, they took a break at some point, barely long enough for them to use the bathroom. Instead of using the bathroom, Jaebeom pulled out his phone and texted the GOT7 group chat before sitting back and taking small sips of his water to soothe his irritated throat. He didn’t expect Youngjae to rush in mere seconds before they were going to resume, pressing a few cough drops into his hand and whispering: “Still had a few on me, so I thought you’d rather want them quick.” Jaebeom didn’t get the chance to reply but shot him a grateful smile before the younger slipped out of the room to let them continue. He discreetly slipped one between him lips and had a little more hope to get through this. His voice actually lasted all through the meeting and he made a mental note to thank Youngjae as soon as he got home. First, he’d have to go to the studio though. There were a few songs their managers weren’t too satisfied with and he wanted to see what he could do about it. Before he could really get to work though, he found his phone blowing up with messages from his members. They were confused because they knew their leader wouldn’t ask for help like that if he didn’t really need it.

He shot a quick text back, stating that he was fine but probably needed to stay a bit longer before putting his phone to the side and getting to work. It didn’t go as well as he had hoped though. After finishing all of the cough drops Youngjae had given him, his cough had come back with full vengeance. All the coughs he had fought to hold in were now getting back at him. Reaching for his water bottle with shaking hands, Jaebeom almost spilled it before choking some of it down, which eventually helped the fit to die down. He was so occupied that he didn’t even hear the studio door open until he felt a hand on his shoulder. Tiredly looking up, he found Jackson standing next to his chair. “Hyung, that only sounds worse now”, the rapper frowned, placing a new bag of cough drops onto the desk. Jaebeom shook his head. It was always worse in the evenings, even more so now because he was tired. Clearing his throat, he rasped: “Thanks for those.” – “Hyung, did it ever occur to you that you might not get over this cough because you don’t give your body enough time to rest?”, Jackson commented. Sure, he had come to bring his hyung what he had asked for but mainly he had come to take the older home. Rubbing his face, Jaebeom sighed: “What’s the use of resting if I can’t sleep anyway? Might as well be useful and get something done.” – “What do you mean, you can’t sleep? Aren’t you tired after a full day of schedule?”, the rapper frowned. Rolling his eyes, the leader looked at him as if he was stupid. Of course, he was tired and yes, he’d love to sleep but he knew that he couldn’t. “It doesn’t matter how tired I am, I’ll stay up all night coughing anyway”, he muttered, already turning away to cough again. Cringing at the sound, Jackson shut of the computer before opening the bag of cough drops to hand the older one. He knew for a fact that Jinyoung had gotten some new night-time cough syrup, which would hopefully knock the other out for a few hours. Jaebeom looked confused when he found the computer off but Jackson was quick to explain that they were going home now. Maybe it was the exhaustion of the day which made the leader readily go along with it.

They made their way back to the dorm in silence, as Jaebeom’s voice was so worn out by now that every sound hurt. He hadn’t noticed Jackson texting the rest of the group before they left but when they got home, Jinyoung had already prepared a pot of tea, while the maknae’s had piled a few blankets on the leader’s bed. They knew their hyung wasn’t one for cuddles so instead of setting up the couch, they tried to make his room as comfortable as possible. He hadn’t noticed until now, just how badly the lack of sleep was getting to him, so when he finally kicked off his shoes, he just wanted to go to sleep. The members however had other plans, knowing their friend hadn’t eaten yet. They made Jaebeom eat a small dinner and take a shower before Jinyoung guided the older to his room and placed the tea on the nightstand, explaining: “I got you this cough syrup, it’s specifically for the night, so it’ll probably make you really drowsy but hopefully you’ll be able to get some more sleep tonight.” – “Thanks, Jinyoung-ah”, the leader rasped, sipping his tea. He’d probably read a book while he finished his tea and then indeed give that cough syrup a try because anything was better than spending another night awake only to cough his lungs up. And what could he say, his dongsaengs taking care of him already did make him feel a little soft.

#got7 #fanfic #fanfiction #sick #sickfic #fluff #comfort #im jaebeom #sicktember2021

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btsandvmin · 4 years ago

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What made you like Jimin individually and Taehyung individually ? And do you have a slight preference between the two ?

I love all the members so much, and for me picking a bias is still kind of difficult. I have concluded that I do bias both Jimin and Tae but kind of switch between them at different times for different reasons. As for a bias wrecker I legit cannot choose and it changes all the time.

The way I got into BTS was through the BST MV and then trying to learn the members (the first one I learned and checked up on was Namjoon). I also got fascinated by the BU storyline as storytelling and analysis/reviews is a big hobby of mine (the fandoms I’ve been in are many, and character/story analyses/reviews/theories are something I have engaged in a lot).

On top of that I work in the media industry and have an interest for visual storytelling as well and I got hooked by the concepts, the beautiful MV and the both story-based and symbolical clues they left. I also loved their music and like groups in general because of the interesting vocal dynamics you can create. Basically, BTS managed to hit all my buttons and I had to look up more.

Mind you, I barely knew the members' names properly and I was already investigating the meaning of their MV and storyline. I listened to their album and loved the songs before I could tell which member was who. (Both Awake and First love made me cry without even knowing the lyrics). I also have to mention how much I love both of Vmin’s voices, who are both very unique and interesting. I basically biased their voices before I knew who they were. (Fun or sad fact but I am really bad with faces and actually learned the members' singing voices before their faces.)

Let’s just say that I got into the music and visuals/concept first, and then started to consume material to get to know the members. They all also had incredible chemistry between each other and reminded me a lot of one of my favorite j-pop groups with their dynamics.

What I started to watch was “get to know them” videos and recent interviews and clips, meaning from BST era. It was hard for me to not notice Jimin (even though vocal line were the ones I had the hardest time separating from each other in the very beginning). And perhaps even more so since the introduction videos tended to have a lot better and varied things to say about Jimin amongst vocal line. But even on his own Jimin simply stood out to me during the BST era when I joined. He took a lot of space in the group as a performer (especially with his high notes, his dancing, his hair and his outfits all combined) but also as an individual in off stage material. I fell for his voice and performance and the “Jimin effect” was hitting me hard.

I also related to him a lot. I am a sort of clingy but shy person who is a perfectionist and likes being in control. I also thought he was both cute and funny without being too over the top with things like aegyo (I mean, we all know he is horrible at it when he tries to do it on purpose). I think the way Jimin is so open (though private) makes him easy to understand and relate to. He has a lot of different moods and there is an honesty in how much he shows us even though he clearly still remained in control.

As time went by, I found myself focusing on Jimin more than the other members and I realized my bias. I was simply drawn to him more than the others from the start. That in turn brings me to Taehyung... Because honestly, at the time it was impossible not to notice their closeness. And looking up a lot of old material, where Jimin was there was also Taehyung. They were very clingy and had a lot of cute interactions. One of the first things I watched of their more off-stage material was also Bon Voyage in Scandinavia (being from there myself I was extra curious) and the Vmin moments in there just cemented their bond for me.

I am not saying I only appreciate Tae for ship reasons, simply that Vmin got my attention early on and that did make me focus more on Taehyung as well. I thought as many that he was a bit odd, but very funny and playful, that he was incredibly good-looking (my opinion from the start was that JK and Tae were the most good-looking) but also a bit difficult to read. Taehyung made me want to understand him, and I was interested in him for quite different reasons than how I related to Jimin. I love him for his way of thinking and how he seems to have this innocence or happiness in the small things about him. Like, Tae getting lost in Sweden but still being happy about the small adventure, enjoying himself and stopping to blow on a dandelion might just be one of the most endearing things I have ever seen. (Honestly, another point I relate to Jimin on so much is his love for Tae and how he just makes us smile no matter what he does.)

Of course, as they change and as I get to watch them more, the more I find to love and appreciate (as well as flaws of course) and now I would say all the members are just very precious to me and I love them both for who they are on their own and for their bond as a group. It is impressive and not to be understated how rare it is to find a bond like theirs. I have seen many groups, and few are as compatible as BTS, and few seem to truly love each other the way they do.

But as for bias it will likely always be Jimin and Taehyung unless there is some drastic change.

For Jimin I love the way he dances while controlling every fiber of his body, the way he pours love into all his relationships but isn’t afraid to call people out, the way he keeps getting funnier (I think Jimin’s sense of humor is so underrated), the way he acts like an angel but actually has the whole world fooled (and he knows it), the way he shows his emotions so animatedly no matter if he gets annoyed or laughs with his whole body, the way he knows his principles and stands his ground when he believes in something, the way he works so hard to improve and better himself both as a performer and as a human, the way he thinks about things deeply and is so eloquent with how to express it, the way he is there for both ARMY, his members and even strangers because he is empathic to his core. There is a lot to love with Jimin, and he always makes sure to return that love when deserved.

For Taehyung I love the way he stand against the norms, the way he shows it’s ok to be different and embrace himself and others without judgement, the way he almost plays with us when he performs, the way he sings with such emotion and how he loves to express himself through all kinds of art forms, the way he learns and take in valid criticism but isn’t afraid to call bullshit, the way he knows when to be serious but also the importance of having fun, the way he is both the biggest dork and a fierce performer at once (I mean he can be so unapologetically silly and then suddenly switch to lethal seduction), the way his unique way of thinking opens up to new points of view, the way he can’t help but show his excitement or love for something and wants to share it with the people around him. He goes all out when he loves something and doesn’t hide his opinions when he doesn’t. Taehyung is just a very honest (though perfectly capable of lying and fooling us thank you very much) and incredible person that I both admire and adore.

There is just so much, and even small things get to me, like don’t get me started on their smiles, or even just their habits when they laugh... (how Tae usually laughs quietly but once in a while will let out these light giggles, or the way Jimin seem to automatically covers his face when he laughs).

I love them both to death (as all the members). It is not easy to just sit down and pour years of love into words, but I tried. I love them both as singers, performers, artists, and humans. I also love them as soulmates and how much they both just spread love and positivity to the people around them. The impact they have had on me, and surely many of you, is hard to comprehend. I am so lucky and happy that I decided to become a fan of this wonderful group and these wonderful people.

Phew, that was a lot wasn’t it? All opinion based, probably a bit hard to understand and not very well structured either. This is all just a flow of consciousness, and I likely forgot to mention a lot of things I could have said. Even so I hope you found it a nice read. :) Thank you for the ask.

#taehyung #jimin #vmin #kim taehyung #park jimin #my story #vmin appriciation #my post #btsandvmin ask #btsandvmin answer #btsandvmin #vmin blood sweat and tears #bts

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delimeful · 4 years ago

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Heya!!! I love your WIBAR AU so, so much!!! It's definitely one of my favorite ones in the fandom and it's so awesome, well written, fabulous and aaaaaa! Btw, I was wondering if WIBAR!Virgil had any stimming and how the crew™ react when they found out? I don't know if someone has asked this, so thankys! ^w^)/

Anonymous said: Saw all the crew sees human do x post and got curious. How would the crew react to humans stimming? Like some humans will do the same thing over and over again for no real discernable reason? Like when we tap out fingers on a flat surface or shake our legs or our weird need to play the same song on repeat for hours if not days till we're sick of it. What about stuff like rocking or chewing or wiggling? I can't help but think about it now that it's in my head. -♠️

Anonymous said: how would the alien crew react to human disorders? they probably have a few alike ones, but i'm personally curious about stuff like adhd and autism. i can't imagine the initial reaction to stuff like stimming would be good, since it can be kinda unpredictable behavior but they'd prob warm up to it eventually.

like i said, our lads are familiar with the concept of neurodivergence so theyd probably be confused and maybe slightly alarmed at certain human stims, but for the most part its just another semi-surprising new part of a new culture. not sure what else to say on the matter; there’s no dramatic reactions or anything to be had here.

here are some stims for the crew, instead:

Logan - he stims physically and mentally through the constant, contained movement of his arms! most ulgorii don’t constantly mindweave like he does, and when they do reach out with their arms, its to make contact with others for telepathy purposes. (with his constant movement but refusal to engage others, Lo would be considered both somewhat hyperactive and fairly reclusive back home.) sometimes when he’s stuck on a problem or equation, he’ll just weave the same hand-pattern over and over again until he get it. when he’s really excited he’ll accidentally break whatever info hes weaving to just flap his hands around for a moment. he has totally accidentally smacked everyone on the mindscape once or twice, but he’s got little twig limbs so nobody got hurt :P

Patton - vocal stims! part of the reason he has so much fun showing virgil new words or tunes in Ampen language; the Human doesnt mind just repeating the chirps back to him for as long as he wants, even if he fixates a little! he would really vibe with the human experience of saying some nonsense Good Mouthfeel phrase over and over while wandering the house. he likes to fill the air whenever its quiet, and often trills in whatever repetitive pattern he’s feeling that day on and off throughout the hours! it actually helps the rest of the crew know where he is, just by a little three note tune occasionally playing somewhere in the background as he moves through the ship. for both virgil and roman especially, its really reassuring background noise.

Roman - ro’s stims are for the most part very physical, from whole body stuff like rocking/folding over into a ball or moving his tail back and forth rhythmically, to small stuff like scrunching and unscrunching his nose or opening and closing his claws/hands. he also really likes the sound of when his scales click and shift against each other (patton agrees) so sometimes he will just do that to listen to the noises. he counts breaths compulsively when hes afraid, though the new sensory grounding trick logan picked up has been helping him recently. he doesnt like to do these things in front of others and will repress them in public, but over time he’s gotten to trust pat and lo enough to casually stim on the Mindscape.

Virgil - perhaps unsurprisingly, lots of the self-soothing stuff virgil has developed over the past few years is actually pretty maladaptive when taken too far, like pulling on his hair/chewing on himself/scratching incessantly at the inside of his elbow/ect. to focus when hes freaking out. he tried to avoid any kind of stimming once around patton and the others, since he kind of figured that theyd be freaked out and/or upset with him, but patton is a very perceptive friend and everyone on the mindscape knows very well that Brains Can Be A Fuck. patton has started a veritable hoard of chewable stuff, since virgil tends to actually break a lot of them on accident, and logan has looked into researching braiding because virgil is less likely to mess with his hair if it’s pulled back/in a hairstyle. despite what virge thinks, neither of them are responsible for the box of hairties that mysteriously appeared in his room.

#asks #spade anon #anonymous #kanene-yaaay-o-retorno #wibar #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #wibar story lore #stimming #self harm mention #:')#queue

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woodrokiro · 4 years ago

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Do It For the Band, Part Four

Fandom: Bleach

Pairing: IchiRuki

Summary: When Tatsuki said she wanted their sophomore album to be the next Rumours, this is NOT what she meant. Band AU. Read Part One, Two, and Three.

Rukia’s sure they’re not crossing any lines.

… Pretty sure.

She’s never been in a band like this before--or, well. A band, period. And from the movies she’s watched, the musician biographies she’s read and the behind-the-album documentaries she’s seen she imagines her group’s closeness is normal. Grabbing a tea and writing in a coffee shop with Chad, meeting up with Tatsuki at bars and picking out cute girls the drummer might like--these sort of things are normal. They’re her friends, after all.

And she doesn’t do much different with Ichigo. It just… Feels different.

Especially when they start spending time together after recording sessions.

They don’t even do anything, really. Mostly just put on a record at Ichigo’s place and talk about their favorite albums. Sometimes they’ll watch a movie together: Rukia on one far end of his tattered, second-hand couch, curled into the arm while Ichigo tries to scrounge something up for dinner in the kitchen behind her.

And… Okay, she’s fallen asleep there. A couple times. But in a completely platonic way. She’ll wake up on his couch with a blanket over her, and Ichigo will walk in and nag at her for sinking the cushions of his couch and she’ll groggily snap back that maybe he should get a new couch then--

She’s stayed late there so often that Ichigo bought her a toothbrush to keep in the bathroom (“I can smell your morning breath all the way from the bedroom”), but it’s fine because it is! So! Platonic!!!

They’re friends. They’re friends.

She’s (pretty) sure of it.

It’s the end of the recording sessions when they go to her place because she had forgotten the champagne she meant to bring for celebrating their last day. The recording studio happened to be only a few blocks away, but he insisted on walking back with her to grab them.

(“Shut up and let me be a gentleman” he had grumbled, and Rukia tries to ignore Tatsuki’s stare piercing them both).

They had just finished climbing the six stories in her apartment building when she spies the roses at her door.

He scoffs. “Who are those from? Yourself?”

She rolls her eyes, picking up the flowers to read the card attached. “Good one, idiot. No. My brother.”

“Byakuya? What the hell does he want?”

She’s surprised he remembers his name; then again, she supposes she’s mentioned him in passing enough times.

It’s funny: the little details they know about each other by now.

“Don’t talk about him so crudely. I told him about the album awhile ago.”

“Yeah, and you said he never responded.” He waits respectfully in the hallway as she unlocks her door. She immediately starts shuffling through her studio in an attempt to find a vase. “I don’t get why you still talk to him. The guy kicks you out of the house, takes away your allowance you depend on--just because he doesn’t want you to do music? The thing he arranged for you to have lessons for in the first place?”

“You’re oversimplifying it.” She rummages through her cupboards. “He wanted me to go to college for a career--I told him I didn’t want to. I said I wanted to be a musician. He said that was fine, I was a young woman who could make her own decisions… And as such, I’d need to do it on my own. I agreed. I don’t want anybody’s money, and he’s helped me enough as it is.”

“... He should still support you--”

“He does. In his own way.” Her eyes light up at what she’s been looking for: the glass beaker for a French press that broke on her a couple weeks ago. She lifts it with one hand and the roses in the other, a silent question toward him. At Ichigo’s shrug/nod combo, she starts filling the beaker with tap water. “Maybe he doesn’t vocally support it. The creative life is scary. You know that. Technically you wouldn’t want your sisters as starving musicians either, right? But a couple months before I met up with you guys, I was behind on my rent. One day, right before I was sure I was going to get kicked out: my landlord says it was all paid for. Just like that. And I’ve sworn every day, up and down, that my brother’s never going to need to do that for me ever again.”

“He should want to do that for you.”

“I think he does. But I want to make my own way, and he knows that. These flowers are more than kind.” She steps back and assesses her flower arrangement in the beaker, nodding once. Good enough.

He’s uncharacteristically quiet as she grabs the two bottles from her fridge and returns back to the hallway. She’s attempting to lock her front door with the bottles in one arm and keys in the other when he snorts, tapping her wine-carrying arm.

“Here, I’ll take ‘em.” Begrudgingly, she hands them over. “You try to do too much by yourself.”

“Yes, because I have to.” She focuses her attention back on the lock (the door could be rather tricky) when she feels him nudge her arm again.

“No. You really don’t.” She looks back and up at him and suddenly for the first time they feel very, very close. “Look I don’t--the fact that your brother doesn’t know what a fucking phenominal talent you have astounds me. But you have people now. You have me.”

Time completely stops as they stare at each other. Rukia feels frozen in place--but Ichigo is… Well. He looks like he’s only sort of embarrassed at own sentiment, judging from the faint blush on his cheeks--but mostly he seems sure of himself, confident and fearless and golden.

That is Ichigo, she realizes. She’s really never met anyone like him.

She’ll never know what either of them were about to do when suddenly her neighbor’s door swings open behind him.

The sound jolts them both, and her elderly neighbor smiles apologetically. She waves, and when she looks back at him Ichigo is looking down at his shoes, clearing his throat.

“Hurry up ‘n lock the door. The others are waiting for us--especially Tatsuki. You know how stoked she was when you told her about the champagne.”

Rukia nods and tries to shake the odd feeling that an opportunity was just missed.

---

They’re getting a tour.

Tatsuki is in euphorics. They’re getting a fucking tour.

Urahara says they’re starting small--mostly because the label wants to test the waters on them. Just four cities, fronting for a rock band called Espada. They’re all kind of douchey assholes but it doesn’t even matter. She knows her band is better, and in just a few years they’ll be begging to front for Karakura Soul Society.

Still, even though it’s a small tour Tatsuki manages to sweet talk Urahara into hiring her good friend as their stage manager. “We need somebody to keep us organized back there. Help us sound check and everything, you know? And frankly, Urahara… You’re a mess.”

… It becomes clear to the team within the first ten minutes of her employment that Orihime Inoue is also, as it happens, a disaster--but she’s bubbly and ambitious and works hard and Tatsuki may be not-so-secretly in love with her so of course everyone loves her immediately, too.

Once they’re on the road, the whole tour itself is kind of a blur. Their first city is… Decent. They sound great, but there’s some tech issues that Orihime apologizes profusely for. Grimmjow, the lead singer of Espada says something snide about “fucking yuppies” and Ichigo and Tatsuki both have to be held back from absolutely pulvarizing the cocky motherfucker--but yeah it’s decent.

At least, Urahara points out, it adds a bit of a competitive edge between the two bands.

He’s right. The next couple cities they absolutely kill it.

With Chad’s shredding it on his base and Tatsuki feeling like a God at her drums--the two of them alone would be something to contend with.

But combined with Ichigo and Rukia…

Tatsuki doesn’t know what’s going on between them, and frankly: she doesn’t care anymore. She’s decided it’s none of her business whether her best friend is getting his brains screwed out or if they really are “just friends,” as Rukia insists.

What matters is what’s going right here, right in the performance.

