#Little by little I gave up on Magnus

[ushsblog]

Cedlock with a bit of one-side-magric. Toxic Magric.

Warnings: (Toxic relationships, cheating, forced marriage)

I'm actually not so sure if a warning is necessary but just in case, there it is.

So, this came from somewhere in my head while my History class was talking about Henry VIII, and it ended up like this.

[ilovettrpgs]

rip Magnus Carter you would have loved causing problems for the general public and also not having mad cow syndrome

[fiendishartist2]

it's your conclusions that make mine delusions– tma

Jon's feet dangled underneath him, hanging limp. Papers fluttered to the floor, forgotten in the mad scramble between the two men. Jon's hands rested loosely around Tim's wrists, just above where his fists were twisted into Jon's collar. With his back against the wall, Jon was trapped completely under his co-worker's wrath. Tim stepped closer, crushing a lazily written report under his shoe.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Stoker?" Jon asked lightly. Tim's nose scrunched with disgust as Jon's smirk widened enough to bare teeth.

"Stop smiling," Tim snarled, "Stop fucking- what is wrong with you? Why are you here?" Although his grip on Tim's wrists remained deciptively gentle– hands poised so that fingertips just brushed skin– Jon's expression grew hungry. Entertainment flickered behind dark irises; Tim got the sense Jon was relishing in his desperation.

"I work here." Jon answered simply, unbothered despite the way Tim's knuckles dug into his throat. Tim barked out a mirthless laugh.

"Not the same way the rest of us do. Prove it- prove you're trapped by- by whatever is wrong with this place. Go ahead, Sims. Say it." He goaded, hoping Jon would rise to the bait. Jonathan Sims was perpetually level-headed, but Tim was at his wits end.

He wanted this puppeteer wearing a human face out of his life– out of all of their lives.

"Personally, I don't have any desire to leave. I'm quite happy with this job." Tim growled, rearing back and slamming Jon into the wall. The back of his head hit the damp drywall with a satisfying crack. Jon blinked rapidly, dazed.

Tim's blood pounded in his ears; he wanted to hurt this thing under his hands and he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. It was destroying his friends, creeping like a crawling rot into every nook and cranny of their minds. Slowly, it invaded– a sweet croon here, a sharp discouragement there; watchful eyes and cutting words hidden behind an open kindness that came from the confidence of security. It felt safe picking them apart sinew by bloody sinew.

Sasha was ruining herself and wouldn't listen to reason. She ran headfirst into any situation she thought would give her leads, not even bothering to tell anyone when she was in danger. She was working longer hours, talking to people in her office in secret, stashing tapes and statements in odd places he and Martin wouldn't look. Every new statement plucked from the mess Gertrude left behind sent her on a spiral, clawing for any connection to latch onto– and she latched onto Jon's words like a woman drowing. When Sasha ducked away from conversation with Tim and Martin, Jon was at her elbow, whispering in her ear. When she eyed Tim with distrust, he could feel Jon's gaze burning into the back of head. When she continued to pull away from anyone who could anchor her to reality, Jon was right there, pulling her along.

Jon's breathing was becoming laboured. Tim pressed more weight against his chest, egged on by the slight give of Jon's ribcage under his forearms.

"Kill me," Jon choked out. Tim lurched back a step, allowing Jon to take a deep breath that left him with a dry cough. His grin split his pockmarked cheeks, "Kill me, right now. Get it over with. That is what you want, isn't it?"

"You're sick," Tim spat. He pushed against Jon until he wheezed, "You're a sick little creep and I- I want you gone. Leave the Institute. Run into traffic. Anything, just- just get out." Jon's beaming smile wavered, eyes fluttering as consiousness was squeezed out of him, "If I ever see your face again-"

"Tim!"

Tim startled, dropping Jon's collar and letting him crumple to the floor. The anger drained out of him instantly, leaving a hollow in its wake.

He stared down at the man at his feet; Jon's narrow back was shaking.

Shaking with laughter.

Jon's boney shoulders jumped up and down, breathless snickering wracking his entire frame.

He peered up at Tim through spidery bangs. As if on strings, his lips were pulled into manic smile, eyes alight with joy. Hysterics were carved into every crease of his face.