As usual, they are so in sync with each other it’s scary--but now, there’s emotion too. There’s an electric energy when they sing the chorus to Fullbringer, a deep melancholy when they harmonize on Masaki. The band is only able to perform about five of their songs, but they’ve arranged the order so the audience gets to go through a journey--and it all ends on Sun and Moon.

It’s easily their best crowd pleaser, and for good reason.

It sounds cheesy, but there is such an upbeat joy to the song that even scowl-loving Ichigo grins during its entirety, and Rukia--always so poised--bounces at her keyboard, bopping her head to the beat. The bridge is absolutely wild, and the whole thing moves so fast that Tatsuki is going harder at her drums than she ever has. It was a bitch to practice, but man. Man does it it fucking end a show.

At the end of Espada’s last show, the crowd demands an encore… From their front band.

“Eat shit,” Grimmjow hisses as they unexpectedly make their way back to the stage, and Tatsuki knows for an asshole like him to be this pissed: it’s a compliment.

---

They’re feeling so pumped about the whole tour that at the end of that encore, even Chad agrees to go out to a nearby pub to celebrate.

The group is on Cloud 9 as they float into the semi-crowded bar, and Tatsuki feels even more of a high when some of the patrons--fresh from the show--cheer as they enter. A guy orders the band shots, and from that point on things get… Uh. Kind of blurry.

Chad does manage to escape early, but not before she challenges him to a game of who can drink a pint faster. Orihime glows next to her as she sips her own fruity cocktail, cheering Tatsuki on in a way that makes her feel powerful even when she loses. Occasionally she catches her friend glancing over at Ichigo with a soft smile that Tatsuki… Doesn’t really want to notice right now. She’s having such a good time, so for what?

Urahara floats, chuckling behind his fan about this and that--leading to a brief debate between Ichigo and Tatsuki whether he’s high, drunk, or both. Rukia pops up out of nowhere, offering a convincing argument of: neither. Urahara is just fucking batshit.

Ichigo and Tatsuki stare at the unexpected profanity.

“What?” Rukia’s face is flushed, and she tries (unsuccessfully) to look like she has the decency to be embarrassed. Suddenly, she grins toothily, grabbing Ichigo’s hand and dragging him to the bar corner’s jukebox. “C’mon, idiot. You’re helping me pick out a song.”

Tatsuki doesn’t pay much more attention to the two after that--she’s too busy getting another drink, getting Orihime another drink, seeing if she can get Urahara to confess he’s committed at least one felony in his lifetime, and if so which one--but she happens to overhear their conversation at one point when they’re getting drinks.

“... Swift is a stellar songwriter, Kurosaki. I’m telling you--”

“Come oooooon--”

“No, you--you come on, Ichigo. Ichigo Kurosaki.” Rukia pokes her finger at Ichigo’s chest, and Tatsuki sees him failing to hide a smile. “She had a… Taylor has iffy periods, of course she does. But have you… Have you even listened to the lyrics of Blank Space?

“Whassat?”

“You’ve heard that song, don’t you--don’t you even start--”

Tatsuki rolls her eyes and takes her leave. Listening to drunk straight people flirt is excruciating.

Still: whether it’s from the warm buzz of alcohol or the general high of the good night or her just loving her friends… She’s happy for them.

When she leaves, Blank Space is blaring from the jukebox. She looks back to see Rukia and Ichigo intimately close. Rukia is beaming up at him, shouting over the music that she can only imagine is the song lyrics. Ichigo’s body is curved toward her, watching and bobbing his head with a soft smile.

Good for them, Tatsuki thinks dreamily before immediately finding a dumpster to throw up in.

#ichiruki #bleach #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #my stuff #do it for the band

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the-odd-job · 4 years ago

Text

Harem AU Chapter 18 - Made Of

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Sunstreaker & Sideswipe Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Soundwave, Shockwave, Chromia, Lancer, First Aid, Perceptor, Greenlight Additional Tags: Noncon Experimentation, Angst Words: 14547

( Previous )

Sunstreaker still had a limp the next day. It wasn’t just pain that had stolen his legs from under him—apparently Megatron had generously messed up his entire hips. Knock Out had fixed or replaced everything, but they didn’t have the time to wait for the parts to fully integrate before Hot Shot came to let them know they were wanted at the door.

They could guess what that was about.

At least Sunstreaker stayed on his pedes well enough, partially numb areas making his movement lag or not. The guards opened the doors for them, and on the other side was waiting… The same blue mech that had given them their dinner instructions. He had another smile to give them. “Good morning. Master Shockwave sent me to get you.”

As they’d guessed, then. They nodded their understanding and the mate waved them along. No guards moved to accompany them, oddly enough. Was it because the way wasn’t that long?

It didn’t seem like that was the case when they headed for the elevators instead of any of the other wings on the same floor. Sideswipe watched the number the mate picked on the lift’s control panel. They were way high up, nearly at the top of the whole damn tower.

Their destination, according to the floor the elevator was directed to go to, was far, far lower. He wasn't sure they'd ever gone that low in the tower. They'd been brought in via a rotorflier that had already landed pretty high up, and they'd only gone higher still from there.

Total opposite now. It was going to be a long ride.

And awkwardly quiet if no one said anything, in Sideswipe's opinion. Or, well, awkward for him. Sunstreaker wasn't likely to care, and he wasn't sure the other mate would either.

But in the name of not feeling so awkward himself, Sideswipe spoke up. “You’re from… Shockwave’s harem?” he asked. The blue mech had a brand on him and was clearly running around on Shockwave's business, so…

They confirmed it. "I am. We never had proper introductions, did we? I'm Chromia." His field flared in proper greeting and Sideswipe's automatically responded to it. Sunstreaker's did too, after a moment's delay.

"You probably know our designations already," Sideswipe hazarded, a guess Chromia confirmed with a nod. He had to have asked for them specifically, anyways. Hard to do that if you didn't know who you were supposed to get.

But if they were going to have some small talk… There were things Sideswipe was curious about, and Chromia might just have some answers.

Firstly, "How high ranking is Shockwave, exactly?"

"He answers only to Lords Megatron and Soundwave," Chromia said, and it looked like this wasn't an off limits topic, because he stayed relaxed and casual. "He's Lord Megatron's Head of Scientific Research. Rather important figure, as I'm sure you can imagine."

As for his part, Sideswipe wasn't feeling very relaxed or casual when keeping in mind where they were going, but tried to pretend he was anyway. Just chit chat, that was all! And learning a bit more about Kaon's ruling class or whatever you wanted to call it while at it. That couldn't hurt.

But. So. They were headed to get experimented on by what might be the third most powerful mech in Kaon, when they'd already established to themselves that you didn't make it to ranks like that by being nice. "What's he like? Shockwave I mean,” Sideswipe asked carefully. What kind of things could one even say about their mate? ‘Oh, they’re a total rapist and abuser, real jackass, I hate their guts’.

No one in Megatron’s harem would’ve said that. Well, aside from him and Sunstreaker. They would’ve said that.

"Hm?" Chromia looked at him, although Sideswipe wouldn't have called his expression all the way surprised.

He really wasn't sure what to call it at all, but Chromia answered him anyway, unreadable emotions or not. "He's fair, I'll give him that. Unapologetic in the pursuit of knowledge, but you don't need to worry about that. Lord Megatron doesn't allow harm to come to his mates. Master Shockwave respects that."

Out of genuine respect, or because Megatron would do something very bad to him if he broke his rules? Probably the latter.

"What do you mean, 'unapologetic'?" Sunstreaker spoke up sharply. Chromia gave him that same look that neither of them could quite name.

"He'll go as far as he needs to to get answers, when orders otherwise aren't holding him back."

Like orders would be holding him back in his and Sunstreaker's case. Hopefully. But the implications behind those words were… Heavy. Chromia didn't outright say so, but Sideswipe could imagine that as far as he needs to really did mean as far as he needs to. Ethics, morals? Damn those, most likely. It would fit the rest of the place. All the other things they’d already seen and felt them do… What was some experimentation while at it? The subjects probably didn’t consent, but consent meant jackall here.

They weren’t consenting either, but Megatron had given them up for tests and whatever else, so… That was what was going to happen. Chromia’s assurances that no harm would come to them felt thin when he fully expected that even some very unpleasant things would count as not harm.

Then, was it too personal to ask… Sideswipe asked anyway. “How long have you been in his harem?”

Megatron’s harem didn’t talk about things like that, but then again, they hadn’t gone out of their way to ask either. They had no idea how long anyone there had been in Megatron’s clutches, or how they’d gotten caught in that net, what their life was like before… None of that. They had no idea.

But Chromia wasn’t put off by that question either and merely chuckled. “Oh, most of my life at this point. I wasn’t that old when I fought in the Pits to prove my worth and gain the interest of the court—and succeeded! Master Shockwave chose me over all the others.”

He sounded… Proud. Really proud, but Sideswipe couldn’t get past the feeling that this didn’t quite compute.

Fought? Gain interest? Chose, like that was a… A good thing?

Sunstreaker recovered from their shock slightly faster, at least partway—enough to ask an entirely incredulous, “You… Wanted to become a mate?”

Chromia nodded, still looking all kinds of self-satisfied. “It is an honor. Not everyone wants it, understandably, but– You’re not Kaonites, are you? Here, those that desire it are given the option to try to impress the court enough to be chosen. Lord Megatron has a pair too, ah, what were their names… Runamuck and Runabout? They were quite a sight when they fought; I’m not surprised Lord Megatron himself would choose them.”

Primus. That was a hell of a lot to digest after all the slag they’d gone through and seen and heard about and… Slag. And they sure as pit hadn’t known that about Runamuck and Runabout, but that was no surprise since they didn’t know that much about anyone.

Sideswipe released a ventilation he hadn’t realized he was holding, leaning against the wall of the elevator. He felt a little woozy right there. This, the information that some came to this life willingly and even thought of it as a good thing, an honor as Chromia put it… It went against everything they felt. This was hell to them. There was nothing good about any of it.

And some fought to get to their garbage standing.

But not everyone. “Why doesn’t everyone want it?” Sideswipe had to ask, not particularly fond of the way his voice was caught somewhere between a squeak and a wheeze, but at least his vocalizer worked. That was something.

“It’s a sacrifice,” Chromia shrugged. “You give up a lot of your freedoms and lay your future in the hands of another. It’s not a choice that should be made lightly.

“But many consider the tradeoff worth it. You get to be so close to our leaders, to serve Kaon in such a way, maybe make yourself more useful than you would’ve been otherwise. And obviously, the surroundings you’re given are very lavish and comfortable. There isn’t a hell of a lot to complain about, at the end of the day.”

Not a lot to complain about.

Right on the heels of admitting that even those that took the role willingly lost their freedom, as if Runamuck and Runabout weren’t enough proof of that. They had never suspected there was anything different about them, because they didn’t get treated any differently. They were as stuck in the harem wing as everyone else. They didn’t have magical rights to leave at will.

But… What? It was worth it because they got to be Megatron’s berth toys and ‘serve Kaon’ through their servitude to its sovereign leader?

If that was the logic, then the other set of twins was probably even more honored than Chromia. Chromia only belonged to the third most powerful mech, whereas Runamuck and Runabout belonged to the most powerful.

It was so messed up.

Arguing probably wouldn’t have worked any better than it did with Megatron’s mates, though. If outlanders, those that had clearly come from outside of Kaon, bought into this bullshit, then how much more were natives going to do the same? They were raised here, into this culture of… What was it? Extreme nationalism or something? If it was drilled into them from the moment they were activated, how was Sideswipe going to change their mind in the duration of one elevator ride?

“How often do those fights take place?” Sunstreaker asked, his voice tight.

“Rarely, sadly. The court does try to keep the sizes of their harems manageable, and that won’t work if they’re hoarding new mates at every turn.”

And it looked like quite a few mecha were brought from outside for some reason. Why even do that if there were willing mecha within your own city?

He asked that much, and Chromia didn’t withhold that answer either. “In part it’s kindness, to rescue mecha from Unified Cybertron into the cultural freedom of Kaon. But maybe a bit more than that, it’s… How would I put it. A delicacy for the ruling class? They have a far wider range of frame types to choose from, and there is always allure to frames you might not find in Kaon at all, or at least not often.”

Kindness.

Delicacy.

So ultimately this whole thing was just because of the arrogance and egotism of Kaon’s ruling class. It wasn’t enough to take willing mecha from within their city’s walls, they wanted the exotic goods from elsewhere too—nevermind what those goods thought about. Living mecha with wills and sparks of their own, brought here to… To…

Slag. Slag it all.

Maybe they were better off not knowing any of this. Blissful ignorance had kept them from realizing the full extent of Kaon’s depravity, but they were quickly falling down the rabbit hole of being horrifically informed of how Kaonites thought. It didn’t look a hell of a lot like it was only the court that thought this was somehow acceptable. Was the general populace of that opinion too? Did they think being a mate was such an honor that anyone who got brought here for it should be grateful and devote their damn lives to Kaon without question?

“How many harems are there?” Sunstreaker asked while Sideswipe was still busy trying to sort his thoughts into any kind of a functional order with very little success.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually counted,” Chromia mused, then began to tick mecha off with his digits without actually saying anything before he’d apparently counted them all. “Nine or ten, if I remember everyone? Lord Soundwave should have one too, but he’s never taken any mates himself, for whatever reason.”

“Is that why Megatron shares… Us? With him?”

“Possibly. I won’t pretend to know their reasoning, but Lord Megatron and Lord Soundwave are good friends.”

So apparently they could build friendships too. That was almost surprising.

“How big are the harems?” Sunstreaker, again.

“Usually around ten members, and I think there’s at least one that is over twenty mates strong. Lord Megatron’s is undoubtedly the largest, though, as is fitting for a mech of his standing.”

Several times the size of his subordinates’ harems, in other words. What greed.

The elevator stopped, effectively cutting their bit of interrogation short. Chromia, still, didn’t look at all perturbed by all of their questions, just gestured them along when the doors opened to a hallway that didn’t look that different from any of the other hallways they’d seen. They took a couple of turns until they came to double doors similar to what led to the wings located on the harem’s floor. There were guards here too, like there were everywhere, but the doors opened on Chromias approach and in they went.

At first it didn’t look so different and he wondered just where Shockwave was going to do their testing, but then they went through another set of doors, and suddenly there were hallways and doors all over the place leading to who knew where. Maybe just rooms, maybe other, closed off hallways. They took two ramps down, then through big doors, again, and he was getting kind of lost already.

But Chromia walked ahead of them with confidence, so they followed and tried not to worry about it too much.

More smaller doors and corridors, up until they stopped in front of one specific door that, to Sideswipe, didn’t look any different from all the others. Chromia pinged for entrance, and with minimal delay the door slid out of their way. They followed the blue mech into the room, although they didn’t follow in the short bow Chromia gave to… Shockwave.

Shockwave was looking at them. “Here they are, master,” Chromia said.

The apparent scientist only responded with, “Dismissed,” and at once their guide took his leave. The door closed behind him, and there they were. In a room. With the very creepy Shockwave. The door probably wouldn’t open for them even if they tried to get out.

“First Aid,” Shockwave called without actually raising his voice, and a mech they hadn’t noticed set something down on the other side of the room before scurrying over. They could just catch a glimpse of a brand on his shoulder. Another of Shockwave’s mates, then, which… Was a little weird. Were they working together?

“Yes, master?” First Aid asked once he got closer, and pits but it grated to hear the title at every turn. They were clearly too used to the casual air in Megatron’s harem, at least when the tyrant wasn’t present. Even Megatron’s mates spoke in a more respectful manner around him. Yes, my Lord; of course, master—the works.

It didn’t look to be so different with Shockwave, in that aspect.

“Get them ready,” was the instruction Shockwave said before he turned away. First Aid voiced his understanding, then waved the twins forward.

To the center of the room, where there were two berths, currently pushed together to form one larger slab. The lights in the ceiling above it were too bright for comfort, and Sideswipe couldn’t even begin to name the contraptions that circled around the lights, ready to be pulled down for use. “If you’d lay down and open your chestplates, please,” First Aid requested once they got next to the berths.

Righty! Apparently there was going to be no warmup whatsoever. “Not even a single date first?” Sideswipe said, and it was such a weak joke and his obvious nervousness only made it weaker, but First Aid nevertheless snorted before quickly smoothing his field. Sideswipe could imagine the same happened to his face, if he had one, but once again there was both a mask and a visor in use. It was impossible to tell what was behind them.

Sunstreaker reached to squeeze his arm before his brother hopped onto one of the berths. Sideswipe followed, and only after they were both sitting on their respective berths did they lay down fully.

“Open your chestplates and bare your sparks, please,” First Aid repeated when they didn’t do that right away. Sunstreaker bit his denta together so hard his jaw ached and Sideswipe gnawed on his bottom lip until he was sure to leave marks–

But after a few more moments of hesitation, they both initiated the transformation in their chassis—their chestplates pushed apart, then their internals moved out of the way, and even more reluctantly their spark chambers pushed forward, until those too opened to let their sparklight through.

“Thank you,” was all First Aid said, looking back in Shockwave’s direction. They didn’t know what the scientist was doing, but fraggit, could he hurry up with it. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to lay around with their spark in plain view, even if there were only two other mecha present to see.

Two mecha too many.

Luckily Shockwave didn’t take that long before he came over, pulling along a cart with more… Things on it. Probably some science thingies, but they wouldn’t know one whit about that sort of stuff.

“Don’t close your chestplates,” Shockwave ordered them, and Sideswipe had just the time to worry why he saw fit to say that much–

And then Shockwave had already brought a fancy looking vernier right up to his spark, and by the pits his first instinct was to slam his chestplates right back shut alright. There wasn’t even a warning! Unless the order was the warning. It was a crappy warning if that was the case.

Instead of trying to close his chestplates, though, Sideswipe tried to sit up instead, not because he was really thinking clearly, but just because it wasn’t cool to have something so close to his spark–

But First Aid caught him by the shoulders before he could get anywhere and pressed him back down with surprising strength.

“Stay still,” Shockwave said, staring at him with that one lonely optic. “You will be restrained if you don’t cooperate.”

...Right. Okay. So. Reminder. There was no saying no to any of this, and honestly he was getting pretty damn worried here–

But Sideswipe bit his lip harder and nodded his understanding even as Sunstreaker growled deep from his frame.

Shockwave stared at him for a few more seconds before he repeated his original motion and… Brought the measuring tool to his spark. Then he tightened it until it was just on this side if uncomfortable, stopping only when Sideswipe hissed at the near pain.

But he got the diameter as far as Sideswipe could tell, and seemed satisfied with that. He left Sideswipe and his half of their spark alone and went to do the same to Sunstreaker, and Sunstreaker growled some more but didn’t put up a fight. There was exactly nothing they could do whether or not they were tied down, but they’d still rather have even the illusion of being able to protect themselves.

Better behave, then.

Scanners came next, a whole assortment of them. Some worked from a distance, others were pushed right up to their spark, and it was a fight and a half to not try to stop the process at every turn. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t comfortable. Their instincts were screaming at them about protecting their core and lifeforce and they felt really damn naked keeping their sparks bared like that, but Shockwave undoubtedly had Megatron’s authority behind him.

And he would force them if they didn’t submit willingly.

So they tried. And succeeded, mostly, only earning themselves a couple of warnings when they jerked or flinched when they shouldn’t have.

First Aid jacked into their medical ports on Shockwave’s order and took some more readings with their frames’ built-in scanners and diagnostics systems, and rooted around in general. He seemed to know what he was doing, at least, although Sideswipe worried over the amount of data he downloaded from each of them. The pit was he going to need all of that for? Or what was Shockwave going to need it for, rather?

They didn’t ask. Shockwave didn’t seem the chatty type. He sure as pit didn’t tell what he was doing or going to do any step of the way. It would’ve been really nice if he had, but they kept their silence the same Shockwave kept his.

Sunstreaker snarled even harder when Shockwave had taken an ungodly amount of readings out of them and then… “Merge.”

They really should’ve expected this too. And had, honestly.

Didn’t make them any more happy about it.

First Aid stayed connected to their ports and that didn’t help make things feel any less awkward, nor did the fact Shockwave had all of his scanners ready to record the whole damn process, but all the same Sunstreaker rolled over to be atop Sideswipe. He only barely even made it to straddling his thighs before their spark halves already surged from their chambers, meeting between their frames and merging in midair, as per usual—the scant few times they’d had the chance to do this.

The world imploded.

It was fucking heaven. He always forgot what it felt like, and then he wondered how could he ever forget. When the physical separation between their spark halves was removed, so was… Everything. It all stopped mattering, everything their frames had ever gone through—inconsequential.

All there was was the unity and the rightness of being together in the way they were supposed to be, but weren’t allowed to be, not even just temporarily—too risky, not safe enough, always someone who could hurt.

It was that thought that made them attach to the physical world a bit better, now. Sunstreaker’s frame had entirely collapsed on Sideswipe’s, all sense removed from their physical shackles for precious moments. It left their spark mostly protected, at the very least, out of sight aside from the light that bled from the gaps between their frames.

Sunstreaker lifted himself laboriously, just enough that he could look Sideswipe in the optic—rest their forehelms together. It didn’t matter that the circumstances of this were… Less than ideal.

What mattered was doing it. Fuck everyone else when they could have this. Their spark pulsed, whole, comfortable, full, swirling into itself and blending together until there was no end to him and no beginning to Sunstreaker.

They just were.

He just was.

Shockwave still didn’t say anything, but they could feel the intrigue in First Aid’s field. Split-sparks were rare, weren’t they? Mech had probably never seen this before. Had Shockwave either? They didn’t know.

More scans, more diagnostics, more of everything, but it didn’t matter. They basked in being what they were supposed to be, and it didn’t matter. Maybe they were too compliant right then, too withdrawn, too careless, and maybe this was why they barely ever merged–

But in the moment, it was all the same as long as their spark was whole.

“Can you overload?” Shockwave asked after a while of observing them. They both shook their helms, not quite finding the will to speak—but it was a simple answer to a simple question, wasn’t?

Could they overload their spark like this?

No. Of course not, where would they have even found the energy for that from? Did the whole sparked walk around overloading all the damn time? No? Then neither would they.

First Aid logged and downloaded those thoughts, and those were some high level privileges he’d given himself in their systems.

They didn’t quite find it in themselves to care.

“Pull partway apart,” Shockwave ordered them next, and they did only because they knew nothing would come of it—that their halves wouldn’t part from that. Sunstreaker pushed himself up on his arms, but their spark remained merged, suspended in the halfway point between their chambers. Only tendrils connected it to either frame, once Sunstreaker lifted himself high enough.

Tendrils that weren’t enough life for their frames. Grey began to form at their extremities and creeped towards their core slowly. First Aid outright gasped in surprise—had they never seen that before, either?—but they weren’t dying, no matter what their frames thought. And really, what were their frames supposed to think when they could register the spark weakening? It was only their link to the spark, not the spark itself, but their bodies didn’t differentiate between those two.

Sideswipe grinned all of a sudden, full of mischief. “Watch this,” and he brought his servo between their spark and its connection to Sunstreaker’s chamber.

The tendrils were severed entirely and Sideswipe heaved his brother’s frame to the side before it could fall back over him—his brother’s frame that was, now, fully grey. Without a spark signature, or indeed, a spark.

Dead, for all intents and purposes.

First Aid’s field was full of a mix of shock, horror, and surprise, though he didn’t say anything and didn’t disconnect from them. Sideswipe giggled even as their spark sank into his chamber, larger than before and fitting in so snugly. He would’ve closed his chestplates out of reflex too, if Shockwave hadn’t chosen that moment to start poking around his core again.

This time… He was floating, a little bit, or so it felt like. Light. Right.

He didn’t really care that Shockwave repeated the whole entire process he’d already put their spark halves through, but now with their spark fully merged. So many scans and physical measurements and who knew what else.

But he was floating. Happy.

When was the last time he’d been happy?

Shockwave did step back eventually and Sideswipe very lazily turned his helm to look at him. “How do you separate?” the scientist or whatever asked, and Sideswipe focused on his frame enough to remember all of its parts.

Stupid, stupid frame that usually acted as a physical barrier between himself and himself.

Was he supposed to step back to that reality again?

He didn’t really want to.

...But some part of him reminded him it’d be best to follow the instructions they were given, and answer the questions. “Like… Oof. Like this,” Sideswipe managed to click, turning over and taking his turn to straddle his other frame. Grey frame.

It wasn’t nearly as upsetting as it should’ve been. Why would he be upset? He was just about to resurrect it. Sideswipe sat on Sunstreaker’s thighs, leaned over him, and carefully brought his arms between their frames to pull his spark from his chassis, though not so far he would’ve had the whole nearing so-called death, going grey thing happen.

Then he sank his claws into it, all of them—caged portions of it into each of his servos–

And began to pull it apart.

It put up a fight, it did every time, but with a bit of patience and care he managed to separate it into two clear portions that pulsed brightly, but were half the size they had been together. One he pushed back into his own chassis, the other he directed into Sunstreaker’s. It hesitated for a second or two before connecting to Sunstreaker frame with an audible crackle and snap, followed by a clang as Sunstreaker’s chestplates automatically closed around it without any conscious thought on his part. Sideswipe barely pulled his digits free in time.

Color returned to his brother and Sideswipe smiled a satisfied smile even as the gape between them began to yawn again, larger, more uncomfortable by the second.

Not right.

But it was how they lived. One spark in two places at once, directing two separate frames. That was all.

“Move aside, Sideswipe. Sunstreaker, bare your spark,” Shockwave ordered them both once Sunstreaker’s optics had lit up with clarity. Unease was weaving into them and quickly so, but Sideswipe still felt a bit languid when he rolled off of Sunstreaker and back onto the other berth. Sunstreaker was reluctant, but opened his chest back up—not that he even remembered closing it.

And again there was the whole hullabaloo of taking all the readings. That was getting old and tiresome fast, but Sideswipe feared they’d have to bear similar boredom several times still, before Shockwave was through with them.

They laid around all the same, trying to pass the time mostly by focusing on what First Aid was doing in their helms. Unfortunately it wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have already done though, either.

Shockwave only spoke up once he was done and set all of his instruments aside. “How do you know which half belongs to which frame?”

That was… A question. “We… Don’t?” Sideswipe ventured, but it was Sunstreaker who provided the more informative answer.

“Our spark’s one and the same no matter what. It’s the frames that call forth different aspects of it—personalities, if you want to call them that.”

Shockwave seemed to think on it for a moment, then nodded. “Close your chestplates. First Aid, show them to their quarters. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Lancer will interview you later.”

First Aid disconnected from them and handed Shockwave something, probably all the stuff he’d downloaded, before the scientist left entirely. Off to do some sciency stuff with all the sciency stuff he’d managed to pull from them, maybe? Or something.

They wanted to start splitting sparks, huh? That didn’t seem healthy. He had to wonder how many unfortunate test subjects that attempt was going to take.

...Best to not think about it too hard.

“Follow me, please,” First Aid requested once they’d both safely closed their chassis and gotten off the berths.

So they did. There were more doors and hallways, although they didn’t go far this time before First Aid stopped at a door and opened it without going in himself. He gestured for them to do so instead. They did that too.

The room wasn’t big and it was impossibly spartan, but there was a berth big enough for the both of them, a desk with a chair, and some shelving that was entirely empty.

And that was it. There was nothing else.

They glanced back at First Aid when he spoke up. “For everyone’s safety, the door locks and you won’t be able to come out.” That… Wasn’t entirely surprising, although it also wasn’t particularly welcome. But what was the other option? Let them wander around? There was no way in pit anyone was going to allow that. “I’ll have Lancer bring you some entertainment once he comes to do your interview.”

“What kind of an interview is it?” Sideswipe asked before First Aid managed to close the door. It looked like he was in a bit of a hurry, but took the time to answer anyway.

“Just a questionnaire to chart… Well, everything possible about your spark condition and how it affects you. Being as thorough as you can is the most helpful.

“Lancer should be by soon. We’ll probably see later, so…” Without a proper goodbye and a bit awkwardly, First Aid closed the door. They could hear it lock, too, as he’d promised.

And then they were alone.

The silence of the room was only broken by the sounds of their frames, and that was… Was the last time they’d had that when Megatron had separated them, taken turns leaving each of them alone in his quarters to break them?

Those times they hadn’t even had each other. This was different. They were alone in the right way, now, but that was… Weird as all pit, after spending so much time in the harem. There were always others there. Even the library wasn’t real solitude. There were sounds made by the others, their fields, energy signatures, everything their senses would constantly pick up and keep them aware of, even when they were consciously ignoring it all.

Now?

None of that.

It was just them, their one and same spark signature, the energy signatures and the functioning, lowkey whirr, hiss, rumble and whine of each of their frames, sounds changing with every motion they made, every shift of weight. But all of that was so infinitely familiar. Predictable. They knew each other inside and out—their spark, and their frames. So… It was nowhere near the same as being surrounded by the others in the harem.

They weren’t really sure what to make of it. The kind of extreme quiet they were experiencing now they’d only experienced in Megatron’s quarters before this, and if that wasn’t a lovely way to surface some memories they weren’t particularly fond of. In the streets, even during the quietest night, you could hear distant traffic, the hum and clang of the city living around you, its systems making sounds the same any frame did. It was an eternal background noise you could never escape without four walls around you.

Right now? There were four walls around them, and they were who knew how deep into the tower, and here there wasn’t the sounds of the towers’ functions. That was probably deliberate.

They were perfectly isolated in the bright room, locked in so they couldn’t have left even if they’d wanted to, and… They sort of wanted to. There was something infinitely disquieting about the space, its almost clinical emptiness and… Lifelessness.

Sideswipe sat down on the berth even as Sunstreaker frowned and crossed his arms, glaring at the tiny room at large. They couldn’t help but draw more comparisons to the harem wing. Say what you will about it, but it was alive, and not just because of its occupants. There was actual color, and lights placed so that they cast real shadows even as they lit anything that needed to be lit, and never leaving things so dark it would’ve been unwelcoming. There were the scents—of oil and repairs in Knock Out’s medbay, clean as the room was; the electric scent of the book files in the library, sharp and piquing; the mingling of energon and additives in the dining hall, perfect to rouse one’s appetite; solvent and so many scented products in the washracks…

And the entertainment room and berthroom, with the smells that permeated every other part of the wing too. Lubricant, transfluid, overloads. Interface. It was everywhere in the harem, for obvious reasons.

And despite that, he would’ve rather been there. There was something homey about the lush colors and intimate feel of the harem wing.

This? Despite the light colors and offensive brightness, he was mostly reminded of Megatron’s wing. Megatron’s wing had more furniture than this, but it still felt nearly as empty because of its color scheme and lack of any sort of decorations whatsoever, anywhere.

Being reminded of Megatron’s living space wasn’t exactly welcome, either.

Here they were though, all the same. And why?

Because Megatron controlled every aspect of their life.

Sideswipe gushed a sigh from his vents and fell onto his back on the berth. Sunstreaker finally moved to sit down next to him.

Then there was more quiet and growing discomfort. Not physical, despite the amount of prodding and poking their spark had endured, but… Mental. Emotional.

But they could probably expect to be interrupted by their interview pretty soon. It wasn’t the best chance to try to chill out. And there might be cameras, too. That wouldn’t have surprised him.

...You know, he’d never wondered if there were some in the harem wing. It didn’t feel like a space where there would’ve been some, but maybe there were anyway.

“Wonder who Lancer is,” Sideswipe mused, just to break the silence even a little bit.

Sunstreaker, ever the best conversation partner, grunted.

“Think he’s another of Shockwave’s mates? ‘Cause First Aid was, but he was still, like… Being an assistant to Shockwave or something? In all sciency stuff?” That was weird. Really weird, when all they’d known was Megatron’s harem. Megatron only wanted interfacing out of them. Entertainment.

Were things so different for Shockwave’s harem, or what was going on?

“We should ask, if we get the chance,” Sideswipe concluded. Theorizing with the very limited amount of information they had was hard as pit, and it would be nicer to get actual answers, anyway. Maybe Lancer would be willing to answer some questions, on top of making them answer questions?

Probably a lot of questions.

Weren’t they just real winners.

------------------------------------

Lancer was, indeed, another of Shockwave’s mates. He was chipper, but efficient, asking all the questions and recording all the answers, prompting them with more questions that didn’t seem to be on his list if their answers weren’t in depth enough. He charted everything from their experience of their activation to medical history and every last detail they could think of over how being split-spark had affected their life, positively or negatively. He didn’t overtly react to anything they said, either, but remained perfectly professional. Which was nice. It kept things from getting so awkward, despite all the stuff they told—right down to how being so connected made them react to all the rape and abuse they’d endured here.

Of course, they were careful to not state or even suggest they were still very much plotting how to leave the whole place, even as they were frank enough about their dislike over the treatment they’d endured.

“Thank you so much! This will help us a lot,” Lancer said with satisfaction once it looked like he’d bombed them with all the questions he was going to. Sideswipe already opened his mouth with questions of his own, but snapped it back shut when Lancer continued, “Oh! Before I forget…”

He subspaced the datapad he had been using, made the twins a bit envious of his ability to actually access his subspace, then proceeded to pull out other datapads that he set on the desk.

Quite a few datapads, in fact—a whole pile by the end of it. “I grabbed some movies, book files, music, and a few games and podcasts for you! I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but hopefully there’s enough variety that you’ll find at least something to your liking.”

Sideswipe blinked, but Sunstreaker remembered their manners. “Thank you.”

“It’s no bother—you’ll have to stay here a few days anyway. Need to pass the time somehow, right?” He turned to leave, but a noise for his attention from Sideswipe had him halting and looking back at them.

Sideswipe spoke quickly, before the opportunity passed them. “Could we ask a few questions?”

Lancer looked a little surprised, but then smiled with a small laugh. “Well, I did just get from questioning you real good. I think it’s fair to repay that. Okay, what would you like to know?”

Okay, wow, they actually got the chance and Lancer seemed very open to questions too. That was a little unexpected, but Sideswipe gathered his thoughts quickly. “Alright, so… You’re in Shockwave’s harem too, right?” he asked first, and continued after Lancer nodded a simple confirmation, “And so’s First Aid? But First Aid was assisting Shockwave when he was taking all sorts of readings and whatnot off of us. Is that… Normal? For the harems? For Shockwave’s harem?”

“Not really normal for the harems, no,” Lancer answered and sat back down on the desk’s chair. “But it’s normal for us—Master Shockwave’s harem, I mean. Most of us have the know-how to help him in his projects, and he makes use of that.”

Lancer really seemed as forward as Chromia. That was… Nice. As far as getting their questions answered went, anyway. “How do you have the know-how? Has he taught you?”

“He continuously teaches us, yeah, but only really those who already had a background in the sciences or medicine—so, again, most of us. Really only Chromia doesn’t.”

“...What does Chromia do, if not that? Why does Shockwave have him?”

“Chromia is kind of… Our Starscream. Starscream takes care of Lord Megatron’s harem, right? Chromia does that here. Enforces Master Shockwave’s rules and orders, makes sure everyone has what they need, runs around doing Master Shockwave’s bidding when the rest of us are busy.” Lancer laughed there. Sideswipe cracked a smile, just to hide his… Confusion? No, not really confusion. There wasn’t that much to be confused over Shockwave having someone who filled Starscream’s role in his own harem.

Disturbance, rather. They knew what Starscream was like, how… Thoroughly he devoted himself to Megatron.

And Chromia did the same with Shockwave? Even when the other mates didn’t necessarily want to cooperate otherwise?

Like that?

But Lancer didn’t seem bitter over it, or like he thought it was a bad thing.

“How come most of you have the kind of backgrounds Shockwave makes use of?”

“We’re not from Kaon, but we were brought here specifically because of our skills. Master Shockwave has enough rank that aside from Lords Megatron and Soundwave, he can pick anyone he wants, and… He wants those with the skills. Lord Megatron has no use for our skill sets, so I don’t know anyone from his harem who could fill our roles.”

Yeah, Megatron really had no use for that kind of stuff, did he? You didn’t need to be a scientist to learn how to suck a spike.

“Doesn’t he work with anyone science type who isn’t from his harem?”

“Oh, he does. Flatline works here full-time, as does Perceptor—and Mixmaster, Hook, and some others occasionally collaborate with him on something. But Master Shockwave finds it… More agreeable, to work with his own harem.”

“...Why?” Sideswipe asked suspiciously, although he thought he might already know the answer.

Lancer shrugged. “We belong to him, and we serve him. He ranks higher than anyone else he works with, of course, and they obey his orders too, but that’s still not the same.”

He was more equal with other free mecha, wasn’t he? Sideswipe suspected they could say no to him, rank or not.

His harem, though? Probably had no such right. Megatron’s sure didn’t, and he didn’t think Shockwave’s was that dissimilar despite his use of his mates as his assistants.

Lancer didn’t say that much, but wasn’t it sort of written between the lines, anyway?

Sideswipe did no more than nod at that.

“Was there anything else?” Lancer asked after neither of the brothers said anything for a moment. Sideswipe gave it an actual thought, but…

“Not right now, ‘least.”

“Cool. If something comes up, ask one of us, we’ll be happy to help.” With that, a smile, and a wave, Lancer took his leave.

The door locked after him. Again. Naturally. Of course.

They both sighed in the silence that was left behind, but Sideswipe plucked the topmost datapad off the pile and turned it on to see what it contained. Sunstreaker did the same with another ‘pad, and… Well. They better get good at passing the time like this, probably.

-------------------------------------------

The room had no windows, or clocks of any sort for that matter. If their chronometers hadn’t counted the day, they would’ve never known what time it was. They recharged during what would’ve been the quiet hours in the harem wing, and when no one came to interrupt them right away in the morning… Lazed around a bit.

Hopefully whoever might come to take them for more tests would at least knock or ping first, instead of just barging in. And energon. They’d prefer fuel at some point, as much as it wasn’t strictly necessary. Yet. They probably, hopefully wouldn’t be here long enough for that to matter, but if they were hanging around for a full orn, they’d definitely have the time to get a bit uncomfortable from hunger.

They didn’t worry about that too much right in the moment, though. Sideswipe had draped himself along the full length of Sunstreaker’s side, his brother’s arm around him, tracing patterns on his armor.

Sideswipe did the same to Sunstreaker, dragging his claws along seams he knew were a bit on the sensitive side, and grinning every time he was a little too good at it and made the golden twin squirm. Sunstreaker didn’t tell him to knock it off though, or hadn’t so far.

He might at some point.

But for now he was too… Thoughtful, to really bother. And Sideswipe knew those thought tracks just as well.

They merged so rarely. For obvious reasons, or… What had been obvious reasons. For Primus’ sake, they were guttermechs. They didn’t just have an apartment of their own that they could lock the door of and do what they willed. The best they could do was rent a room someone else would always have access to, too.

Where were they supposed to merge? Nowhere, that’s where.

So… They didn’t. Hadn’t. They had risked it… What, a grand total of three times in their lives, since emerging from the Well to get discarded in no time at all?

They weren’t old, but even for a short life that… Wasn’t very many merges. It wasn’t a necessity so it didn’t really matter, but pits it felt good. It was probably some sort of sucky coping mechanism to forget about the feeling after every time, because what would they have done otherwise except spend every moment of their life wishing they could do it again?

They’d done it now, and they hadn’t forgotten about it, not yet. It populated their thoughts, the… Feeling of it.

Would they get used to it if they did it more often? Seemed likely. The whole sparked walked around the way they did all the time and nothing happened to them, but to him and Sunstreaker… It was so novel. It felt so good, was so right, fixed every problem they’d ever had, or so it felt like. It was how they were supposed to be, but how they weren’t despite it all. Was it any wonder knocking all the wrongness out of their life with just one act would be such a drastic difference that it would muddle their thoughts more than a little? That they’d want to just enjoy it, forever and ever?

Like the whole sparked got to do all the time. They took it for granted, didn’t even think about how else it could be.

Well, the twins knew how else they could be. They couldn’t take it for granted, because it wasn’t their usual state of being.

What kept them from occupying only a single frame, from being just one, in one? Was it just a habit? ‘Because that’s how it’s always been’?

Or was it an… Advantage? It never felt right, but it didn’t cripple them either. They could experience life at twice the pace everyone else could, because they were in two. Wasn’t that a good thing?

And the tradeoff was just to feel wrong on such a deep, inescapable level.

That wasn’t so bad, was it? There were hardly any downsides… That they knew of. They had to admit they didn’t understand their spark very well. They took it at face value, but why did it do the things it did? Why could they be split, when trying to split a normal spark would only result in death? Ask anyone who had ever gotten stabbed in the spark. It didn’t tend to work out so well.

And when they pulled apart, why did their spark exchange its energy perfectly between its halves, neither bigger than the other when they separated? How the pit did it know to do that when there was no… Rift between them, when they were merged? It was just one whole spark with the ability to split for whatever reason, but the re-splitting was always a pretty crude process and still it always worked out.

That wasn’t even getting into their exchange of emotion and thought—or “thought”, rather. Emotion came through raw and unfiltered, but it was never words, never sounds, never perfect images that their spark was made of. Just… A mess. Shapes, textures, color, but they all came together to mean something, if you knew how to interpret it. Put it together. Translate it into something the frame could understand. Their spark was never confused by itself.

It was just the frame that didn’t always keep up with everything.

They were pretty good at that, and they could also do the most important: segregate. Synchronization came naturally to them, but what they needed to do to function was to… Split their thoughts as their spark was split: one set of thoughts for the frame that was Sideswipe, another for the one that was Sunstreaker. They needed to function separately, steer their frames separately, divide themselves, sometimes to the point they became near senseless to one another–

And that went against their very being, but they had to do it. It was a skill. It had taken practice.

They didn’t usually think about any of this, honestly. It wasn’t important, it wasn’t relevant. What mattered was that they made it work.

But after trying to describe the whole mess to Lancer in as much detail and with as little confusion as they could manage, it was hard to not consider it all—wonder if it mattered anyway. They had no idea.

All they knew was that merging was… Better than any drug in the world, and they’d tried quite a few out of curiosity.

And they weren’t on the streets anymore. They were never really alone either, aside from right now, but the other mates weren’t exactly… Threats? Were they? They had never actively tried to hurt them.

Could they even consider doing it again sometime, while they were still here? Because they’d be right back to the streets after they got out, and then they’d again be without the chances to do it.

So many thoughts. They should probably stop before their processors started steaming. Sunstreaker glanced at him at that, cocking one of his optical ridges at him and– Primus, he was just pretty. Beautiful. From helm to pede, their commissioners had done at least that right and given him all the looks in the world.

His optical ridges too. Their arch was just… Elegant, and Sideswipe knew that came without trying.