"You can't. You will never be rid of me." He whispered, voice pitchy with wonder.

Someone pushed Tim aside; he stumbled out of the way without even turning to see which of Jon's victims it was. Red faced anger entered his sight, made fuzzy by the film of haze filling his brain.

Helplessness squeezed like a band around his chest; no one would believe him about Jon. Not Sasha, too paranoid to see the problem right in front of her. Not Martin, who would give and give and give to a monster who could only take. Not Elias, who had let Jon into the Archives in the first place.

"-at is your problem, Tim?! What could /Jon/ have done to-" A tinny voice buzzed beneath the rapid gallop of Tim's heart.

Jon was right– Tim couldn't do anything. Nothing would keep Jon from weaving his web around all of them; all he could do now was watch as the threads tightened and tightened until they each snapped under the tension.

Something bumped– shoved his shoulder. Salt and pepper hair left his vision and, instinctually, Tim's eyes traced the monster across the room.

From under Martin's arm, Jon pressed his face into his shoulder. Crocodile tears soaked into the soft, well-worn knit of Martin's favourite jumper. In stark clarity, Tim zeroed in on the hand that raised behind Martin's back.

Jon waved at him slowly and deliberately as he was led gingerly into the breakroom.

[nyashykyunnie]

˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 044 ✦ ┆・

[Tw: I think this fall under depictions of depression and panic attacks. Please, if you're not in the headspace, do not read this. ]

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Muse] ¡! ❞

Isekaing to Solo Leveling is one thing, but living in this world is just... Way too brutal for your poor heart.

Why is that? Anxiety is a major enemy.

What do you mean everyone else is living normally not having little paranoid moments that lead to panic attacks with overtaking at the possibility of a gate opening somewhere near you and monsters would come out?

Sung Jinah's school wasn't even safe. How are you gonna live?

Anyway.

You have a job to do.

Even though you just wanna spend all of your time crying in the corner of your room and praying to god to protect you when technically you aren't even religious.

But what are you to do?

It's not like Sung Jinwoo will swoop in and save you from misery.

...Hahah, if only.

You are one of his more delulu fans, like every other girl in this country— You are a big fan.

Well, except the fact that you know far more things about Jinwoo since you came from a world where he is fiction.

The flex you have is that you know how awfully adorable that petty bastard is when he was still an E-ranker. Those Jinwoo simps will never know the fact that Jinwoo has the fluffiest and softest looking cheeks ever.

Not to mention, you have all of his powers memorized to even the titles those powers have. You can name a lot of his shadows.

Of course the easiest to name are Beru, Igris, Bellion, Kaisel, Tank,.... And the easiest,... One, two, three, four.... Yeah, you get it.

But why are you being so smug? As if you 're not the same fool who secretly buys Jinwoo polaroids. Coming from this country full of fangirls is a haven for you since there is quite... The plethora of Jinwoo trinkets.

And you, being a lovestruck fool, went all in and took "Take all my money" to the next level even though the man you're obsessing over is 10x more richer than you.

But ah, this isn't the time to fawn over your Jinwoo merch paradise.

You have work.

Thankfully enough, this world has given you mercy. Despite it preying on your paranoid self, it gave you the blessing of living the life you've always wanted.

And that is to be a freelance artist.

Not doing your average 9-5, crying about the lack of fame you receive that hinders the pathway to making a successful art career, not having to listen to family members berating your love for art as low as a drug abuse.

In this world, no one is going off about your craft, no one is belittling your passion to something akin to a crime.

Like it's just a pathetic hobby and there's no meaning to all the hard work you put in the past years improving your skills, there's no value to being able to draw squares and circles more impressive than others, there's nothing note worthy of being able to pick and choose colours— There's none of that.

To be honest, there was even lots of moments where you wanted to give up, where you realized maybe they're right.

Even if you had starved yourself just to save up for your art materials, even if you work hard micro-analyzing your artstyle, even if you spent hours studying the algorithms, even if you shed blood sweat and tears just for the glimmer of hope that maybe you can turn your art into something more— It's all just delusions.