Sunstreaker’s amusement turned into an outright, huffed laugh when he stared for too long.

Frag it.

Sideswipe lifted himself, just enough that he could silence it by pressing their mouths together—no grace, just want. Sunstreaker returned the kiss with quite a bit more thought behind it, and Sideswipe happily let him take the lead, melting a bit further against that lovely frame.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, you know,” Sunstreaker muttered against his mouth. Sideswipe could feel his grin.

It was his turn to laugh, just a little. “I know.” They were quite a pair, weren’t they?

At least this much Megatron would never take from them—their self-centered love, devotion. There was no tarnishing it, even if he took everything else.

They enjoyed each other for a time, cuddling and making out, lazy and without rush. Not that they couldn’t have done this in the harem, but there was always so much going on there, and that wasn’t even going into the fact there was no real privacy to be found anywhere in the harem wing.

Chances were they’d still have the time to get hella bored here even with the entertainment they were provided, but for now they were going to enjoy it.

They did the entire morning. Only a ping at the door interrupted them when it was starting to tip into the day proper. They untangled themselves at the interruption, and were sitting side by side on the berth by the time the door opened after a polite delay.

First Aid stood on the other side, two cubes held in his servos. “Hope you slept well and have gotten the time to pass. Did Lancer– Oh, I see he did.” He was probably referring to all the datapads; at least those were what he was looking at.

“He brought us stuff, yeah,” Sideswipe confirmed with a wry grin. First Aid’s field flared with something akin to a smile. He moved into the room just enough to place the cubes on the desk before returning to the doorframe.

It looked like he was going to leave, too, but Sideswipe interrupted that process with a, “Hey.” First Aid looked at him in askance, and out of the mates they’d met he seemed the least inclined to start answering any amount of questions, so Sideswipe kept it short. “When will there be more… Tests?”

“Probably not today. Tomorrow at earliest, I think,” First Aid answered, and… That was kind of surprising? But he also explained the reason for it quickly enough. “There’s a lot of data Master Shockwave wants to comb through before he does anything else. Your spark is very unusual.”

Well. At least they were entertaining some scientist with their existence. Could be worse?

Sideswipe nodded and when they asked nothing else, First Aid bid them goodbye and left. They took the cubes they’d been brought and went to enjoy them. It wasn’t anything fancy, just basic midgrade, but that didn’t make it any less delicious.

And it looked like they wouldn’t have to worry about hunger, at least.

As First Aid had guessed, nothing happened for the rest of the day. Sunstreaker went through the datapads for things to read or listen to, Sideswipe grabbed the couple of them with games on them. They were the same games as in the harem, but he had his saves in his own systems, so it wasn’t a big thing to plug into the datapad and continue playing where he’d left off back there.

It wasn’t the most interesting day ever. The harem was… A prison. There was no getting around the fact there wasn’t really anything physical to do, aside from ‘facing. And oh boy did the other mates ‘face a lot. Sideswipe had to wonder if some of that was just to try to make up for the lack of any other exerting activities, on top of being prompted by the protocols corrupted by the infernal transmission.

He and Sunstreaker had put up with it so far because, you know, they didn’t exactly have any other option. They couldn’t just leave to go on drives or whatever. It worked in their favor that they had never had the ability to be as active as they would’ve liked. For the duration of their life, up until coming here, conserving energon had been a necessity. Technically they could have done whatever they wanted to, driven as far as they’d liked to–

But the practice was quite different.

Now they would’ve had the energy, but not the freedom. That sure got flipped around a bit.

But so there weren’t any past habits of long drives that they would’ve missed, for as many things there were that they did miss.

And some came here willingly?

Frag.

Yeah, no, he wasn’t going to get over that anytime soon, especially after what he’d seen at the dinner—though to be fair he didn’t think he’d get over any of the shit that happened here anytime soon. But there was… Something. Their first time here, their whole initiation? Had been awful in so many ways.

But it was just that one time. They’d had some shit thrown at them since then too, mildly put, but they hadn’t gotten gang raped with that level of brutality since.

And the public servants? It looked a lot like brutal gang rape was their entire existence. He didn’t know where they lived, or were stored, what their downtime was like, but slag… He couldn’t imagine there was anything to want in that life. They looked to be halfway to the scrapyard already, on the inside. If he had to make a guess, they probably wished they could’ve gone the rest of the way.

He thought he would’ve, in their place. All the things Megatron had done to them and had made others do to them… It wasn’t those levels of bad. Maybe there was an instance here or there that compared, but it wasn’t continuous. That made the difference.

Instances like Sunstreaker’s little outburst. Megatron knew how to damage a frame. Getting just beaten would’ve been one thing. Unpleasant and it would’ve hurt too, but it was so outlandish to mutilate a frame with nothing but a spike. Who else could do that but Megatron?

It was just… A more intimate sort of way to punish someone—taking something that was usually done for fun and affection, and using it as a weapon instead.

Violent.

Sunstreaker hardly even ached anymore. The physical signs of the whole incident were all but gone, even at the places where Knock Out hadn’t replaced the parts, only fixed them instead.

But on the inside? His brother was tough, but Megatron was an enemy like nothing they’d faced before. Time and time again they could not win, not even in a small way, and if they stepped out of line… They were returned to it with devastating certainty.

Would Sunstreaker throw a drink at someone again? Was it worth it?

----------------------------------------

It was near the midday of the next day that there was a ping at their door again. Sideswipe paused and saved his game and Sunstreaker set down the bookfile he’d been perusing, seconds before the door opened to reveal Lancer.

He smiled and waved. “Master Shockwave has some more tests he’d like to run. If you’d come with me.”

Of course there was nothing about were they fine with this, or if they agreed to having more tests done on them.

They weren’t and they wouldn’t have, but you know.

They placed their datapads on the desk before following Lancer out of their temporary quarters and back into the same room from before, with its berths and contraptions. “Dismissed,” Shockwave said to Lancer once they were safely deposited in the room, and so he left.

Leaving them with Shockwave and… There was another mech present too. Red, but even searching, they couldn’t see a brand on him.

He didn’t look like Kaonite though, not one bit.

“On the berth,” Shockwave ordered them and they walked a couple of steps ahead of him to do so. Whatever cart the scientist had with him had more things on it, some that they could recognize from last time.

Was this going to be as boring?

Would they get to merge again?

“Perceptor.” With just one word from Shockwave, the red mech came over, although there wasn’t the same… Haste in his motions, as Shockwave’s mates had when they hurried to follow his orders.

There was something different about him in general, although they couldn’t place it. He was nervous though. Not overtly so, but it was still in his field.

“Yes, hello, we haven’t met yet. I’m Perceptor, and I’ll be assisting Shockw–”

“Lay down,” Shockwave entirely interrupted his colleague—were they colleagues?—to order him and Sunstreaker around instead. But at least this much had already happened, so despite their very extant reservations, they laid down.

“Bare your sparks,” was the next thing, and they did that too, reluctant or not. Shockwave pushed and pulled some of the things hanging from the ceiling around, bringing some lower. Sideswipe would’ve guessed it was a scanner of some sort that he positioned around Sunstreaker’s spark, his brother watching the process with so much distrust.

But if they didn’t cooperate, they’d be made to cooperate anyway, so. He’d still rather go unrestrained.

Perceptor did what First Aid had done and jacked into their medical ports to bring up their internal scans and spark readings. One educated guess, they were going to do something to their spark.

And they probably wouldn’t like it.

The scanner thingy was secured directly against Sunstreaker’s chestplates before Shockwave pulled a different device down and aimed that at Sideswipe’s spark-half. It spun just that much more wildly in its casing as his concern grew. It would’ve been great if Shockwave had even told them what he was doing, but of course he couldn’t be bothered with that much.

Perceptor probably noticed that thought with the privileges he’d granted himself in their systems, because he took that role instead. “We’re going to feed some dead energy into your spark to–”

He didn’t get further than that before Shockwave cut him off with a, “Stay still.”

“What do you mean dead energy–?!” Sideswipe tried to demand in full alarm, but he couldn’t get further than that before Shockwave activated the device directly above his half of their spark. It came to life to shoot pure electricity into his spark, or at least Sideswipe thought it might’ve been electricity, it sure was something–

But that wasn’t what he could focus on.

There was just the pain.

It burned and he could scarcely even hear his own scream as his very core lit up with agony, and pain of the frame was one thing–

But this was so much more than that. It was his very being that hurt, that cut straight into his emotions, the well of his thoughts, his life–

His back arched off the berth, and bringing his spark closer to the device didn’t help at all, but he didn’t know what to do, couldn’t do anything with the–

And then it ended.

Sort of.

Sideswipe collapsed back onto the berth when their respective devices powered down and were moved away from them both, sobbing—from relief, and from pain, because his spark wouldn’t stop hurting and feeling like it was going to tear itself into so many pieces until there’d be nothing but shreds left–

He was barely aware Sunstreaker was gasping, feeling all the same he was, that it tore at the both of them, their one–

“Merge.”

They focused enough to make sense of Shockwave. There was no inflection to the order.

Sideswipe shook his helm, crying. Their spark felt so raw and adding more energy into the play, even if it was just his own, was the last thing he wanted to do–

“Your spark is destabilizing. You’re dying. Merge,” Shockwave said, sounding absolutely uncaring as he stared at one of the screens that might’ve had their spark readings or something, Sideswipe didn’t know.

Perceptor’s field had flushed with very real anxiety and concern where Shockwave had none to give, but at least the unfeeling scientist’s words were enough to provide some… Motivation. Sideswipe looked to the side but Sunstreaker was staring resolutely at the lights above, trying to survive the agony in their lifeforce—and presumably doomed to fail at that, if they didn’t merge.

So this was what dying felt like, huh? He could’ve gone without the experience.

But he didn’t want to die. There were still things to live for, and this was an out he didn’t want to take.

He rolled onto his front and heaved himself up, gritting his denta the whole way. It wasn’t his frame that hurt, his frame functioned perfectly, but the pain still threatened to cripple him. His spark throbbed so unevenly, its pulses and rotation stuttering in a way he had never experienced before. It distracted him from the physical world something fierce–

But they were probably on a bit of a timer. He had no idea how long it’d take for a spark to destabilize completely, and how long it would take their spark.

Would merging even fix it, or was Shockwave just grasping at straws? Who the fuck knew. It was sort of their only shot though, wasn’t it?

Sunstreaker reached an arm to help pull him over and Sideswipe barely waited until their chests were even half aligned before he collapsed over his twin. Their halves surged to meet each other before he was even all the way down, wove together, became one, seamless, and…

The pain receded.

They were both shaking, their vents barely functioning, but the tearing stopped. Sideswipe let his forehelm fall against Sunstreaker’s shoulder, feeling the ache in their spark even as things… Evened out. Calmed down.

And they, presumably, stopped dying so actively.

“The pit,” Sideswipe gasped, “was that?” He lifted his helm enough to glare at both Perceptor and Shockwave, as much as he expected Shockwave wouldn’t give a damn.

Perceptor looked apologetic, at least. “The energy approximates a spark merge without the risk of actually bonding two sparks and tests your spark’s response to it. Your reaction was entirely unexpected, I assure you; all sparks respond a little differently, but this?”

Right. So nearly killing them wasn’t the plan. That would’ve sort of gone against Megatron’s orders anyway.

Had to wonder how much trouble Shockwave would’ve been in if they had died.

“Pull back.” Was there no end to the orders? And what was this one for?

That. Shockwave was pulling the same zappy device towards them. Was he seriously trying to kill them?

“No!” Sideswipe said instantly, like any smart person with a sense of self-preservation would’ve, and flattened himself further across Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker was growling, hard, his glare beyond vicious.

“Pull back,” Shockwave repeated, still sounding so utterly indifferent. Like he didn’t really care about any of this, about their resistance or their potential death or… Pit, anything.

“Go frag yourself,” Sideswipe snarled.

Defiance. When had that ever worked?

They were locked in a bit of a staring contest before one of the doors into the room opened to admit Lancer and another of Shockwave’s mates they hadn’t seen before. All Shockwave did was nod at the twins, and at once the mates came over—but what for? They couldn’t possibly have strength on him and Sunstreaker, being smaller, slimmer.

It turned out they didn’t need strength, just speed and deftness, and that they had in spades. “Hey–!” but true to form, no one listened to him. The nameless mate had reached and grabbed his arm before he knew it, and he didn’t have the time to even jerk away before one of his ports had gotten uncovered.

And suddenly Shockwave was there and plugged right in, and pits, his presence in his systems. Shockwave used direct overrides to access exactly what he wanted to access, no detours taken, and–

Severed Sideswipe’s motor controls.

All of them.

His frame immediately fell limp and Sunstreaker started cussing for the both of them, and that was where all of their cooperation ended.

It didn’t matter. Lancer and the other one were fast to grab each of Sunstreaker’s limbs and securely tie them to the berth, as if they’d done this plenty of times before, and once that was done… They, together, lifted Sideswipe’s strutless frame. Shockwave stepped over again and reached between them, doing what they’d done the other day—put his servo between their spark and Sideswipe’s frame, forcing it to disconnect and retreat into Sunstreaker’s chassis only.

Sideswipe’s grey frame was pushed aside, unnecessary.

Sunstreaker snarled and tested the bonds, but they looked to be designed to hold mecha far larger and stronger than him and he got exactly nowhere no matter how he struggled. Shockwave? Had no reactions to give to any of it. Neither did Lancer and the other mate. There was that focus in their fields again, like Chromia had had at the dinner, like… Pits, he didn’t know what to make of it. Were they so task-oriented? How? Why?

Perceptor though, he was different. He was alarmed.

“Get that thing away from me,” Sunstreaker growled when Shockwave unerringly brought the device towards him, clearly intent on trying the whole thing all over again. For what? Did he expect a different outcome, or did he just want to kill them? If merging had saved them, what were they supposed to do when they were already merged?

“Maybe we shouldn’t–” Perceptor tried to say, hovering over them, but once again, he didn’t get to finish.

“Record,” was all Shockwave said, staring directly at Perceptor.

“This isn’t–” Perceptor tried again.

Again Shockwave interrupted him. “Greenlight.”

The other mate, apparently named Greenlight, immediately stepped up, shooed Perceptor away and replaced Perceptor’s jack in Sunstreaker’s medical port with his own. Once he made sure everything relevant was in his reach and available, he nodded at Shockwave.

Impassive, Shockwave brought the device and a scanner to his spark no matter Sunstreaker’s vitriol, and… Activated it all over again.

Sunstreaker grunted when the energy again shot against their spark, and though he feared the worst… That didn’t come to pass. Oh, it wasn’t comfortable and his spark rebelled against the lifeless energy even as it couldn’t escape it–

But there wasn’t the agony. Just discomfort.

Nothing more.

And although Perceptor hadn’t seemed to entirely approve of the whole thing, he now breathed, “Fascinating,” earning a vicious glare from Sunstreaker. It entirely remained that he wasn’t agreeing to any of this, and even when it had looked like Perceptor might care about details like that, clearly his scientific curiosity was winning over.

It was Sunstreaker’s turn to strongly disapprove.

“Yeah, great, you didn’t nearly kill us this time,” he growled, venting a sigh of relief when Shockwave turned the zapper off and pushed it aside.

“Indeed!” Perceptor said, apparently completely missing Sunstreaker’s sarcasm as he hurried over to one of the screens with some readings on it. Sunstreaker couldn’t understand them, but Perceptor sure looked excited. “Your spark’s negative reaction to dead energy when split… Has that ever been recorded before, Shockwave, do you know? But to get a near opposite reaction when you’re merged! I hypothesize that trying to merge with another spark separately would kill you, although we need to go over these readings to find out the reason why—but equally it looks like your spark’s reaction falls into perfectly normal ranges when merged–”

He prattled on further but Sunstreaker tuned that out, judging Shockwave to be a greater concern when the scientist brought more measuring devices of various sorts to their spark and took whatever readings. Many, many more readings. Lancer and Greenlight lingered too, following Shockwave’s instructions to the letter without hesitation even as Perceptor seemed fully distracted by the screens—and was he still ranting? Primus.

The rest had already happened, but when Shockwave took something small, small enough to fit into his spark chamber, and tried to insert it there, Sunstreaker rebelled.

Or tried to, very unsuccessfully seeing he was tied down and whatnot. “The pit is that?” he demanded, but no amount of tugging or squirming would discourage Shockwave.

At least he got an answer out of the mech, for once. “A monitor.”

Just not a very useful answer. Monitor for what?

When he asked this time, no one responded. The little thing was installed into his spark chamber, and then the same was done to Sideswipe’s frame on top having his motor controls reestablished.

Once that was done, they untied him. “Split,” Shockwave ordered him.

Sunstreaker snarled. “No.” Mostly for the sake of it, honestly; he wouldn’t have had anything against having his second frame functional right then.

“Split, or you will be split,” Shockwave said. An ultimatum, huh? So which would be rather have, doing the whole damn thing himself when he at least had some experience at it no matter how inelegant they made it–

Or have someone who had most likely never successfully split a spark do it for him?

Did he really want to have his spark prodded at even more?

No, he’d rather avoid what he could. Sunstreaker glared, but nevertheless moved over to Sideswipe, straddling his brother’s frame and pulling their spark apart until he had one half to push into the grey frame, the other to keep to himself.

Sideswipe’s chestplates slammed shut before life properly returned to him, and when he onlined good and proper, it was with a growl. Not like he had forgotten what had happened.

Shockwave didn’t seem to care at all. “Lancer, return them to their quarters,” was all he said before he accepted their data from Greenlight and left.

Sideswipe wiped at the tear stains on his cheeks before they both got off the berth and, without a fight, followed Lancer. That… Hadn’t been so mighty pleasant. They’d gotten to merge, sure, but pits, they hadn’t wanted it to be because of something like that.

At least it sort of confirmed their theory that they could function pretty normally even when merged. They hadn’t gotten distracted this time like they had before, though hopefully it wouldn’t need to be just situations that registered as highly dangerous that would manage that.

And they still had however many days of this?

Pits.

“What’s the monitors for?” Sideswipe asked once they were at their door.

“Your spark had a pretty extreme reaction to the fake merge,” Lancer answered as he opened the door and they went inside. “It seems to be fine now, but it’s better to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t destabilize again.”

Was he sulking? Sideswipe was definitely sulking, and he didn’t even feel like trying to pretend otherwise. “Yeah, Megatron would probably be real unhappy if something happened to us,” he grumbled, plopping himself down onto the berth with more force than necessary. Sunstreaker sat down next to him.

Primus forbid someone other than Megatron himself hurt them. He could rape and slag them all he wanted, but the moment someone else tried to do what he did? Lines drawn, big time.

Ugh.

“I imagine so, yeah,” Lancer agreed. “Try to unwind for now though, okay? That was pretty rough.”

With that he left and they were once again locked in their tiny ass room that was getting more claustrophobic by the hour.

They sat in silence for a minute or two before Sideswipe broke the silence with a simple, “Wanna merge?”

Sunstreaker nodded, and merge they did—just to try to wash away even some of what had happened.

----------------------------------------

The next day, again, nothing happened, Shockwave presumably busy with all the data he’d gathered from them.

But every day after that, there was something. They didn’t cooperate half the time, anymore, not when some of the things got increasingly outlandish. Sometimes they were made to merge, other times held separate, many a time Shockwave separated them without even giving them the chance to do it themselves. There were sharp objects, blunt objects, samples taken, the limits of what their spark and its ability to split could withstand truly tested to the last.

More often than not, it hurt. Nothing compared to the whole incident with dead energy, but it still hurt. It wasn’t the last time Shockwave used the zappy thing on them, either, though he never again did so separately at full force—but he did feed smaller amounts of energy into their spark even when they were split, just to test how much they could withstand before their spark started to destabilize all over again.

It never got so bad as the first time, but that wasn’t much of a comfort.

They had so many wires attached to them, too. To their chest, primarily, as Shockwave went about trying to uncover all of the secrets of their spark and recorded everything he could about everything he did. Their heads weren’t left alone either, usually one of the mates always keeping an eye on what their frames thought about what was done to their spark at any given moment.

Oh, and all the times they didn’t agree to keep their chestplates open, only for Shockwave to then jam them open. Sometimes there was a see-through pane involved too, when he wanted to sort of protect their spark from the outside world while still being able to visually observe it.

Wasn’t that just so kind of him.

None of it was pleasant and a few times they honestly feared he’d pushed too far and caused permanent damage, and… Slag, when they were left alone they spent more time merged than separate, now, trying to assure themselves they were fine, that their spark was fine despite everything Shockwave put it through. That was mostly true. Physically they didn’t think he was doing anything that they wouldn’t recover from.

But wasn’t the story always that physically they could recover from everything that was done to them here in the palace, in Kaon, but that matters were quite different as far as their damned emotions went. Sideswipe spent an increasing amount of time crying, not just from the physical pain that sometimes grew to truly uncomfortable extents, but also from the… Helplessness. As ever. If they fought, Shockwave would just have them restrained to whatever point was necessary for him to go through with everything he wanted to do to them without interruptions.

They didn’t see Perceptor again, and they had to wonder if that was because their disagreement with what was happening grew more vehement and their lack of consent ever more obvious. Perceptor had seemed like the type to care about details like that, where Shockwave definitely didn’t, and where his mates followed his lead.

They were just as powerless here as they ever were with Megatron. They couldn’t even say they were very surprised by that, but it still… Hurt.

And no one gave a damn.

-----------------------------------------------------------

It was exactly a full orn later that Shockwave finished with another round of doing whatever to their damn spark. Sideswipe was panting hard, his vents wheezing as he tried to center himself after having his spark toyed with—what was it this time, testing how their spark reacted to separation from the frame. After having his half pulled out of chest who knew how many times, every time to the point his frame greyed out… Yeah, excuse him if he wasn’t feeling the greatest.

Sunstreaker wasn’t much better off. He wasn’t even growling anymore, his optics tightly closed where Sideswipe was instead staring at the bright lights, letting them blind him.

Lancer moved to remove their restraints—that by now had severely worn off their paint from the affected areas—first the ones holding their spark chambers and chestplates open. The moment those were gone both of their chassis slammed back shut so fast it hurt.

But it was still an intense relief, despite the sting.

Neither of them got up right away after their limbs were freed, still reeling a little too badly. However, then Chromia entered the room, and what Shockwave said next was right the thing to bring some more life to them. “Return them to Lord Megatron’s harem.”

They both stilled from disbelief, just for a time before Sideswipe shot to sitting and Sunstreaker leveraged himself onto his elbows. They stared at Shockwave first, as much as the scientist’s back was turned to them, before their attention moved to Chromia.

“Yes, master,” the blue mech said with a small bow, then turned their way and requested their compliance.

Normally that would’ve been about the point where they told everyone to go frag themselves, but… Was it over? Was this over? Could they go back to the relative safety of the harem and not have to worry about Shockwave anymore?

Pits, they wanted to. They’d wanted to for quite a while now, and with unparalleled eagerness they both jumped off the berths and followed Chromia out of the room—a little unsteadily at first, but they regained their bearings little by little as they went through the corridors and doors, past even more doors, until they’d left Shockwave’s… Area of the palace entirely. Or what they assumed was the portion of the palace that belonged to Shockwave exclusively.

Things were silent for a time, but once they were closing in on the elevators and their relief increased with every step away from Shockwave they took, Sideswipe’s curiosity got the better of him. “What’s Perceptor’s deal?”

Chromia glanced at him, but answered as readily as he had before. “I assume you mean he doesn’t look too Kaonite? He isn’t. He was brought in because of his scientific proficiency, though I’m not privy to what about him exactly caught the Lords’ attention.”

‘Brought in’? “Did he come… Willingly?” Sideswipe asked carefully.

Chromia smiled at him. “With how protected we keep our city, not many outsiders understand the honor coming to Kaon is. They do with time, though.”

So… No, Perceptor most likely hadn’t come willingly. They had to wonder how close to ‘understanding what an honor it is’ Perceptor was. Shockwave didn’t exactly seem to treat him with a lot of respect, but just as much it hadn’t looked like Perceptor was actively unhappy with being there. He’d looked downright excited at places.

Had to wonder how long he’d been in Kaon and how he had acted when first arriving.

Sideswipe would’ve asked more about it if the elevator doors hadn’t opened to reveal it already had an occupant.

“Lord Onslaught,” Chromia bowed immediately, before he stepped into the elevator anyway, no hesitation.

The twins sure hesitated before Sunstreaker steeled their spark and stepped inside too, Sideswipe following a step behind him.

Then the doors closed and the elevator continued up, with them stuck in the relatively small space with the tank—whose amusement filled the elevator. It was probably their unease that he found entertaining.

“Have you recovered yet, Sunstreaker?” Onslaught asked without much fanfare. Of course, there was no real concern about him. He was just continuing what he’d done at the dinner.

Except this time Sunstreaker didn’t have anything to throw at him.

Likely for the best, honestly.

Instead of attacking Onslaught with objects or liquids, Sunstreaker contented himself with just one hateful glare before he turned away to ignore him, intent on showing as much disrespect as he possibly could. If Motormaster’s case was anything to go by, Onslaught himself wouldn’t be able to do anything about him anyway.

Onslaught chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. Knock Out is quite good at what he does.”

Then, with a glance at their frames, their scuffed portions in particular, “I hear Shockwave got his hands on you, too.”

They stayed silent. He continued, “Spark splitting—now there is a useful ability. Imagine the applications. Doubling the amount of soldiers while granting the pairs a connection that surpasses that of bonded pairs, even bonded twins. Am I wrong? If Shockwave succeeds… My, you would have truly served Kaon, no doubt even earning yourselves a mention in the history books.

“Think of it. Thanks to you, no one could combat Kaon’s elite army. Unified Cybertron and its Prime could never threaten us again.”

Threaten them? When was the last time that had even happened? After Zeta’s failed conquest, how many times had Free Cybertron actually tried to take Kaon?

Obviously they’d failed even if they’d tried, but they honestly didn’t know if there had been smaller wars since the Unification.

And still… Even speaking of such an advantage, Onslaught didn’t word things as if Kaon would have wanted to go on warpath against the rest of Cybertron. Were they really, honestly that content to just be left alone, or was Onslaught leaving things out?

“I really couldn’t care less about whatever benefits Kaon,” Sunstreaker couldn’t keep himself from growling despite his earlier intent to just ignore the damn mech, even as he still stubbornly didn’t look at Onslaught—whose field burst with amusement, while Chromia’s edged with… Disapproval?

Well, frag Chromia too.

“You should. You are Kaonite now, yourself,” Onslaught disagreed.

This time Sunstreaker glared as well as snarled at him. “Never.”

Onslaught chuckled again, although the sound was cut off when Sideswipe blurted a question before he could stop himself. “Do you uh, have a harem?” Change of topic, anyone?

“I do indeed,” the tank confirmed easily, apparently not taking offense from that either. “One that I share with my team.”

Team? “...How big is your team?”

“There’s five of us.”

Five mecha sharing one harem? He could only hope they had enough mates that… No one got overworked.

Oh, Primus.

Sideswipe swallowed, but still asked further. “Are you the leader?”

“Of my team, yes.”

He had to wonder how high Onslaught ranked overall, though it was probably… Pretty high, all things considered.

“Cool,” Sideswipe said lamely and things lapsed back into silence until the elevator came to a stop—one floor below their final destination.

Onslaught stepped out to a bow from Chromia. “Stay safe,” he drawled in parting before he set down the hall to destinations unknown. The elevator doors closed, they traveled up one more floor, and then they were back to the level of Megatron’s wing and his harem.

Chromia led them out and through the relatively short walk to the harem wing’s doors. Soundwave was standing outside, by all appearances waiting for them.

“Lord Soundwave.” Chromia bowed at him too.

“Dismissed,” was all Soundwave acknowledged that with as if he was a Shockwave copy or something, and Chromia bowed again before giving them a smile and then going right back the way they came.

Leaving them alone with Shockwave. Oh, and the two guards standing at the doors but decidedly not opening them, but the guards barely counted.

They didn’t need to wait for long for what Soundwave was here for. “Experiments went well?”

And… That was what he wanted to know? Sideswipe huffed. “I guess, aside from him nearly killing us. But we didn’t die all the way, so yaaaay.” No one would probably care that it all had sucked in so many other ways too.

Soundwave’s visor flashed, and that was about the most reaction they’d ever seen out of the mech. “Permanent damage?”

“Not as far as we know, no?”

“Why do you care?” Sunstreaker growled, glaring all proper where Sideswipe was mostly just miffed.

“Megatron concerned,” came Soundwave’s answer.

And that… Was a bit concerning in its own right. “...Were there that good chances Shockwave would’ve gone too far?” Sideswipe asked carefully.

The fact Soundwave didn’t say anything was probably answer enough.

So. Megatron had entirely and knowingly risked their life, just for the sake of knowledge. Which… Honestly, wasn’t surprising. They hadn’t expected they meant that much to the tyrant to begin with, and if the whole split-spark deal was as useful as everyone made it out to be, what kind of a tradeoff was it to possibly lose a couple of mates and gain an entire army? Megatron would’ve been dumb as hell to not take that risk, even if he’d have preferred them alive.

Sideswipe’s shoulders slumped. It made sense, but it still wasn’t a nice feeling that their life was valued to be that… Insignificant. Not worthless, really, because if Shockwave succeeded then it would’ve been worth it for the powers that be. A loss for the twins, but not really anyone else.

And who cared about the twins?

...He just wanted to be out of here. No one had given a damn about his life on the streets either, but at least there he’d been in charge of it.

Here no one gave a damn and he was completely at the mercy of another.

“Can we go?” Sideswipe asked, voice quiet as he glanced longingly at the harem’s closed doors. He didn’t see Soundwave’s nod, but Sunstreaker did–

And then the guards opened the doors.

They didn’t hurry in, but it was a close thing.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #sunstreaker #sideswipe #shockwave #chromia #lancer #greenlight #perceptor #first aid #fic #2021 #harem au

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fmdjoosungarchive · 3 years ago

Text

restructuring task 1

+5 tracker points

1. assuming your muse has changed in some way, be it internally or as a result of a change of the external factors around them, how is your muse different? these can be as small as an opinion on a song they hadn’t released previously or as big as a major change in their background.

wc: 365

idk if i’ve said this on dash yet, but i’m treating new famed more or less like an au. in sung’s au, the defining change is that he was let go from gold star when he had his injury as a trainee. it was always my headcanon that they truly were close to cutting him loose anyway, so this is just the other side of that. he had his injury, got plastic surgery to try to appease them into keeping him, and they still let him go. when he went home his parents said alright u tried that now join the fam business n sung freaked bc he realized he doesnt want that for himself so he went to do smth he also hated, and joined the military. while there he still worked on his dance and vocals whenever he had a moment to do so, so that when he was discharged and started auditioning again, he wasn’t so rusty

he is a year younger in this world, just bc of quantum’s age range, not for any other reason. makes him a little less of a cradle robber in his relationship lol which, another change is that daisuke wouldn’t have been his first kiss, just first everything else

quantum is very different from old element and new element, but it’s very in line with what i liked about quicksilver (& has models from that) and he’s a leader! this is an idea ive toyed with a lot over the last three years tbh. at first i didn’t think sung suited a leader position, but he came to show me he’s just a different kind of leader. i liken him to jinki often in this regard. rather than lassoing members in, he supports them being however they are, and takes an intimate/emotional path to gaining their trust and leading them. and while he wasn’t suited for the full business life, what he learned from his father’s teachings helps him in dealing with the company as the group’s representative there (& he loves a good powerpoint presentation)

other timeline stuff for big events in his life are likely to shift but i’m not sure on specifics yet

2. what does your muse think of their company and their group?

wc: 260

as the child of a businessman, he’s never under the illusion that as a company entity, their first priority is their wellbeing. he knows that they are products, and that they’re treated as such. it’s a bit heavier with dimensions than gold star, since gold star makes a more active effort to pretend they care. however, once having accepted that, sung thinks himself and dimensions work well together. he does feel that for a company, they allow himself and his members to be a part of the creative process, as says their motto. he feels much more encouraged to write songs and choreograph under dimensions than he did under gold star, where it felt like he was constantly on his knees begging for the company to take him seriously

as for quantum, sung really loves what they’re about. he’s not a big fan of all (or most) of their songs, though he’s more loving towards a song written by another member even if it’s the same sound he dislikes, but he absolutely loves being focused on performance and concepts. his creative mind works very much on the basis of story and emotion that comes with it, and he feels like quantum’s concepts sometimes to often lean into his tastes. he’s always been a dancer first and foremost (god am i so glad to have his main dancer title back i MISSED u) so focusing on performance is v much up his alley, and his preferred style of dance is through storytelling. he feels the heart of dance is in that

3. is your muse on their first contract or their second? if they’ve renewed, what were their feelings around that at the time and what were their hopes for their second contract? if they haven’t renewed, what are their current thoughts on the end of their eventual first contract?

wc: 281

quantum’s on their first contract still, up for renewal in 2024. at the current moment, he would like to re-sign. however, unlike my others, his re-signing depends more heavily on the other members. if they were unhappy and wanted to leave, sung would want to follow suit, not because he can’t make his own decisions, but because if the reason the members want to leave is because of the company, not quantum, he’d want to try to help quantum continue to live. if that means all of the members leaving in order to rebrand under another company, so be it. he’d like to avoid lineup changes however he can, and ideally would like to be an idol for as long as possible

he himself feels alright about his treatment. he feels creatively stimulated, and appreciated for talents further than his face. if he were to try to negotiate different terms at their contract renewal, part of it would likely be wanting to give members a higher share of profits, especially on releases they’re creatively involved in. sung personally has no use for excessive money, but not all of his members have his background, and he feels more than just the money, it’s what’s fair. he’d also prefer to allow for more creative freedom. as a 7/8 year group by then, he’d think they should be allowed to take the reigns more heavily. and on his personal side of things, he would want dimensions to be more mindful of his schedule. sung enjoys working, but he’s only one person, who doesn’t want to be overworked. these are all just his current thoughts, though, and will probably change before contract renewal comes up

4. what are your muse’s goals and motivations?

wc: 294

his motivations to be ‘successful’ and/or achieve his goals are his family, namely being someone his nephew and niece can be proud of, and someone his parents can feel was worth letting go of. he feels closer to the latter than he did in old famed. his members motivate him to be a good leader, his desire to grow as a creator motivates him to write and choreograph

specific goals could be bigger like his desire for more public recognition. while quantum has a lot more recognition both in korea and abroad than element or quicksilver, sung wants the best for his group. he’d be happy if they stayed where they are with their loyal fandom, but he still aims for more

sung also wants to get better at standing up for himself. he’s best at standing up for others, because he can slap on a bit of bravado in order to help them out, but when it comes to himself, especially with his parents, he’s pretty awful at it

he’d also like to create more for quantum, and others. i/he have a goal for him to write a whole album for someone, so if anyone reads this far and could want sung writing for their muse, hit me up!

he’d like to get married and have children one day. that’s always been a dream of his, and while he knows his career doesn’t allow for that soon, it’s still on his docket

he wants to spend more time with his family, especially his nephew and niece. they’re so new to the world and learning everything, and sung wants to be a part of that. he doesnt want his part in their early lives to be ‘i don’t really remember seeing him back then’

5. what is one conflict, internal or external, that your muse is currently dealing with, has recently dealt with, or will need to deal with in the future?

wc: 291

at some point, this bitch is gonna have to admit he’s a homiesexual. in his previous version, it was a lot easier for him to ‘i pretend i do not see it’ when it came to that. sung’s very ignorant when it comes to the queer community in korea, so he’s not even really aware of terms beyond gay, maybe trans. but, terms aside, he always thought he was someone who liked women, and daisuke and a couple of others were just outliers. they were the Special ones outside of his jurisdiction that were just too good for him to not notice. aka he believed he was bi. and now, he still does, but i have less faith he’ll be able to hold that up until he dies like i did before, because he’s actually dated at least one woman before in this world. considering the plot has yet to be picked up, i don’t know the specifics, but i do think it’s harder to run away from when the way he treated a relationship with a woman and a relationship with a man were lightyears away from one another. it’s still possible for him to run away from the truth of the situation, but it’s also very possible that one day, his thoughts on it will shake, and everything will click into place (messily,, probably the messiest clicking ever) it would be a difficult thing for him to come to terms with, though i think it’s better for him in the longterm to truly know who he is, and why he acts the way he does, why he feels the way he does about women vs men. it’s also nice just to not live a lie, even if only privately

6. if your muse has established career claims, what are their thoughts on their career so far? if they do not, how do they feel about not having individual activities yet? what would they like to do in the future, if anything? if they don’t have ambitions for individual activities, explain why.

wc: 523

sung has a pretty filled history of individual activities. most are points claims with a focus on modelling, his radio, and music, though he’s dipped into pretty much ever facet of idoldom, some with more success than others. his ecp expenditures flesh that out a little more, and add a bit more realism, and/or make sense of the group changes. he had a one year modelling contract with the north face, and while official claims aren’t possible, i was inspired by a couple of things rowoon did with them. there was more of a push on an eco-friendly side of things, and there was a bit of dancing. playing into his group position with dancing i feel is fitting, but the eco friendly part i also feel could round out his image more as a good, kind boy who also can be sexy, whereas before, his earlier modelling claims focused a lot more on the sexy aspect, because it fit element and his trajectory there better. here, it makes him more dual sided from the beginning. north face is also just a nice, strong brand that i think is fitting for a pretty boi. i set it a bit after a year out from debut because i feel like that’s the most realistic, especially for a group like quantum that grew audience with each comeback

part of that first year being focusing only on the group ties into his creative claims as well! his first creative claim was with the bside love, lalala on the eternity ep. the nicest part of creative claims being unattached to positions is that all of sung’s claims are the songs in the discography most Him. so love lalala is very jazzy and smooth, and would have served as his first introduction to songwriting, as well as what made him interested in songwriting. then he was a choreographer on error, which is heavily story based, and about the members being a unit, and making beautiful pictures together. i hope to snag intro long journey and outro long journey from the beginning and end of the ateez sector, because they’re beautiful compositions that fit sung’s style, but also having him on both makes him feel like he’s a part of the concept’s creation in an intimate way, which fits with dms. then there’s aurora, which sung partially composed and partially choreographed. the choreography has contemporary flair to it, and the song is a flowing sound that matches that. then there’s partial production on sunrise, which i just love the robotic ass experimental production there, and comp for with u, which i believe ties back into sung’s rediscovering his love of piano. choreo for valkyrie is most similar to error in it’s pretty pictures way, and also has a bit of complex footwork, especially as its point dance, which is also p sung to want to include. and finally, some comp on stand by, which is like a mix of the appeal of aurora and with u methinks? listening to all of his written songs together i feel like really makes a picture of sung’s songwriting so i love that

#famedrstask1 #and the last q was me trying to keep it brief....... lol

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thechildoflightning · 5 years ago

Text

Forecast

Title: Forecast

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Remile

Word Count: 3217

~~~

Summary:

An average fall morning with Remile, ft. depression fog, broke college students buying expensive coffee, teeny tiny pumpkins, emotional distress, and succulents (not in that order).

For the lovely @illogicallyinclined’s hockey au.

Warnings: Depression, Seasonal Affective Disorder

[ao3 link]

~~~

Forecast

Remy had mixed feelings about October and the approaching holidays and seasons.

On one hand- October meant Halloween which meant seasonal drinks like Pumpkin Spice. It also meant that decorations went up and he and Emile would get a bunch of those ittie bittie pumpkins to put literally everywhere in their apartment. Emile would light his candles and the apartment would smell like falling leaves, and apples, and pumpkin pie. He loved it.

On the other hand- October brought the beginnings of Remy’s seasonal affective disorder- which he had just nicknamed “The Big Sad.” Seasonal depression adding onto his regular depression was just another weight on his back, until it became an almost struggle to just be at a decent mood level. He hated it

This year had hit him hard.

He wasn’t even sure why.

So here he was, lying on the bed he shared with Emile, blinking up at the ceiling and trying to convince himself to just… get up.

He could. He knew he could.

It was always the mornings too. The mornings were a bit harder than everything else because now he had the whole day looming ahead of him and it just seemed so long and forbidding.

Over the years, Remy had counteracted this with a routine. If mornings were always going to be hard for him, might as well give him something to get up for, right? So he had collected succulents over the past few years, slowly decorating the apartment. He’d check them all every morning, fingers gliding over their leaves carefully to take note of growth, decay, light damage, shade damage, soil dryness, and much more.

Had he really expected to learn this much about succulents? No. But he had. And he loved it.

Most importantly, it gave him a reason to get up.

He would then make himself breakfast, and Emile some too if he was around, before heading to classes, work, practice, or whatever he had that day.

The routine kept him moving, kept him active, kept him from not sitting in bed all day long.

These days, it generally wasn’t even a struggle. But he woke up on the third day of October with a weight in his bones and the faint smell of ginger and cinnamon in the air.

His alarm had gone off twice now. The second one was his safety. His “okay, you’re having a rough day, here’s a few extra minutes, but then you need to get up alarm.”

He hadn’t gotten up.

Nope. Instead, he was blinking lazily up at the ceiling, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes and a heavy weight settled across his chest. Fuck depression. Fuck SAD.

This was, of course, when the door opened.

“Remy!” his roommate? friend? boyfriend? partner’s voice cheered as he entered the apartment, “Guess what! The cafeteria put up little pumpkins today and I remembered we hadn’t gone out and gotten any yet and we don’t have weights or Zumba today, and you don’t work until later so we totally have time to-”

Emile cut himself off as he realized that the kitchen area (that was more than a kitchenette but less than an actual kitchen) did not actually contain the person he was attempting to rant to.

Remy would give him to the count of three.

Sure enough, right as Remy ticked the final number off in his head, the door to their room (which had technically started as Remy’s but was now really both of theirs) was pushed open by Emile.

“Rem?” the voice called.

He couldn't quite make his vocal cords work, but he could shift slightly under the bed covers.

Seconds later the light in the room was flickering on and Emile’s warm gaze met Remy’s cold one.

“Oh,” Emile said, taking in the situation, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Remy replied meekly.

Emile sighed at the reply. But it wasn’t one of those sighs of frustration or annoyance. It was one of those small sighs that was just a breath of air. A reassurance. Emile always sighed like that. Remy thought it was maybe a stupid thing to love, but he loved it nonetheless.

Emile walked forward and settled on the edge of the bed, extending an arm with the palm face up.

A knot grew in Remy’s throat, even as he extended his own hand to grasp Emile’s.