Like how you hope to be one of those big artists who inspire other people to create their own pieces. Like how you secretly hope that maybe your artworks can bring a smile to anyone's face if they come across it. Like how you silently pray to every single star that may your wish come true.

You wanted to keep hoping, for the slim chance of having a single magnus opus that will instantly put you in the limelight— You wanted to keep having your hand outstretched to that tiny light.

But everyday, with each piece, you start to realize that your dreams are all for nothing.

You had been so focused on art that it's the only thing you have that defines who you are as a person and as an individual.

Art is what made you human.

Slowly, your innocent dreams molded itself into a twisted and vile poison that ate you from the inside out. Your love for creating backfired and now it's a blur if your passion stems from adoration or you just ran with it because it's the only thing that made you feel relevant in this world.

Maybe you should give up.

Even if there is a drastic improvement in your art with each piece, what good is it if it can't guarantee that career you oh so desperately want? The big artists say that you should make art for yourself, well yeah, they're right. But what if even if you do that it doesn't work?

Colour theory, shape language, line language, composition— All of those improved out of sheer love to learn. You've seen other people around you get careers out of it so it will happen to you?

Right?...

Right?

You're not a problematic artist, you don't make trouble, you don't make enemies, you don't participate in drama, you stay humble and eloquent.

Surely it will work... Right?...

Hahah.

In that world?

No it didn't.

It did not.

You died in your deathbed after being involved in a hit and run.

And after a long period of slumber, you have awoken in this world where somehow you are a renowned artist.

It felt shallow, really.

Suddenly having all of that in a snap of a finger through death?

Hah.

It felt like it mirrors Jinwoo's life. Except he had rightfully earned the flory of his powers.

Truthfully, you love him because of that.

What was it?

Ah yes.

"Because I was rock bottom, I longed for the highest peak."

That was the line that made you love him.

As someone who had no future in your art career, it was that line that made your heart yearn for him.

Two unfortunate souls who struggle in the same thing in different dimensions, except one managed to create that dream into reality.

Sure, you have the glory now. And although it made you so happy, it still felt so shallow because you didn't achieve this through hardwork. You just had to die.

You had to be dead.

It took dying to be given the mercy of having your dreams be granted.

And that just made you feel so... So awful.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

With a canvas on one hand, your painting materials neatly arranged in a bag in the other hand— You take a deep breath and enter the party.

Brilliant golden lights twinkle above your head coming from the magnificent chandelier hanging above. Cameras flashing, the clinking of glasses as hunters and celebrities discussed amongst themselves dressed in luxurious outfits and blinging jewelry.

The sight made your stomach sink and a lump in your throat forming.

This is an entirely different world you knew from the lonely greys and blues.

You look around frantically, almost panicking at the overwhelming chatter and blinding lights.

"Ah, you're here" A voice snaps you out of it.

You turn to see your sponsor, Choi Jong-in flashing a polite and handsome smile. You bow your head politely.

"Please," Jong-in simply shakes his head, "No need to be so polite. I am pleased that you have arrived in time. Champagne?"

He extends a glass towards you and you shake your head, sheepishly saying "O-oh... I'm not really an alcohol enjoyer. I'm fine."

"Ah, I see" He nods apologetically before gesturing you to a clearer space.

Jong-in escorts you to a less crowded area of the ball, the lessened crowd and noise calming your accelerated heartbeat down.

"If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me or the waiters" He says kindly, "You are also free to eat food."

"Thank you, Mr. Choi" You bow politely.

Before he could even reply, Jong-in was called over by a beautiful blonde girl you knew all too well.

Cha Hae-in.

She's as lovely as she was in the manhwa panels, with that red dress and her neatly tied hair— She was a sight to behold.

But as soon as you see a tall man clad in black, you feel a distinct thump in your heart, a twisting kind of small pain that made you feel like it stopped beating along with the way your lungs stopped breathing— You knew who it was.

"A guest?..." He inquires, making your heart thump even harder at the sound of that deep voice you only heard through the speakers of your phone and laptop.

"Mr. Sung, I'm glad you could make it along with my vice master" Jong-in hums, "This is an artist I'm sponsoring, I thought it would be a good idea to commemorate this important event celebrating humanity's win against the gates"

"Ah, I see" Jinwoo's handsome grey eyes would sweep onto your anxious form who is fidgeting uncontrollably in her hands. "I'm Sung Jinwoo,"

He extends a hand, making you look up at him with an even nervous look. It took you a while to extend your hand, and the moment your palm touched his— You felt as of you're touching someone from a different species. Something too unreal and dovine.

You barely had even managed to speak your name out with how much of a nervous wreck you are. Shaking his hand didn't happen if it weren't for Jinwoo gently doing it and letting you pull your hand away.

Your palms may have been trembling, but now it's even more erratic as you step back, not meeting his gaze.

Thank gods Jong-in decided to start a conversation to pivot Jinwoo's attention away from you.

As you attempt to calm yourself with a persistent panic attack, you feel a soft tap on your hands.

"Thank you for coming, I-I hope you enjoy your time" Hae-in says in her hesitant voice.

And you, who cant mutter a single word after your very first encounter with Jinwoo— Only muster a polite nod at her as she turns away to join Jong-in and Jinwoo in their conversation.

You were on a trance for almost five minutes, before finally deciding to set up your easel and canvas. You took out two different mason jars and filling them up with water; the gouache paint you will be using as a medium; the ceramic palette you have been using for quite a while now; and finally gently arranging your brushes.

Jong-in didn't specify what you should be painting for this event. But decided to paint the stage. An hour into the event, Jinwoo would start giving his speech as he is the main hero of the war against the gates and monarchs—As well as the person this whole event is dedicated to.

You had to pause in your process of painting the canvas, just to give respect to Jinwoo.

Your idol.

Your role model.

The man of your dreams.

His words aren't even registering as you can't help but be lost in a trance as he continues with his speech. Unconsciously, your hand raised itself and started to paint carefully, your eyes fixated on the hunter as your hand moved with a mind on its own.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jong-in was extremely worried for the artist he had hired, he could tell from earlier she was having a panic attack with the hesitance. And when Jinwoo came into the picture, it seemed to frighten her all the more. He quietly called for his secretary to add at least 40% more of the initial payment that was planned to compensate for the unintentional distress he had put her onto.

While Jinwoo was giving his speech, he couldn't help but check on her by glancing from the distance.

In that canvas, he saw the stage, and in that stage was Jinwoo.

The artist was carefully painting Jinwoo.

Delicate strokes despite her eyes not on the cloth and brush. She was just mindlessly moving her hand as she looks at Jinwoo.

"Ah... I see it now."

Jong-in quietly smiles to himself.

It wasn't that she was frightened of Jinwoo's intimidating presence. No way does someone scared of a person have that same intense look with such dilated pupils.

With a determined hum, Jong-in knew exactly what to do.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

It had been three days since that event, and Jinwoo was attending to paperwork when he was informed of Jong-in's visit.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bit of worry that his 'senior' might scold him for renting out gates in territory of Hunter's guild.

To his surprise, Jong-in entered carrying a rather large thing into his office.

"???" Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, silently inquiring Jong-in at what is the thing he brought in.

"Take a look, hunter Sung" Jong-in simply says and the hunter reluctantly stood up from his chair to approach the item his senior placed down.

When Jinwoo pulled off the protective cloth, he was met with a brilliant painting that felt like it was straight out of a renaissance era painting.

The red curtains were blood red and shaded softly. The wood is delicately painted, with even tiny specks that indicates the painter's exquisite attention to detail, but most importantly— His eyes were drawn to the middle, where a man stood center.

It was him.

His face was delicately painted, even his tousled black locks were intricately painted to imitate the way his strands behaved, his body language was painted in a relaxed but still managed to somehow translate the undertone of authority and power he held over the crowd that was purposely painted in a blurry manner to give more focus to him. Even the lighting of the stage was expertly imitated on the canvas.

The piece looked as if its goal was to put emphasis on his—the man who is standing in the golden limelight. As if it were trying to put him on a divine pedestal, to show him off as this some sort of god woth the painting.

"Who?..." Jinwoo finally manages to inquire.