“You’re usually up by now,” Emile offered.

“I know,” he said.

“What are you at?”

Remy sighed. This sigh wasn’t like Emile’s nor was it one of frustration. No, it was a sigh representative of the crushing weight of everything in the world building up and accumulating, dragging Remy down with it.

“Big SAD’s at like a six or seven? It’s, it’s not so bad. Just used to it being a lot better now. This year hit hard,” Remy confided.

Emile nodded and rubbed his thumb soothingly against the back of Remy’s hand.

“I need to get up,” Remy said.

“You usually check on your plants,” Emile said. It was his way of agreeing, his way of encouraging and supporting Remy on days like this without providing pressure. Holding his hand and grounding him, reminding him he wasn’t alone. Talking about his plants and their needs, reminding him he had a routine. That getting up seemed impossible, but it wasn’t.

Remy groaned loudly before dropping Emile’s hand and rolling to the side of the bed. He let his weight carry himself over the edge, caught him just before he fell, and stood.

He made it out of bed. That was something.

(Emile’s soft laughter at his behavior was also quite the reward).

As Emile continued to giggle, the faint outline of a smile graced Remy’s face. He rushed forward and lifted Emile up, twirling him once before setting him down and giving his hair a soft kiss. He released Emile, and then started for the day.

“Plants first,” Remy said, “Then breakfast. Sound good?”

“I can help with breakfast,” Emile offered.

“No,” Remy insisted immediately, “No I always make breakfast, it’s okay.”

Emile shrugged, but relented without further argument.

Remy moved to the windowsill that contained his plants, and began to check the first one’s leaves. Emile stood right next to him, not quite in his way, but close to it.

“Maybe I should get some plants. Maybe some flowers that can grow indoors.”

“Em, honey, you don’t have the time.”

Em pouted, sweater paws folding over his chest, but didn’t protest Remy’s claim. Remy laughed at the sight and moved to the next plant.

The fog of depression still settled in his brain, but now that he was up and talking and moving, it seemed to be lifting a bit more. It was settling back to be manageable once more, instead of overwhelming. He could deal with that.

“Remy! This one has flowers!” Emile suddenly exclaimed, from further down the windowsill, which considering the windowsills length, was just a few more inches down.

Remy pulled his attention away from the current succulent he was inspecting, and directed it towards the plant Emile had been pointing out.

Sure enough, just in between two thick green nubs, a long green stem with tiny blooming white flowers appeared. Remy smiled at the sight and Emile tucked into his side.

“It’s pretty,” Emile claimed.

“Mmhmm, yeah,” Remy agreed, hooking his head over Emile’s own, and holding him there for a minute. He wasn’t really quite tall enough to do such, so he had to stand on his tiptoes and raise his chin a bit, but it was so worth it.

They stood there together a bit, peering at the little white flowers, before moving onward with their day.

During breakfast, Emile re-explained what he had started to that morning when he had first entered the apartment.

He told Remy about how the main dining hall now had the tiny baby pumpkins up in it and how they absolutely had to get some for the apartment themselves. He was practically begging, coming up with a billion and one reasons that they should get them, as if Remy didn’t love them just as much.

After breakfast, they cleaned up, and Remy showered and dressed, before heading out to get said pumpkins. Emile had been right, it was hard to find substantial time when they were both free to do things together, and Thursday mornings happened to be one of the few times. They still didn’t have a lot of time, but it was something.

They were walking in the direction of the grocery story when Emile came to a complete halt. Remy blinked and tried to figure out what had happened.

Just a minute ago Emile had been talking about one of his classes. Remy had been trying to listen, really he had, but the fog in his brain had started to pick up again, making each step a little bit harder and listening to even mindless chatter almost impossible

It also meant that if Emile had given any warning or explanation for stopping, Remy had completely missed it.

“Emile?” he asked.

“Let’s get coffee,” he said, gesturing to the Starbucks in front of them.

Okay, that wasn’t fair. Emile knew he was going to say yes.

“Coffee’s expensive,” he mentioned. They were broke college students which was why it was completely unfair of Emile to say they were getting coffee because of course Remy was going to say yes but they couldn’t keep buying the stuff if they wanted to have food for meals and tiny pumpkins.

“Yeah, but I know you love the seasonal drinks. My treat,” was Emile’s response.

“Emile, I’m literally the one with the discount.”

And the one with the father that was more than willing to fund Remy’s coffee addiction three times over but he was trying to adult himself with minimal support from parents. Minimal support meaning yes please pay for my education and part of rent that is very appreciated but also I should probably learn how to feed and clothe myself I’ll let you know if I’m failing at that and then you can swoop in and save me.

“Okay. Then your discount, my money. Mostly my treat.”

Emile’s defense was weak at best but it didn’t really take much to convince Remy in the first place. Plus, he had that blinding smile on his face that just made Remy melt.

“Okay,” he agreed, “Okay. Coffee. But we can’t make it a habit.”

Emile shrugged, nodded, and pulled him towards the door.

“We won’t,” he promised, “Just today. Special occasion.”

Remy grinned lightly. Emile was always saying stuff like that, calling mundane things special or important. Remy pretended to hate it, but somehow, whenever Emile did it, it really did make whatever event just a little bit magical.

“And what, pray tell, is so special,” he drawled, dropping his arm onto Emile’s shoulder.

Emile shrugged and moved forward to get in line, Remy trailing afterwards, leaning his weight against him just to piss him off. (It didn’t seem to be working as Emile just sorta snuggled into his side and, great, now he was blushing).

“It’s special because…” Emile trailed, before his eyes lit up like gems, “Because you got out of bed this morning!”

A lump grew in Remy’s throat and he had the urge to take his arm off of Emile’s shoulder. The blush that had spread across his cheeks faded.

“I did,” he said, aiming for casual, “Y’know, it’s pretty simple. You just yank off the covers and hop out. Or fall off in this morning's case.”

Emile gave him a look.

“Yeah. It is simple. Doesn’t mean it's easy,” Emile said, with that wisdom he seemed to always carry and spew out. Damn emotional intelligence.

Remy did drop his arm this time, pulling it away from Emile.

Emile frowned and opened his mouth, but didn’t get the opportunity to say anything more as they made it to the front of the line.

Remy moved forward quickly and ordered for himself. When he was done, he went to order for Emile like he always did, but stopped when he realized that Emile hadn’t actually told him what he wanted this time.

See, Remy always ordered for Emile. Emile’s anxiety made it harder for him to talk to strangers, especially when it involved ordering or asking for something. It was certainly something Emile was capable of doing, and something he sometimes insisted on doing just so that he knew he still could, but it was also something he generally preferred not to do. Remy had no such issues and so Emile would tell him what he wanted and Remy would order for them both.

But Emile hadn't gotten the chance to tell him what he wanted. Remy could guess, but he hated to do that when Emile was right here and could choose what he wanted himself. He hated to assume, even if he was usually pretty spot on. Knowing Emile for such a long time made it pretty easy at this point.

The worker was looking at them now, as Remy’s pause went on for a touch too long.

“Emile?” Remy asked.

“Oh, uh,” the other boy stuttered, before rattling his own order off.

They didn’t really speak until they had left the shop and continued on their way to the grocery store.

“Earlier,” Emile started, “I know you can get out of bed. I wasn’t trying to- I dunno- mock you or something. I just know that it can be hard for you- that it was hard this morning. I-” he shrugged, “I’m not proud of you because that’s just-” he wrinkled his nose up, “That’s not something for me to be proud of, but you… You should be proud of yourself.”

Remy sighed and reached out to clutch Emile’s hand.

“I know,” he agreed, “It’s just that…” he sighed, and the fog in his brain continued to swirl around, “Thank you,” he said instead and worked on trying to maybe take Emile’s words to heart. The swirling didn’t seem to like it, but it could fuck off because he was going to buy little mini pumpkins with his- his Emile and it was going to be great.

Emile squeezed his hand.

“Pumpkins?” Remy offered, and Emile just smiled and nodded in return.

They didn’t have the time to decorate their apartment with all the little pumpkins they bought because they were starting to run late for morning skate. So they left the clump on the small table in the main room before getting ready and heading towards practice.

As they did so, a little foreign weight dropped in Remy’s stomach. It wasn’t like the fog. It was more like dread. It was starting to become a familiar feeling whenever practice and games approached. Remy absolutely hated it. Plus, morning skate wasn’t even really practice, it was just to get them moving so why the hell did Remy feel this way?

He enjoyed hockey. He did. He really really did.

(Just maybe not lately).

But he ignored the feeling, as well as the concerned look from Emile and headed out the door. They had morning skate to attend.

It wasn’t until late evening that they were both home at the same time.

The moment Remy walked through the doors he wrestled Emile away from his studying because come on Em, you can take ten minutes to decorate the apartment. Emile relented, standing to give a soft kiss on Remy’s jaw, and moved towards the pumpkins from earlier. Remy absolutely did not blush whatsoever and followed.

“Remy,” Emile commented once they were finishing up, “Are you- Are you doing alright lately?”

The fog buzzed louder.

Remy let out a weak chuckle.

“I’m always doing alright,” he said.

Emile just gave him a look.

“No really,” Remy insisted, even as a lump formed in his throat, “I’m- I mean. I’m okay. Uh- this morning was hard. Today wasn’t- wasn’t the best. I can tell this year isn’t going to be the best. But yeah, yeah Em I’m okay. I promise.”

Emile’s worry dropped a bit but didn’t fade completely.

“Okay,” he said, “I- You’ve just seemed more stressed lately. Uh- with Logan-” Emile swallowed and Remy squeezed his eyes tight for a second, “With Logan… out. I mean, it’s a lot more on you.”

“I’ve been Starter before,” Remy said gently.

“Yeah. I know.”

Because Remy had been Starter before. But not- not like this. Never like this before. And they both knew it.

“It is more,” Remy admitted, “But it’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” Emile said, and let it rest.

What Remy didn’t say was that it wasn’t the extra games, extra playtime that was getting to him.

It was the team’s faces.

It was how they went into games expecting to lose and Roman and Patton couldn’t agree on a single thing and Remus was getting reckless again and even Deceit was joining him and Virgil just seemed off and the fans hated that Remy was taking Logan’s place because it was Logan’s place and sure Remy was good but he wasn’t Logan good and they all knew it and it wasn’t even a bad thing but it did mean that even playing his best Remy knew he was letting his team down, letting Logan down, letting himself down.

But it wasn’t the playtime.

Oh no, it was so much more than just the playtime.

The fog expanded, pushing down and back on Remy’s brain, encoating him in a layer of discontentment and hopelessness and misery.

Remy sighed. He set the last pumpkin down.

“I think I’m gonna head to bed,” he said.

Emile nodded. He usually checked the clock when Remy announced he was retiring for the night, making sure that it hadn’t gotten too late yet. But he didn’t bother this time. They both knew it was still much too early for either of them to be sleeping.

“Okay,” Emile said, and smiled, but it didn't quite stretch across his face like it usually did, “I have work to do still, but I’ll join you in awhile.”

“Okay,” Remy agreed.

And they both stood there staring at each other.

Then, suddenly, Emile lurched forward and grasped Remy tightly, clutching the taller boy in a tight hug. Startled, but not about to deny the hug, Remy gripped back, just as tight.

He didn’t start to cry, but it was close.

“Love you,” Emile said.

“Love you too,” Remy responded, voice muffled from where his head was buried in Emile’s neck and trying not to cry.

With that, he headed off to bed.

Later, Emile would slip in next to him, acting in a rare occasion as the big spoon. That next morning would be a little bit easier and three mornings after that would be a little bit harder. Remy would continue to get out of bed.

Hockey would continue and Logan wouldn’t return and tensions on the team would get worse. Through all of it, Remy would be caught in the absolute worse position as Logan’s replacement.