"The artist chose you as her muse for the painting" Jong-in says, fixing his tie as he does so. "Quite the talent, no? Even us hunters who have quite the skill in the art of combat, are taken aback by such craft. It was as if she had magic on her very fingertips despite being just a civilian."

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats, not knowing what to feel about it.

"It would be... Quite indecent of me to keep a portrait of a rival in my guild, no?" Jong-in coughs out, making Jinwoo awkwardly nod. "Consider it as a gift and a thank you for assisting my guild in jeju raid as well as your role in the war."

"I have quite the awards really, no need" He shakes his head.

"Yes," Jong-in glances back at the painting. "But I think that you, as the painter's muse, must see for yourself this piece created on your image."

"Mn...."

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Jinwoo quite frankly grew curious of the little painter he met and made him the centerpiece of her painting. He was honestly worried at first, she was so small compared to him and she was trembling at the sight of him. It didn't help that he noticed how she grew more shaken after they exchanged pleasantries.

Maybe he had gripped her hand a little too much.

Beru on the other hand, was visibly very pleased at the painting as well as the other shadows who wont shut up about it.

Throughout his monotonous days and hours, Jinwoo would often think of the painter.

It feels... Weird to be in someone's painting.

It's unreal even.

But ah... By chance, he met that pleasant little painter again.

She was in the bookstore, picking up several heavy books. When he approached her, she was flustered and nearly dropped the books she was purchasing if it weren't for him assisting her.

Just like their first meeting, she was clearly bashful and anxious. So Jinwoo made space between them and made small talk.

Somehow, their small talks would develop into long and meaningful ones with the days passing of them having frequent encounters.

There is this tiny, tiny warmth in Jinwoo's heart whenever he finds himself in the presence of his painter.

His heart whom he thought had lost its capability to harbor affection— Is beating fast whenever he crosses paths with her.

There is... Something about her.

Her little habits, her never ending curiosity, her childish habits and her love for everything beautiful. Somehow, everything in her eyes has the potential to be a piece of artwork.

Jinwoo was never a creative soul, he's only ever creative at insults maybe.

So to see someone so dedicated to her own craft, to see someone so full of love for something... It's like peering into a different world he never thought was there.

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

Go Gunhee decided to visit Jinwoo, it was to thank the hunter again with coffee beans and two— Just to visit Jinwoo.

"Ah, hunter Sung," Gunhee smiles as the person he waited for appears. "I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to pop in"

"Not at all, director" Jinwoo smiles politely.

"That piece," The old man's gaze drifts to a painting hun by Jinwoo's side. "What a magnificent work of art. I heard Hunter Choi gifted it to you after the artist he hired decided to put you as the centerpiece. Truly such remarkable talent by a younger lady."

"Yes, hahah" Jinwoo awkwardly rubs his nape.as he serves Gunhee a cup of tea.

"My father told me that artists have a special kind of love" Gunhee hums, reminiscing. "He told me that having an artist love you is different. A writer glorifies you into pleasant words, a musician translates your beauty into compelling music and a painter immortalises all of you in a single painting. A blank canvas is a tool by painters that they use to communicate. All the ugliness of the world can be put into ink, and all the beauty into wonderful pops of pleasant colors"

He continues, "And through my years, this is one of the few most magnificent pieces I've ever seen that shows the painter's love for it's muse"

"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats it, "I've been told the same thing."

"A lovely feeling, no?" Gunhee chuckles, "To be loved by a person so full of love."

"...So that's what it means"

"..."

The old man's face wrinkles into a happier smile.

Young love, truly beautiful, isn't it?

⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪

"That colour is really pretty" You mutter absentmindedly glance at the flowing water underneath, as if trying to ingrain the memory and behaviour of it.

"Thinking of a new artwork, again?" Jinwoo asks, glancing down at the direction you were staring at. "I can't wait to see what you'll make."

"Your pieces are always so beautiful"

It felt as if something struck an arrow at your heart, you glance at Jinwoo— Completely frozen in state.

When he noticed the heavy silence, his eyes would befall on you before his mouth going a little agape.

You're crying.

"Did... I say something wrong?..." Jinwoo asks and you panic, immediately tearing your gaze away.

"No, no, no" You shake your head, hiding your shameful tears from Jinwoo.

Compliments with your art were never really foreign, but you, being the insecure sad soppy excuse of a human being would always downplay it most of the time.

You were never truly satisfied with yourself and anything you ever made. Mostly because you came from a household where everything is never enough.

Ultimately, that system has been fully ingrained into your body that it became your personality.

Colors are muddy, the lines aren't steady or too thick or thin, the anatomy is off, the composition isn't fluid and the harmony is all over the place.

You were always, always, critical of yourself.

Nothing is ever enough.

Your works aren't beautiful enough, and you thought they never will be.

But when Jinwoo told you your art was beautiful, it caused something to crack inside and burst open.

Maybe it's because you loved him so much. Maybe it's because he is the person you admire the most in your sorry, lonely life.

It was always Jinwoo who was in your mind whenever you had those bad episodes of just having silent mental breakdowns.

It's his image that became your most beloved saviour.

Perhaps you're sobbing because you're finally able to hear the words you've imagined he would during the times you daydreamed about him.

Or maybe... Your body reacted because you knew deep down that Jinwoo was never a liar.

That he didn't say those words out of empty praise, that he said your crafts is beautiful because they simply are.

In your broken, shattered heart a heavy yet soft warmth swelled. Swelling so much that you felt so overwhelmed and couldn't control your emotions.

That kind of validation just felt like it washed away all the doubts that plagued you for years.

As you cried uncontrollably, Jinwoo would instinctively reach his hand out and pull you in for a searing kiss. His tongue gently nudges your lips before shoving itself into it.

One flick.

Two flicks

Three flicks,...

Until you yourself cant even count it anymore.

He pulls back slowly, but still not far enough for you not to feel his hot breath fanning over your cheeks.

"I only said your paintings are beautiful and yet you are crying like this, sarang?" He rubs his nose against yours, "Just what happened to you that you're this emotional, hm? Did you not think what you make is stunning? Did you never once think that your pieces are captivating? Why are you crying like this? How hurt have you been that it feels like you're crying out this kind of sorrow I can't seem to understand?"

"Why does your sobs feel like you've been dealing with such loneliness that a simple sincere compliment breaks you to this extend?"

"Everything about you is beautiful. All of you is beautiful." Jinwoo says in that ever so gentle voice of his, "Never doubt that for even a single second."

꒰ 🪼 A/N: what started as another simple fluffy idea turned into something more... Personal :'DD. Sorry guys hahahahsheshdg. Idk when I will have the free time to make the second half of the cai bots yet but please look out for when I do. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧･ﾟ: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[monalisahyperdrive]

Primarch names from least moanable to the most moanable - entirely subjective.

Factors taken into account:

Name length

How easy it is to say

General vibes ('imagine having sex with a guy and having to moan gilbert')

I wrote this instead of sleeping. I don't know either. This is getting posted and I will probably never address it again if I don't delete it during my break tomorrow. I should not be given internet access past 11pm.

Perturabo

It pained me to put him all the way down (up?) here at the least moanable as I fear he may actually be one of my favourites, however... I am not delusional enough to ignore that not only is this a pretty long name, a good amount of people struggle not only to say it but to even spell it. Not at all dyslexia friendly. I would give it a good go but I feel like in order to enjoy yourself you kind of have to accept you will be calling him 'Perty' or 'Bo' or whatever you prefer.

Sanguinius

Sanguinius fans please spare me but this is a long ass name at 3? 4? syllables. I don't even know what you could call him for short instead. However, I don't doubt that it's entirely possible, I just think it would take a while to stop stuttering through.

Mortarion

Another long name. Are you sensing a pattern yet? I am. More moanable due to having less vowels than Sanguinius and less harsher (?) consonants like in Perturabo. Pretty middle of the road, easy to pronounce, could probably be easier if you just start calling him 'Morty' instead.