But for now, Remy would go to bed early, fog pressing down, harsh and unforgiving, but still much softer than the upcoming storm. Because that’s really all this was, wasn’t it? The calm before the storm.

~~~

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cuddlepilefics · 4 years ago

Text

21. Sleigh Ride

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jisung

Caregiver: Stray Kids (Minho!)

Chan’s POV.:

We were currently on Christmas break so I had spent a lot of time researching fun group activities for our members to spend some quality time relaxing together. There was a small stable on the outskirts of the town, which offered sleigh rides through the snowy forest outside of town. Each carriage could fit up to six people, so we booked two carriages and planned to split into groups of four. After breakfast we would travel to the stable to make it to our appointment at twelve in the afternoon. I was really looking forward to our little trip but when we all gathered for breakfast, something was off. I couldn’t really put a finger on what was wrong but I had a weird feeling in my gut.

“Hyung, are you ok? You’re kinda spaced out”, my fellow Aussie frowned nudging me. “I’m fine just thinking”, I hummed. “Mates, I have that really weird gut feeling, like something is off but I have no idea what it is and I really can’t pinpoint it. Anyone feel the same or knows what it is?”, I let them in on what’s going on inside my head. If they could tell me I was making everything up, I’d gladly relax and continue about our plans. “What?”, Hyunjin yelled, “You feel like that too, hyung? I thought I was making everything up.” I raised my eyebrows at the dancer hoping he’d elaborate but he seemed just as confused as I was. “Now that you mention it, something is different from usual but no idea what”, Seungmin confirmed while Jeongin nodded along. “I can tell you what’s different today”, Minho stated, “It’s not noisy and actually quite pleasantly silent for once.” True, now that he mentioned it, it really was particularly quiet today. But why?

Usually there would be at least one member being extremely loud, there would be some kind of bickering or teasing but today it was peaceful. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that to have some peace once in a while but it was so out of character for this group that it almost scared me. “Lix, why are you so quiet today?”, I asked my dongsaeng who just frowned: “Hyung, it’s quiet here, I don’t want to be the only one breaking the silence.” – “Hm, Hyunjin?”, I asked, studying the dancer’s face. “Hey, why me? The only reason I’m loud is when Jisung gets on my nerves”, the dancer pointed at the younger rapper accusingly. Right, usually it’s Jisung causing some kind of trouble, his energy was contagious, it would make sense to be this quiet when he is quiet too. “Sungie? I think it’s your energy and noise lacking today. You’re usually the loudest, not worried about breaking the silence when everyone else is quiet”, I scrutinized. “Huh, sorry I’m kinda tired”, he sighed, voice low from sleep. “You’re ok though, right?”, Minho frowned. “Ugh, yeah, just not really awake yet. Think I need a coffee, I’m still sleepy”, the younger replied, scrubbing at his eyes. He wanted to get up to get himself a cup of coffee but the maknae beat him to it and soon handed the rapper his coffee.

I was really fascinated what difference it made when Jisung was not causing trouble, the other members would actually behave for once. It really was mind blowing. Finally being able to relax, I went to my room to get changed for the day ahead, as did everyone else.

Jeongin’s POV.:

When I entered Jisung’s and my shared room to get changed, I found my hyung sprawled out on his bed. “Hey, are you good, hyung?”, I had expected him to be bouncing off the walls at the thought of our day trip, even if he was tired. He mumbled incoherently into his pillow. “Hyung, what was that?”, I giggled. Sighing he sat up and cleared his throat, flinching a bit. “I said I’m tired”, he repeated, voice sounding flat. “Are you sick or something? You’re never that tired not even at the end of tour or after long flights”, I frowned, Jisung was acting so out of character and it was confusing. “Hm, don’t know. Now that you say it, I feel kinda funny but it’s mostly just my energy being completely gone. Didn’t even go to bed that late though, shouldn’t be this tired”, he mumbled, rubbing his face in order to wake himself up. “Are you up for our trip today, hyung? I could talk to Channie-hyung”, I offered. “I’m ok, Innie. Thank you though. I should just get ready”, he sighed pushing off of his bed. I nodded, getting ready myself but not before shooting our leader a text to inform him about what was going on.

Jisung took the longest to get ready, so while we waited for him in the living room, we updated the rest of the group in a quiet voice, asking everyone to keep an eye on our squirrel-friend.

Minho’s POV.:

The day continued like it had begun, eerily quiet. Arriving at the stable, we split into two groups. I was in a group with Chan, Jisung and Jeongin. There were two benches in the carriage, so Jisung sat next to me, while Chan and Jeongin sat facing us. In the other carriage, Changbin and Felix faced Hyunjin and Seungmin. Given the weather, there were many thick lamb-wool blankets piled into the carriage to keep us passengers warm. Each sleigh was pulled by two graceful horses and I couldn’t help the romantic feeling spreading inside me. After taking a few pictures with the horses, we got into the carriage and divided the blankets between the benches. The pairs sitting next to each other, layered and shared the blankets to get the most warmth out of them.

The other sleigh took off first and we followed them with a distance. As soon as we entered the forest the atmosphere got magical and romantic. The ringing of the tiny bells and the gentle movement of the sleigh had lured Jisung to sleep within minutes. He sunk into my side, resting his head on my shoulder as I chuckled. This boy, he’ll miss out on all the fun. I considered waking him up because the scenery was just so enchanting that I wanted to show him but glancing down at his chubby cheeks flushed from the cold air, I didn’t have the heart to wake him. Hearing the clicks of a camera, I looked up and was met with our maknae holding his phone up. “Yah, I want those pictures or I’ll kill you for taking them!”, I whisper-shouted, considerate of my dongsaeng asleep on me.

We heard loud squeals from the sleigh in front of us. The coachman had tapped a snow-covered branch with the whip, deliberately making the snow to fall onto the giggling boys behind him. Our sleigh’s coachman turned around to check whether we’d be up to that kind of fun too but upon seeing one of his passengers asleep, he decided against it. I really tried to take in the sights around me but most of the time I ended up adoring the boy on my shoulder. To be fair, his raspy breathing into my ear did make it difficult to focus, especially when his snores sounded more sniffly towards the end of our ride.

Arriving back at the stable, everyone got out of the carriage, leaving it to me to wake my dongsaeng up. “Sung! Sungie! We’re back, wake up!”, I whispered, shaking him gently. “H-Hyung?”, he rasped, breaking off coughing. “Are you ok?”, I frowned, taking in the flush, sitting high on his puffy squirrel-like cheeks. He nodded blinking sleepily before grabbing my outstretched hand and letting me help him out of the sleigh. Even when he was out, he kept holing on to me and I didn’t let go either, afraid he’d fall over because he was still half asleep. We met up with the other and Chan sighed as he watched me drag our rapper along. “Sungie, you’re sick, aren’t you?”, the leader stated what seemed obvious to all of us. “Felt ok when we left. Don’t feel so ok now”, he sniffed so quiet that I, being the only one who picked it up, had to repeat. I rubbed his back comfortingly as he burrowed his face in my shoulder again. Poor boy, he was so out of it. “Well, I would have offered to treat everyone to hot chocolate at the inn behind the stable but I think we should rather take Jisung home”, Chan pondered. “Don’t let me hold you back. We don’t often get to hang out like this”, the rapper assured, standing up straight.

After a few minutes of contemplation, we entered the small inn. It was cozy and rustic. Dimly lit, it was warmed by a large fireplace on one side of the room. We chose a table and let Jisung sit closest to the fire because he was still shivering when all of us took out coats off, feeling rather toasty. Chan went to order while Felix walked over taking his scarf off and wrapping it around the sniffling Jisung. The rapper gave a weak cough before being able to thank his twin vocally. When he looked up at the slightly younger, the glow of the fire emphasized the sickly gloss covering his eyes. I knew the Aussie had noticed it too because he bit his lip, not knowing how to help his friend further. By now, I was certain of the fever Jisung was running but there was nothing I could do about it. Watching his eyes flutter shut and head dip down repeatedly before he could compose himself. I scooted closer, wrapping my arm around his waist and gently guiding his head onto my shoulder, like we had sat earlier. There were no words needed, his grateful smile told me I had done everything right.

Soon our drinks arrived and gently squeezed my dongsaeng’s side, making him blink up confused before his eyes landed on the steaming cup in front of him. Picking his head up from my shoulder, he wrapped his shaky hands around the warm cup, raising it to his lips and taking a small sip before quickly putting it back down. The liquid must have tickled his throat because as soon as the cup was out of his hands, he turned away from me coughing painfully. I kept rubbing his back through his coat throughout the whole ordeal. When he caught his breath again, he gave me a teary smile before picking his cup back up and letting the warm liquid sooth the scratchiness that had come with coughing.

Though they were watching, our members didn’t comment on it, when Jisung cuddled back into me and I rubbed his arm through the coat to calm his shivering. They knew how much of a soft spot I had for the younger and loved to tease me about it. It’s true, I was really soft for the sick boy and having him seek comfort from me out of all people almost made my heart explode with happiness. Trying to push back the overwhelming flood of feelings, I took a drink from my chocolate and met eyes with Hyunjin. Soon after, my phone buzzed.

H: You’re so whipped uwu!!!!

Pocketing my phone, I glared at him, causing him to break into laughter. Jisung, squirmed at the noise and I put a soothing hand onto his head to keep him right there. We had a hushed conversation while sipping our hot chocolate, quiet enough to not wake the rapper that had nodded of immediately after downing his drink. When we were done and had paid, I picked the younger up and carried him to the car that would take us back to the dorm, ignoring the giggles behind me. Yes, I was whipped, so what?

On the ride back, Jisung did what he had done all day, which was sleeping against my shoulder and snoring congested into my ear. Did I mind though? Hell no, I never would!

#sick #sickfic #fanfic #whump #christmas #skz #stray kids #han jisung #minsung #fluff #comfort #bxb

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triviasfolly · 5 years ago

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Chili Peppers, Lotus Flowers, and Giant Squid Ink

Fandom: The Untamed & MDZS / Pairing: WangXian / Rating: T

Wei Wuxian wanted to kill whoever decided to have Advanced Potions at eight in the morning. Because of them he was not only late to class, but also made him blurt out what amortentia smelled like. While he was standing next to to Lan Wangji, his best friend. Who also happened to smell just like the amortentia. But he totally couldn't be attracted to his best friend.

Right?

Read it on AO3

Wei Wuxian swore as he reached out to grab a pillar to bank around the corner without slowing his running. He held his red ribbon in his mouth as he tried to comb through the mess that was his long black hair with his hands. As he slid down the banister he gave up, settling for tying it up messily with the ribbon.

He practically launched himself down the staircase to the dungeons. Like diving off his broomstick, he tucked his head and rolled to his feet and continued barreling forward. He cursed whoever decided to make Advanced Potions at eight in the morning. Gryffindors lived in a bloody tower! How were they supposed to get there on time?

He barreled into the potions classroom, his chest heaving as he came to a stop. He pitched forward bracing his hands on his knees. He’d have to suggest this run to Jiang Cheng for the Quidditch team.

“Mr. Wei, how nice of you to join us,” Wen Qing’s voice broke through the quiet of the classroom. Wuxian lifted his head, giving a nod and a wave. The rest of the class was gathered around her table, a cauldron bubbling happily away on it. He was too far away to see what was in it.

“I overslept,” He offered as an apology. “Then the staircases shifted, and-”

“I rather not have your excuses distract from class time, 5 points for tardiness.” Wen Qing replied tersely. Wuxian nodded sheepishly as he plopped his bag down at his spot and moved to join the rest of the class.

Wen Qing was the youngest Potion’s Master in Hogwarts history, having graduated only a few years prior. She’d quickly shot down any ideas about special treatment to those who knew her as a student. In Wuxian’s case, having a teacher who knew he brewed a polyjuice potion in second year was a personal hell. He still had cramps from the last paper she demanded he redo, with the order to ‘write it properly this time’.

Wuxian grinned as he saw an open spot. He tugged lightly on the back of the Ravenclaw robe as he slid next to its owner. A pair of annoyed golden eyes slid to him, Wuxian’s own silver orbs winked in return.

“Lan Zhan, you really overdid it with the incense burning this morning.” He teased, his nostrils filled with the sandalwood scent lingering in the air. Usually, it was only trace amounts drifting off of Lan Wangji. Wangji wondered how much he had to burn to make it so strong.

Not that he was complaining.

“I did not burn incense this morning,” Wangji replied, his gaze focused on Wen Qing in front of him. Wuxian’s brow furrowed in confusion, why were Wangji’s ears bright red? They only did that when he was embarrassed.

“Wuxian, since you’re volunteering why don’t you tell us what else you smell?” Wen Qing smiled. Wuxian paused, was she hiding a laugh? He threw a glance around the class, seeing Jiang Cheng with his face in his hands.

Confused, Wuxian took a deep breath. The sandalwood was still there, but now he was picking up on two other scents. The first was loquats, but what was that final one?

“Sandalwood, loquats,” Wuxian paused trying to put a name to the final scent. He bounced in place as he tried to figure it out. “Fresh parchment and ink at the Library!” He named it, although seemed oddly specific. “Did I get it right? I don’t think I know any potions that smell like that.”

“We’re studying amortentia, idiot!” Jiang Cheng hissed from beside him.

Wuxian felt his blood freeze.

“Amortentia?” He almost stuttered.

“Yes,” Wen Qing nodded. “As Mr. Wei has shown, the unique trait of the Amortentia potion is the scent changes from person to person based on what they find attractive.”

Wuxian’s mind numbly tuned out Wen Qing as she continued her lecture. His mind connecting memories to all of the scents. The incense he burned during meditation that clung to his clothes. The loquats he pretended not to enjoy when Wuxian stole them from the kitchens. The scent of line writing detentions that morphed into study sessions. All of those scents traced back to Wangji.

Attracted?

The word bounced around Wuxian’s head. Lan Wangji was his friend, just his friend. Right? It wasn’t like he hated it when he didn’t see him for more than a day. Or that he was filled with a happy warmth whenever he saw him. He teased and flirted with him because it was cute to see him react.

Did he say cute?

Cute, his mind repeated. Cute, like the way his ears turned red when he was embarrassed. The aggravated tick of his eyebrows. The way he vocalized his exasperation with a small huff. The tender upturning of his lips when he smiled. Would they be soft if he kissed him? Wuxian felt heat flood into his body.

He was in love with Lan Wangji.

He was in love with his best friend.

“Wei Ying?” Wangji’s voice questioned. Wuxian let out a squeak as his eyes focused on the face before him. The golden orbs and those lips so close. Wuxian stared at his lips for a moment, before he realized what he was doing and nervously pulled his eyes away. “We’re moving on to potion making.”

“I-” Wuxian stammered. “I need to go.”

Before anyone could say anything Wei Wuxian was fleeing. He made it out of the dungeons before he slumped against a wall, running his hands through his hair. He couldn’t be in love with Wangji! It would ruin everything. It would mean the end of their late night study sessions, the visits to the illegal colony of rabbits they accidently started, their one-on-one quidditch matches. Everything he loved about their friendship, ruined by his stupid emotions.

After all it was obvious Lan Wangji didn’t like him back. They’d known each other for six years. Wangji might take awhile to get to know, but even Wangji would have made a move by now. He didn’t know what was worse, realizing he liked Wangji or that he didn’t like him back.

He needed to talk to shijie.

Pushing himself off the wall, he was crawling off to his favorite hiding place. After Jiang Cheng had found out he used the Boathouse as a hiding place, Wuxian had been on the lookout for a new one. He wasn’t sure how, or why, a classroom on the fifth floor was slowly being overtaken by a magical pond. But when he stumbled into it while dodging a night patrol, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. With a quick disillusionment charm, the room was Wuxian’s own little secret.

Wuxian moved quickly, careful to avoid any teachers, or prefects, that would know he should be in class. Before he knew it, he was sliding off his shoes and his socks and feeling grass beneath his feet. As he let his toes squeeze what felt like real ground, he wondered if it was real. He made a note to ask Wangji about it.

The idea made the reason Wuxian was hiding come crashing back to the front of his mind. He took a moment to roll up his pant legs, setting his feet adrift in the water. With a sigh, he dug in his robes producing a small mirror. He rubbed his thumb over its surface and in a manner of moments Jiang Yanli’s face was smiling back at him.

“A-Xian, shouldn’t you be in class?” She greeted him. He watched her face fall slightly as his own face came into focus. “Is everything alright?”

“No,” Wuxian shook his head. He could feel tears welling up in his eyes. “Shijie, I messed up.”

“Did a prank go wrong?” Yanli questioned her eyes widening. “Are you hurt?”

“No, not a prank.” Wuxian shook his head. “We studied amortentia today. I was late, so I blurted out what I smelt in front of everyone.”

“I’ve never known you to be embarrassed,” Yanli hummed in reply. “Was the scent distinctive?”

“It’s Lan Zhan,” Wuxian replied, wiping at his face. “I’m in love with Lan Zhan. I just blurted it out in front of him and everyone else.”

“A-Xian,” Yanli laughed.

“It’s not funny shijie,” Wuxian whined. “We’ve known each other for six years, if he liked me he would have made a move by now. Now he knows that my stupid love potion smells exactly like him! I’m going to be stuck staring at his stupid gorgeous face and thinking about how I want to kiss him and it’ll ruin our friendship! Our bunnies will be parentless.”

“A-Xian,” Yanli interrupted him. “Have you talked to Wangji about this?”

“No,” Wuxian replied. “But I know Lan Zhan, I would have noticed.”

“You would have noticed,” Yanli replied, a smile playing on her lips.

“I’m glad you find my pain funny,” Wuxian sniffed. He saw Yanli roll her eyes, a hand coming up as if she was trying to tuck some of Wuxian’s hair behind his ear. He subconsciously did it for her.

“A-Xian, who brought you soup and stayed with you for three days when you got sick after swallowing the ink after you startled the giant squid?” Yanli questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“Lan Zhan,” Wuxian sniffed in reply.

“Who sneaks you sugar quills in class?” Yanli continued. “Who helped you free the rabbits from the transfiguration room and relocated them to your ‘illegal colony’? Or who willingly stands by with healing charms when you practice new quidditch moves?”

“Shijie, that’s because we’re friends.”

“So he does that with all of his friends?” Yanli questioned raising an eyebrow. “Talk to him A-Xian.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Yanli shook her head. “Don’t call me back until you talk to him.”

Wuxian watched his sister cut the mirror’s transmission with an open mouth. He groaned as he fell back against the grass. Yanli was supposed to reassure him, to tell him everything would work out. She wasn’t supposed to confuse him further. Afterall, Wangji had done those things because they’re friends, hadn’t he?

Wuxian let out a growl of frustration as he pressed his hands over his eyes. Why did he have to fall in love with his best friend? He flirted with dozens of people, granted none of them were as pretty as Lan Zhan, but falling in love with one of them wouldn’t ruin his life. Wuxian let his feet flail in the water, feeling water hit him from the splashes.

“You can do this,” Wuxian rallied himself. “You’ve hung out with Lan Zhan every day for like 4 years. I mean this attraction didn’t happen overnight, I just know it’s there now.” He muttered to himself. “We can just bottle it up and nothing has to change.”

Wuxian was drug out of his internal, and external, monologue by the feeling of something warm on his chest. He lifted his hands off his eyes, tilting his head to see a silver rabbit on his chest.

“Hello there,” Wuxian greeted. “Whose patronus might you be?” Wuxian hummed as he reached out. He pouted as his hand passed through the patronus. “Guess that solves my question about being able to pet a patronus. I know, I’ll give you someone to play with!”

The rabbit hopped off his chest as he sat up. He dug around in his robes, quickly producing his own wand. With a flick, his own silver rabbit was hopping around. He propped his elbow on his knee, setting his chin on it to watch the two rabbits bounce around. His rabbit was definitely more lively with the other one. As he watched it hop circles around the other, he wondered if it was bothering the other rabbit.

“Wei Ying.”

Wuxian jumped, turning to see Wangji standing at the edge of the grown grass. He felt his brain freeze. He had charms up. This was supposed to be his hiding place! He wasn’t ready for this conversation yet.

“Lan Zhan,” Wuxian nervously smiled. He felt his face flush as he turned back to the rabbits, pulling his knees to his chest. The patronus that wasn’t his came bounding back over to him. It nuzzled against his hand, sending an odd warmth through it as passed through it. Once it was done, it was hopping over to Lan Zhan.

“Mn,” Wangji hummed to it. With a flick of his wand the rabbit was gone.

“Lan Zhan, is that your patronus?” Wuxian questioned wide eyed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen it’s corporeal form before.”

“Mn,” Wangji nodded, moving to sit next to him. Wuxian’s own rabbit came bounding up to him, hopping in circles around them.

“Sorry,” Wuxian laughed dismissing his own patronus. “I guess he’s a bit annoying like me.”

“Not annoying,” Wangji replied. Wuxian looked over when he heard him pulling something out of his robes. He couldn’t help but smile when he pulled out a sugar quill and offered it to him.

“Ah, Lan Zhan,” Wuxian grinned, taking it. “You must like sugar quills as much as I do, you always seem to have one on you.”

“You like them,” Wangji replied.

“I think we’ve already established that,” Wuxian chuckled as he sucked absentmindedly at the tip of it.

“I carry them because you like them,” Wangji restated.

“Ah?” Wuxian turned to him. “Do you really not like them?”

“I prefer loquats,” Wangji replied.

“Ah, Lan Zhan, don't remind me.” Wuxian flushed clutching his knees to his chest. He wished this conversation wasn’t happening right now. “I’m embarrassed enough.”

“Chili peppers, lotus flowers and Great Squid Ink.” Wangji spoke.

“What?” Wuxian turned to him.

“What I smelled,” Wangji replied, his ears flaming red. “From the amortentia.”

“Wait,” Wuxian back tracked. “Great Squid Ink?”

“Mn,” Wangji nodded.

“Why does the person you like smell like Great Squid Ink?” Wuxian pouted. Of course Wangji would like someone else. They were probably smart, charming, and probably just as good looking as Wangji. He already wanted to punch them in the face.

“Because they decided to provoke it and got sick for three days,” Wangji replied. Wuxian stared at him for a moment.

“But Lan Zhan, I got sick for three days after startling the great squid!” Wuxian tugged on his sleeve. He saw the tick of annoyance in Wangji’s face. “I think I would have heard of someone else doing that. You just don’t want to tell me who you like,” He started to turn away to look out over the pond. He supposed it was for the best, he’d just make Wangji angry if he punched his crush.

Suddenly hands were grabbing the front of his robes. Wuxian let out a squeal of surprise, but found it silenced by a pair of lips.

Wangji’s lips.

On his.

Wuxian felt his mind short out, his eyes flickering closed as he leaned into the kiss. It wasn't an elegant kiss, but hot and needy. Wuxian’s hands wound their way up into Wangji’s hair, pulling him closer. His question from earlier managed to surface, and he let his tongue trail out to find out if Wangji’s lips were soft.

After the briefest brush of his tongue against Wangji’s lips, nowhere near enough time to determine if they were soft or not. Wuxian found something hot and wet eagerly twisting out to wrestle with his own. He felt Wangji shift forward, pressing his weight up against him.

The new weight caught Wuxian off guard and his hand flew back to support it. Wuxian gasped as his hand slipped in the grass and he started to fall backwards. The hand in Wangji’s hair only succeeded in pulling him down on top of him.

He heard a surprised grunt from Wangji, as he started to pull back. Wuxian let out a whine of protest, quickly pulling him back. When they finally parted, they were both panting. Wuxian’s eyes opened, finding Wangji’s darkened eyes staring back at him. A rare smile on his lips.

“You know,” Wuxian grinned, shifting his hand in Wangji’s hair to trace his lips. They were a bit swollen, but soft as imagined. “You really shouldn’t be kissing me when you’ve got someone who smells like squid ink to go find.”

He laughed at the exasperated huff Wangji let out, eagerly pulling those soft lips back down to his own.

#mdzs #mdzs fanfiction #fanfiction #trivia writes #the untamed #the untamed fanfiction #lan wangji/wei wuxian #hogwarts au #amortentia fic

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tasteslikepepsicola · 5 years ago

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Somebody Else (Sodapop Curtis x Reader Part 5)

Part 4 - please read this before continuing

It all comes down to this, chemistry is chemistry. Soulmates, no matter how hard they fight it, are soulmates. At this turning point in the series, Y/N must face her feelings for both Sodapop and Steve.

Word Count: 1,400+

Warnings: none except (SPOILER: *slight cheating*)

Authors Note: I can’t express how much the support on this series has meant to me. I know this isn’t a super huge fandom the way others are, but I think this community is one of the most supportive and amazing out there. I am so thankful for this series for allowing me to escape from reality and live vicariously through these characters, and I really hope its allowed you to do the same. There will be one more part after this, as of right now, but I’m already emotional about no longer writing for these characters and this storyline. (I will continue to write for the outsiders, but most likely not with this storyline after the next part.) I’m sorry this took so long to put out, school has just been keeping me really busy lately. I love you all so much, and it would mean the world to me if you could leave a note and share <3 you’re amazing. Thank you. Hope you love it as much as I do.

A week had passed since the party, and Y/N had seemingly spent every waking minute with Steve. The gang joked that they were attached at the hip. Funnily enough, when Steve and Y/N were around, Sodapop seemed to never be.

They were always touching in some way, Steve held his arm around her, or placed his hand on the small of her back, or she held his hand, tightening her grip every now and then, her way of telling him she loved him without having to vocalize it.

Although she didn’t realize until much later, that physical contact must have been her clinging to what she knew could be lost in an instant, a superficial love.

One particular night, the gang had decided to all meet up at the Curtis’ house to watch a movie.

“I don’t think we should,” Y/N tried to reason one more time as they were walking out the door.

“It will be fine, Y/N, I’m sure Sodapop won’t even be there.” Steve tried to sooth her worries.

“And if he is?” she inquired.

“He’s a big boy, I think he can tolerate our presence for one night.” he quipped.

Y/N didn’t want to start an argument, so with a sick feeling in her stomach, she let Steve lead her to his car.

The drive over was agonizing. Y/N shivered remembering the last night the whole gang was together, doing their usual thing, watching a movie and chatting, until-

“Y/N!” Steve announced loudly.

She shook her head to rid her mind of the troubled thoughts. “What- uh sorry, what?” she stuttered.

“We’re here. I was trying to get your attention for a while. Everything alright babe?”

He truly was not good at picking up her signals. Sometimes she just wished he could understand her the way Sodapop had.