Alpharius / Omegon

Alpharius is again another longer name that I feel like I would trip over for a good couple weeks. I am NOT shorting it to Alpha. I must maintain my dignity, whatever crumbs of it remain. Omegon is an easier name - likely due to it having less syllables (3 rather than 4). However, I feel like the only way to shorten it would be 'Meg' and that would make me laugh and I would get distracted. Remember how I said this is subjective? This is why.

Jaghatai

3 syllables, easy enough to say, not a lot of vowels or harsher consonants to trip over. Incredibly doable, and I'm sure many have tried it. Hell, I'd certainly take a good stab at it.

Angron

Harsh G right in the middle, otherwise no complaints really. 2 syllables. Straight forward. You could certainly give it a good go.

Rogal

2 syllables - easy right? Wrong. Evil G right there in the middle again. Probably would have been higher (lower?) on the list if it was softened with maybe an H right after. Alas, it is not so.

Corvus

2 incredibly easy syllables. The V is a little evil (harsh) but with a relatively short name and a soft starting consonant I'm sure it's manageable. Best bird boy. Not much else to say.

Fulgrim

Although apparently a good chunk of people have given it a go - or at least his wives have - we're back to the G dilemma. Personally I'd suggest calling him 'Fulgie' - like Fergie but worse.

Konrad

Quite possibly the most normal name on the whole list. Konrad. Everyone can say Konrad. An easy two syllables with the harshest letter right at the start. Easy peasy.

Roboute

I actually don't know if this is 2 syllables or 3. I even went and looked on Reddit. Some people are saying Ro-Bou-Te, I've been reading it Ro-Boot. Either way these are easy, with the harshest sound being the T of all things. Either way I don't think moaning for poor long suffering Robert is too tricky.

Vulkan

Deceptively soft V and K. What a pleasant surprise. Anyone could moan this easily, and he'd probably be delighted.

Lion

Objectively this is incredibly easy, which is why it made it so high (low?) on the scale. However, I would argue moaning 'Lion' in full sincerity is somewhat hilarious. That sure is the name of an incredibly powerful (and unfortunately incredibly sexy) man.

Magnus

Easy to moan. Probably wouldn't mind if you gave it a go. Again, one of the easier names. I'm sure he'd be happy to tutor you on the subject.

Lorgar

Flows nicely, 2 short syllables, incredibly straight forward. Started mentally calling him 'Lorgie', never recovered.

Ferrus

Incredibly straight forward name. Ferrus, pronounced the same as Ferrous, like the iron tablets. Something something you should do it, it's medicinal.

Leman

Not at the top due to the time it took to decide whether it was Lee-man or Le-man (like lemon). Personal gripe, but if you've gotten this far down without understanding that I don't know what to tell you. Quick, easy, sure why not.

Horus

As much as I wish to be deeply spiteful and shove him somewhere unremarkable in the middle, I just can't do it. This is an easy name. Don't worry, if you struggle at all I'm sure he'd be willing to let you keep trying until you figure it out. Bastard.

[brettanomycroft]

Sam fumbled Gwen’s Bonzo reveal… but he’d been primed to do so

I suspect that there's going to be a LOT of conversation around Sam after this episode, and since this episode was so good that I couldn't think of a meme or shitpost, I decided I'd throw my hat into the ring and do some character analysis instead. CW: Spoilers for The Magnus Protocol episode 18, "Solo Work" under the cut.

Episode 18 finally gave us the Sam and Gwen interaction I (and I think a lot of others) have been so desperate to finally see, and boy oh boy do I have Thoughts… none of which are new per se, but Sam’s reaction to Gwen dropping the Bonzo Bomb seems to have reinforced  the way I’ve been reading (and projecting in fanfiction oops) Sam, his personality, and his motivations.

Out of everyone new we’ve been introduced to so far, Sam has by far gotten the most explicit development and conversation around his personality. Even before episode 1, folks who participated in the ARG got a preview of our favorite baby shrimp’s personality through access to the child database spreadsheet that was, presumably, used to document the results of the experiments run on children participating in The Magnus Institute’s “gifted and talented program.” From this spreadsheet, we can gather that Baby Sam is logical, empathetic, works towards the benefit of others (prosocial), and fair… but also a rule follower and highly willing to follow the lead of an authority figure, even if it is in conflict with his personal views. The picture this information paints is an interesting one, but when taken in a vacuum leaves us with an impression of Sam as someone who is kind but lacking in backbone.