“I- no, it’s fine. Let’s go, we’re already late.”

She didn’t wait for him to open her door, she did it herself and dashed up the stairs. He slowly approached her from behind, the two of them staring at the door. Y/N stood their with her arms crossed.

“Should we knock?” she asked.

“No,” he shook his head, “I mean- it’s Sod- uh, the Curtis’ house, we don’t have to knock, right?”

Before they could decide, Dallas thundered up the stairs behind them.

“Hey lovebirds!” he cried. Greeting Steve and pulling Y/N into a strong embrace.

“I’ve missed you guys, where you been?” he asked.

“Oh you know, here and there.” Y/N stated.

“We were at a party last week, Dallas? You stupid or something? Or did you just get out of the cooler again?” Steve teased.

“Watch your mouth, man.” he joked.

Again, another thundering boom of someone coming up the steps behind them. This time it was Two-Bit and Johnny.

They exchanged hellos before Two-Bit finally said, “What are we still doing out here for?” and opening up the door and walking straight in with no hesitation.

The rest of the gang followed, and were greeted with a smiling Ponyboy and Darry.

No Sodapop, then. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief. At least now she could try to enjoy her night.

*****

Y/N sat curled up on Steves lap, sharing a blanket. The rest of the gang was spread out across the room, filling up the couch and floor.

“I’ll be right back,” Y/N kissed Steve on the cheek, and climbed her way off the couch, making her way to the bathroom.

She turned the corner and walked down the hallway, and stood outside the bathroom door for a minute. She was about to go in when she stopped her hand from turning the knob. A part of her wanted to, no- needed to just take a peak in Sodapop’s room. She would be quick, no one would even notice she was gone. She just wanted to smell his familiar scent that lingered on his things. She wanted to feel close to him, even artificially, just for a second.

She entered the room with the single bed, bookshelves full of Ponyboy’s favorite novels, and the nightstand and dresser Sodapop filled with little nick nacks. She inspected the small tokens of memories that lay scattered along the dresser’s surface. She turned over a coin from an arcade, rolled the small model car around for a second, until her gaze stopped on a small black box. She wanted nothing more than to open it up and see what was inside, and maybe she might have, had she not been interrupted.

“So you’re stalking me now, then?” The handsome greaser leaned up against the doorway, watching amused.

Y/N jumped back a bit. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know you’re a lot more nosy then I remember.” he quipped.

Y/N sighed, before making her way to the doorway, wanting nothing more than to go back to watching the movie and cuddling with Steve.

“Excuse me, you’re in my way.” she crossed her arms, feigning annoyance.

“Am I?” He gently placed a hand on her arm, moving himself out of her way.

“Well I apologize.” he said sarcastically.

She scowled, beginning to walk away, deep down wishing he would follow after her.

Just ask me to stay. Don’t let me walk away again. She thought to herself.

“Y/N.”

She stopped in her tracks, turning around immediately, hope in her eyes.

And, devastatingly, he looked at her with that same look, his eyes begging her to stay.

“Can we just... talk?” he almost whispered his voice was so soft.

Wordlessly, Y/N stepped back into his room, taking a seat awkwardly on the bed. She stared back at him, waiting for him to say something.

“I don’t really know what to say…” he trailed off.

“Well, you wanted to talk, so talk.” she didn’t hide the annoyance in her voice.

Yes, she wanted to talk, of course she did, how could she not? But how could she not still be mad? After everything he put her through the past few weeks, she couldn’t pretend everything was fine.

“Okay, I miss you.” he says.

“What?” Y/N looked up at him, softening her expression, suddenly losing all sense of anger, tearing down the wall she had tried putting up. She was stupid to think Sodapop wouldn’t see right through her. They both knew at the end of the day, they needed each other.

“Please, just tell me you miss me too.” his voice breaks. “God- just lie to me, please. I can’t keep living like this.” he leaned against the wall, tossing his head back.

“Of course I miss you Sodapop, it kills me that I don’t get to see you.” her voice gets louder, frustration building. “Do you think now that I’m with Steve I just forgot about you? That I don’t still see you when I close my eyes at night and I can’t sleep?” tears welled in her eyes.

“I loved you and just disappeared from my life.” she said meekly.

“I couldn’t stay.”

“Where were you?”

“Anywhere you weren’t.”

“Why? Why did you just abandon me?”

“Because, Y/N.” he moved his arms dramatically, the way he always did when upset.

“Why?” she was almost yelling, no longer caring if anyone could hear them.

“Because I still love you. And I can’t bare to see you with somebody else.”

Silence. Neither moved. Until finally, Y/N made her way over to the moviestar handsome boy, placing her hands on both sides of his face, and connecting their lips.

Fireworks.

A fire set ablaze.

An explosion big enough to destroy all of Tulsa.

There was no way to describe the kiss other than life ruining, life saving, catastrophic, beautiful, and true.

He immediately reciprocated. The spark they had been fighting so long was lit ablaze, they were burning up, their flames consuming each other and everything around them.

He held her up as her knees buckled, too overwhelmed by emotion to even stand on her own two feet. Their lips didn’t disconnect for a second, it was like they were living in their own universe. One where they needed to stay like this forever to survive, one where life without the other didn’t exist.

Y/N’s head spun as she finally had to pull away.

“I need to go,” she whispered.

“Please don’t leave. I can’t lose you again.” Sodapop begged.

“You never could.” she grabbed his hand.

She placed her forehead against his, murmuring, “I love you.”

“I love you, always.” he replied.

“Always,” she said, before walking away one last time.

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the-odd-job · 4 years ago

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Up in Flames chapter 16 - Villain (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Optimus Prime, Prowl, Jazz, Ironhide Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 4105

( Previous )

His battle protocols had had the time to activate, and as always when he went under with them running, coming back up wasn’t a slow, peaceful climb into consciousness.

It was a violent whiplash that had every system roaring to life simultaneously, no time wasted on testing if everything even still worked.

Sunstreaker’s optics snapped open to the bright orange ceiling of the Ark, and he shot to sitting immediately after, his frame primed for a fight and very eager to remind him of the circumstances of how he’d lost consciousness.

As it was though, there was no immediate threat around him that he could see. He was… In the brig, the glowing energy bars of that particular cell trapping him inside.

That wasn’t too much of a surprise considering how he’d gotten snatched. The Autobots had rightly assumed that he would not have gone willingly if they’d just asked nicely.

They had also assumed rightly that he wouldn’t hang around if given the option to leave. That option clearly wasn’t given to him now. For whatever reason—and it could be no reason that would end well for him—they wanted him here, and were ready enough to force the matter by locking him up entirely.

This couldn’t be good, not for him, and… Not for the sparklet. Maybe especially not for the sparklet. Sunstreaker couldn’t stamp down on his anxiety before the little one had already responded, vibrating in his chamber, next to his own spark, in a way it hadn’t before. These weren’t good emotions, like were really all of the ones it had gotten to experience so far.

Figures it would be the Autobots to provide it with its first negative impressions of life.

Had his spark felt any calmer, he could have tried to calm it, but pits, he wasn’t exactly calm himself. There was anxiety, some poorly articulated fear, but more than anything, there was his ever familiar anger. This sparkling was no stranger to that after every time Megatron had annoyed him, sometimes some of the other ‘Cons, but this time there was no… Thrill to go with it. No enjoyment under it, like he would have enjoyed Megatron’s attention even if the mech was driving him nuts.

None of the enjoyment of delivering some hurt to whichever ‘Con was aggravating at the time, usually in the training ring.

This was just anger, and fear, and anxiety—and, maybe, helplessness.

How helpless was he, really? A quick scan of his systems at least confirmed they’d locked his subspace, and pits, done who knows what to him while he was under. Sunstreaker quickly pulled up his logs, rubbing at his chest as he did. It wasn’t altogether comfortable to feel the sparkling twist and turn, nervous itself, even if it didn’t really understand what the threat was.

The plating of his chassis wasn’t smooth under his servo, not with the gash Megatron had dug across his insignia. His servo caught on the rough edges of it and made it impossible to forget how much he wasn’t an Autobot anymore. These weren’t friendly hands that had captured him.

And that was what they’d done. Captured him. Kidnapped, really.

They’d rooted around his systems, too. His physical readings had been looked at, armor shifted around presumably to have a look underneath—his coding hadn’t been tampered with, no fixes had been attempted, but he had more recent logs of diagnostic runs, and traces of the opening of several bits of programming. Not for edits, clearly, but for viewing.

Quite many of those related to the carrier protocols Hook and Ratchet had already looked at. Many other readings that had been viewed belong to the systems keeping tabs on the sparkling.

A medic’s signature had been left behind, too. Sunstreaker feared the worst when he looked at who had rooted around his frame while he was unconscious, but… It wasn’t Ratchet.

First Aid.

Sunstreaker growled to himself. He didn’t know why Ratchet wasn’t the one to have examined him, but some part of him was relieved he hadn’t… Really, breached their trust like that. Maybe he shouldn’t trust Ratchet anymore, but slaggit, he did anyway, at least to an extent. They didn’t belong to the same side anymore, but Ratchet had ethics and a personal code he followed.

They didn’t belong to the same side anymore. Had they and Sunstreaker would have only considered it natural he’d have taken a look at his systems. That was what medics did.

But now, that consent didn’t exist. Were they enemies? He wasn’t a Decepticon either, so maybe not.

But they were not comrades, or allies.

First Aid, clearly, hadn’t cared about details like that, although Sunstreaker wondered under whose bidding he’d performed the rather thorough examination on.

He wasn’t distracted enough by his internal investigation to miss the sound of someone moving to the outside of his cell, and he definitely didn’t miss the shadow cast they cast with the corridor lights behind them.

Sunstreaker lifted his gaze, glaring even before his optics landed on… Ironhide. The twin threw his legs off the side of the small slab of a berth just as Ironhide brought one servo to the side of his helm. “He’s up.”

Oh, they were waiting on him, were they?

Ironhide’s servo dropped, and so did his optics—landing on Sunstreaker’s servo on his chassis, still trying to ease the physical sensation of the sparkling’s growing distress as his mood only soured further instead of providing relief to the little thing.

Somehow Sunstreaker really didn’t appreciate the scrutiny, and let his arm slip away, doubling his glare. Ironhide didn’t look away right away, though, instead frowning at his chassis—and the insignia he still wore, but only to show he no longer belonged to that side.

“The slag you looking at?” Sunstreaker snapped once he got tired of the staring. Ironhide jerked from whatever trance he’d fallen into and looked up at him, in the optic for a fragging change. He opened his mouth to say something, too, but before he could, there was commotion from outside the main doors to the brig. Even Sunstreaker could hear it.

It wasn’t quite yelling, but it was clear enough there was an argument. He couldn’t make out all of the words, really, none of them—except some of those spoken by a voice that he couldn’t mistake.

Ratchet. The medic was rather vocal right then, as he always was when he was angry. Was he angry now? Sounded like so. Sunstreaker tuned his audials to listen in, but he could still only catch snippets. “–The stress you’re putting him under–!

“No!

“This is insanity–!

“I’m the physician–!

“Slag no!

“–let me–!”

“–Do not have my support!”

Then it ended. Sunstreaker could imagine Ratchet’s angry march as he left. He could definitely hear the stomping that always accompanied that.

The doors to the brig opened after. It wasn’t as if Sunstreaker could see who it was from where he was, but he didn’t need to guess for long because his visitors made their way straight to him.

Ratchet wasn’t among them, of course he wasn’t. Ironhide nodded at the arrivals—at Optimus, at Prowl, at Jazz.

High command then, basically. Sunstreaker got to his pedes, not particularly feeling like being shorter than everyone else. Upright and the only one who still managed to tower over him was the goddamn Prime. “Should I feel honored little old me is getting so important visitors?” he asked oh so sincerely, crossing his arms over his chassis and glaring some more.

But not before he was sure everyone had gotten a real good look at his chassis, his ruined insignia. Yeah yeah, ogle away, what did he care! What the slag were they expecting? That he would’ve no longer had an insignia at all? That he’d have a Decepticon one instead?

Honestly, both were probably fair assumptions, just not very… Megatron.

And still, despite the fucking fact he hadn’t been an Autobot for quite a few months, still, fragging still both Prowl and Ironhide saw fit to give him a disapproving look. For what? His slagging disrespect? Cry him a river, they all had it coming after this. Sunstreaker revved his engine, angrier by the second—and the sparkling growing ever more restless, until his core was really starting to feel too small for the both of them and he had to fight the urge to go back to rubbing his chestplates, despite the fact that did absolutely no good.

“I know these circumstances are less than ideal–” Optimus started, ever the diplomat, but Sunstreaker cut him off without fanfare or mercy.

“‘Less than ideal’? You fucking kidnap me and lock me in the goddamn brig,” he hissed, stepping up to the bars and craning his neck back to glare the Prime in the optic. “So would you fucking tell me what the frag is my crime this time?”

“Disregarding all of the events prior to your… Defection,” Prowl said, smooth and cool as ever. Sunstreaker transferred his glare at him, but then Jazz picked up where the SIC left off and that was yet another mech that deserved to be the recipient of his attempt at dropping them dead with his optics alone.

“There’s no crime, Sunstreaker,” was what Jazz had to say, but then he didn’t continue because Optimus spoke up again, and could they just fucking decide who was going to speak instead of transferring the script from one mech to another?

And what did Optimus say? “This is for your own good.”

Red. That was what Sunstreaker saw, besides the shadow creatures blotting out the edges of his vision. He laughed, although there wasn’t much humor behind the sound. “I knew it,” Sunstreaker said, his voice barely more than a guttural growl—words hardly there with the fucking anger that was really starting to get the better of him, and he was quickly losing the will to even try to fight it.

The sparkling flared, hard, and this time Sunstreaker uncrossed his arms to rub at his chest before he could think better of it. He continued all the same, “Optimus Prime, ever the altruist. So what the pit did I need saving from this time?” He was pretty damn sure he fucking knew already, but fragging Prime could spell it out for himself.

“We had reason to think your allegiance to Megatron is forced,” Prowl said, simply enough.

“And why’s that?” Sunstreaker growled, one unpleasant option quickly coming to the forefront. “Did Ratchet talk?”

“No,” Optimus said with feeling, as if he fragging cared how Sunstreaker felt about Ratchet, “Ratchet respected patient confidentiality. If he hadn’t…”

“You already know our concerns are valid, don’t you?” Prowl asked.

Sunstreaker stayed silent, only meeting the tactician’s optics without a waver. So, this was how it was always going to go, no matter what Ratchet had done? He didn’t talk, and they wanted to find out the answers for themselves.

He talked, and they’d have still done something, because their goddamn ‘concerns’ would have gotten validated by Ratchet’s findings.

“First Aid saw your protocols are active,” Optimus said, inclining his helm. There was worry—probably genuine—in his optics when Sunstreaker looked back at him.

“That don’t access my emotional cortex,” Sunstreaker snapped before Optimus could say any more. “I fragging know already.”

He also knew that wasn’t the issue.

“But they do make you predisposed to the sire,” Prowl confirmed as much. “Even without response from your emotional cortex, that is worrisome.”

Deep breaths. He wanted to fragging explode on the spot like a goddamn star going supernova, but… Oh, what the fuck was he expecting? That they’d listen to anything he’d say at this point?

What good would talking be? “Why didn’t Ratchet examine me?” he ground out anyway, because that was a point of real curiosity.

“Ratch refused,” Jazz responded. “He wanted nothing to do with this.”

Well, at least someone was doing the right thing. One fragging decent Autobot on the whole goddamn planet.

Optimus cleared his vocalizer, bringing everyone’s attention back to him. Sunstreaker cut him off again, though, right as the Prime was about to speak. “It doesn’t matter that I’ve said, several times, that I want to stay with the Decepticons?” he snarled, as much as he already knew the answer.

“We can’t be certain how much your protocols are affecting you,” Optimus said anyway. “I fear it is not truly your choice, but rather forced upon you by your coding—and by Megatron himself.”

“This is not my choice,” Sunstreaker hissed, leaning close enough to the bars that he could feel their heat on his faceplates, “being here. My choice is being with the Decepticons.”

“And Megatron plays no role in that?” Prowl asked, disbelieving.

“Our desires align.” They wouldn’t believe that though, would they?

“Could be that’s just the carrier coding talking,” Jazz pointed out.

Yeah, see, they didn’t believe slag.

“I find it hard to believe you would stay truly voluntarily, were you unaffected by your coding,” Optimus rumbled. Something about his tone had Sunstreaker focusing on him and frowning a little harder.

The Prime hesitated for a moment before he apparently chose to just bite the bullet and get on with it. “First Aid found many old injuries on your frame.”

And when you read between the lines?

Sunstreaker covered his face with his servos and fought the impulse to scream into them. The urge to not keep it together was real.

“I’ve sparred with the lot of them,” he said, firmly, once he dropped his servos again to give his continued glare an unhindered path. “That racks up some injuries.”

“And none of them are from Megatron?” Prowl again, ever the skeptic.

Sunstreaker growled. “I’ve sparred with him too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It wasn’t what he was asking and they all knew it. Things lapsed into silence for a moment, apparently none of them really comfortable with the topic. Well, Sunstreaker wasn’t going to try to make it any easier for them.

Fuck them all.

Prowl’s wings flicked, but he was eventually the one to continue. “That he abuses you is not a mere supposition.” The SIC was too good to let his voice lose its calm, but his doorwings still gave him off with the way they shivered. He did not want to be talking about this.

Looked like Sunstreaker was the only one who didn’t really care. “He took off your valve cover,” Prowl managed to force out anyway. And there it was. Their basis for assuming Megatron got a bit rough with him, which wasn’t a lie to begin with.

They just didn’t get it. “It’s called foreplay,” Sunstreaker kindly informed them, leaning back to cross his arms again. “You should try it sometime.”

“Sunstreaker,” Optimus said, and the twin reluctantly looked up at him. What now?

Nothing good, that’s what. “You don’t have to live under Megatron’s abuse. You don’t need to put up with it. You have other options.”

It sounded like he so very genuinely meant that.

“Like what?” Sunstreaker snapped. “Crawl back to the Autobots and beg for forgiveness? I wouldn’t fragging do that even if he was ‘abusing’ me—which he isn’t.”

“Kid, I know you’ve got your pride, but there ain’t anything shameful in admittin’ you’re sometimes in over yer head,” Ironhide said where he’d been quiet this whole duration.

That anger? It was quickly rising the same way it did when Megatron disregarded what he said because his his his sparkling, yada yada yada, and they went in circles around that topic until Sunstreaker caved—but this was worse. This wasn’t Megatron acknowledging that he wanted something different, and then overruling that want anyway.

This was the Autobots deciding he didn’t know what the frag he was talking about, that he was lying, that he didn’t know what he wanted– “Are any of you actually listening to me?” Sunstreaker demanded, passing his glare between all four of them, “Because it’s getting really fucking tiresome to get treated like my words don’t mean shit.”

“The matter of your protocols remains,” Prowl said. He said something more too, but Sunstreaker couldn’t hear it over the noise that fragging roared up in his audials at just that bit. He stumbled back a step, pressed a servo to his helm—blasted hot air from his vents as the shadow folk crept further into his field of vision. And touched him. He could’ve sworn they were there–

But then, as he cycled several ventilations and fought to maintain his control of himself, they receded, disappearing back into the ether they came from. He would’ve said they were gone, but no, they never really were.

Just less numerous, usually.

He ignored the traces of phantom pings on his sensors and lifted his gaze back up to see all four Autobots staring at him. Sunstreaker scowled.

“Your glitch’s worsened too, about since you started your tryst with ol’ Megs,” Jazz pointed out. “That don’t mean anything?”

It meant he had started to reconsider his stance regarding his glitch. Did he want to say that much, though? Talk about how drastically Megatron’s opinion of it differed from the Autobot sentiments? “Yeah, well, trying to keep that whole thing from becoming public knowledge was a bit stressful.”

With how little anyone was listening to him, he didn’t particularly feel like having his explanation regarding his glitch get ignored like everything else he said was getting ignored. Plus he’d probably just get preached at about the dangers of his glitch and how irresponsible it would be to let it out of control and whatever the frag else the Autobots were always so fragging eager to fill his audials with.

It was as if the Autobots wanted him to be ashamed of himself—of what he was.

He was a little slagging tired of that by now.

“What prompted you to fight Megatron during that one of your encounters?” Optimus asked. Right, how could he forget. The one encounter and the one fight the Autobots could genuinely claim to know of. Did they also know that was the time when he’d told Megatron about the sparkling and promptly gotten into an argument with him?

Getting into arguments with the mech was really the norm. Glitching while at it? Not that far out either. “He was annoying,” Sunstreaker gave his honest to Primus answer. And obviously, Megatron had needed to pay for that, and what better way than to go berserk and bring some unholy smiting into the game through his glitch? Sounded like a good way to him.

“You decided to fight Megatron, because he was annoyin’?” Ironhide asked incredulously.

Sunstreaker gave him a patronizing look. “Now, ‘Hide, you know me better than that. What other fragging reason have I ever needed to fight someone?”

“You had to know you couldn’ win,” Jazz said, like what wasn’t obvious to the whole world.

“Hasn’t really stopped me before, either.” Any more useless statements?

“You didn’t fight him because he was trying to interface with you?” Optimus asked. A slightly less dumb thing to say, considering it was Megatron.

But, “No, I didn’t fight him because he was trying to ‘face me,” Sunstreaker answered in the most mocking tone he could manage. Never let it be forgotten he was here not out of his own free will, but because some ass eaters had decided to snatch him right up and lock him up for good measure. If there weren’t bars between him and them, between him and freedom, he would’ve been gone a long time ago.

They really couldn’t expect his cooperation, considering the circumstances.

“Did he ignite you on purpose?” Prowl took the turn to ask. The tactician had probably been hard at work considering all of the possible ways things had gone and would go. How lovely it had to be to get some answers to things the Autobots really had had no way of knowing.

Why was he over here telling them this slag though? It was none of their fragging business.

“No. He was as surprised as I was,” Sunstreaker responded anyway. No doubt it wouldn’t make them vilify Megatron any less, but at least they’d know the slagging truth.

If they believed it, anyway. There were good chances they’d just think he didn’t know as well as he thought he did.

But they hadn’t been there to see Megatron’s surprise upon first hearing about it, and everything that had come after that really didn’t sit in line with the theory the tyrant had planned it all along.

“And you didn’t get ignited on purpose?” Prowl asked next. Sunstreaker rolled his optics as fucking hard as he could manage.

“No. What would I have even gained by doing that? My life’s a mess because of this whole goddamn accident.” He couldn’t say it hadn’t also improved, but frag, was he somehow supposed to foresee that much? He wasn’t a clairvoyant.

“Sunstreaker, I want you to understand you can still come back.” Optimus just loved to keep repeating that, without ever listening or accepting all of the reasons why that wasn’t true.

“No, I can’t. And more importantly, I don’t want to,” Sunstreaker said with as much emphasis as he could manage. “So if we’re done here, I’d really love to get back home already.”

Did he consider it home? He wasn’t sure yet, but the word sure had the intended effect of pulling a couple of surprised revs from his captors’ engines. Maybe it would drive the point home.

More likely they’d still go back to the carrier coding to gleefully point all the fingers at it and announce it meant Sunstreaker had no agency separate from the infernal protocols.

“I can’t let you return,” Optimus said, and oh, he probably really thought he was doing a good thing through whatever wrong and twisted logic he was employing. “I cannot subject either you or the innocent life you’re carrying to Megatron’s evil.”

What the fuck..?

“You fragging think,” Sunstreaker started, leaning back to the bars and keeping Optimus’ stare, “that he’d let anything keep him from it?”

The Prime’s optics hardened with resolve. “I’m willing to press the issue.”

“So’s he,” Sunstreaker pointed out, “and he’s not going to just stop after it separates, either. You ought to know him. He’ll hunt the damn thing to the edges of the world if that’s what it takes. You can’t keep him from it.”

“And you’re fine with all of this?” Prowl asked while Optimus mulled over what he’d said.

Sunstreaker shifted his gaze to the tactician and shrugged. “It was the deal we came to.”

“Deal? Did you actually have a say at any point?” Of course Jazz would quickly pick on little details like that. Sunstreaker glared at him, but unless he felt like lying, there wasn’t much he could say. He was fine with the conclusion they’d come to with Megatron, but no, he hadn’t really had any other options than to agree to what the warlord wanted.

But if he didn’t think it was an issue, it wasn’t really an issue, was it?

“The young one should have a right to its own freedom,” Optimus said now, apparently having sorted out his thoughts. “I have to protect that right.”

Ugh.

“What about my freedom while we’re at it?” Sunstreaker snarled, hitting the bars with one hand and ignoring the resulting burn. His plating was heat resistant anyway. It wouldn’t damage him severely. “That means nothing?”

“This is for your own good,” Optimus repeated, more firmly this time. “For as long as the carrier coding is active–”

“You’re letting your hatred of Megatron blind you!” Sunstreaker interrupted, hitting the bars caging him with both hands this time. “You can’t fathom that someone could be okay with him, understand him, be understood by him—all you can see is a mech you’ve made the nemesis of your world!”

All was quiet for a moment after his little outburst, four sets of optics staring at him with varying expressions. Surprise, confusion, concern… “What do you see in him, kid?” Ironhide asked, sounding a little wary—like he expected he wouldn’t like the answer very much.

“The sire of my sparkling,” Sunstreaker bit out, “who has the right to it.” As Megatron loved to remind him. Didn’t change it was true, though.

“Considering Megatron’s track record, it would be little short of unethical to let him his way with the sparkling,” Prowl said, frowning now. Right after Sunstreaker had just informed them of the obvious fact that Megatron would have it no other way.

The twin snarled at the lot of them. “Then what do you suggest?”

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #sunstreaker #optimus prime #prowl #jazz #ironhide #fic #2021 #ashes #up in flames

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