This idea of Sam as “kind but lacking in backbone” is further reinforced in canon, as Alice of multiple occasions rags on him for being “noodly” and “ickle fawn” and a “baby shrimp,” all seeming to highlight that Sam has the sort of helplessness about him typically ascribed to sopping wet kittens and baby birds. And I think that if we view Sam’s outburst when Gwen brings up Bonzo through this lens alone, it’s going to seem WAY out of character for him and a downright cruel response.

Now while I do believe that Sam is empathetic and fair and, sometimes, a little helpless, I’ve been inclined to believe from early on that much of Sam’s affable self-deprecation is a way to cover or soften what can be, at times, a tendency to be hard-headed, temperamental, a little manipulative, and petty (and I’m totally not just saying that as a people-pleaser-and-gifted-kid-in-recovery who has been projecting hard on Sam since Day 1). And it’s this second batch of personality traits, the ones that make Sam so real and interesting to me, that I think set up the disaster of a conversation between Sam and Gwen.

We have definitely seen hints of Sam’s hard-headedness and manipulative leanings in previous episodes: it comes out most often around Alice, showing his stubbornness in the form of refusing to give up his lines of questioning and curiosity about what is happening in the cases and at the OIAR; and revealing his willingness to manipulate a situation the form of subtly redirecting Alice’s focus away from prying into his crush on Celia and during the mocha incident (I have, of course, already explored Sam’s manipulative tendencies in my totally comprehensive shitpost).

And we’ve even been shown at times before episode 18 where Sam can be petty, his buzzed insistence that Alice try and keep things “professional” at work after his date with Celia being at the top of the list. The case headers filed for “Putting Down Roots” and “Pet Project” also suggest to me Sam’s ability to be stubborn and petty: in both instances, Alice and Gwen suggest a different classification than the one that Sam ultimately files. In the case of Gwen in “Pet Project,” she’s dismissive of him when he tries to ask if she’s all right.

While there’s no way to know for sure, I interpret this interaction as part of the reason why Sam ultimately disregarded Gwen’s suggestion for how to file the case—she shut him down and shut him out, and the petty part of his heart couldn’t resist ignoring her recommendation out of spite. This scene also begins to lay the foundations for Sam and Gwen’s interactions in episode 18 and, I suspect, the rest of the season.

So with all of this in mind, let’s look at episode 18. When Gwen emerges from Lena’s office, Alice has just finished shutting Sam down, again. Throughout most of this season, Sam has been desperate for some validation that the cases they are listening to are real, that whatever happened to him at The Magnus Institute was real, and that him pursuing this line of questioning and wanting to find answers isn’t a waste of his time. Alice has, of course, been not-so-gently nudging him away from this line of thinking for most of the season, while Gwen has been icing him out about it up until this point. Just about the only one who has given his questioning any air has been Celia who is, conveniently, not there. Even after Alice has her very own supernatural experience that is reaffirmed in the case Sam receives, she strongly pushes back on his idea that they should investigate and pursue this further. He understands why she doesn’t want to learn more, but it’s clear that he’s still frustrated at the end of the conversation.

Enter Gwen. Here, for the first time, it seems like she’s opening up about what is going on at the OIAR, and Sam is immediately hooked, even dropping his softer and sympathetic side when Alice tries to redirect with one of her classic barbs.

After being shut down time and time again, Sam is so eager for confirmation that there is more to all of this than meets the eye. And then Gwen says the B-word, and Sam loses it.

Sam is laughing here, but honestly? I think he’s angry, and his reaction is one of complete disbelief that Gwen would set him up like this just to, in his mind, take the piss out of him. He thinks that, at best, Gwen is having a breakdown and he’s once again being shut out or, at worst, Gwen is making a joke at his expense. Now, he’s used to being the butt of a joke thanks to being friends with Alice, but despite that we’ve never heard him call her an asshole the way he does Gwen. Temperamental and petty, turning around his hurt and anger over being stonewalled again and again to lash out at Gwen with his joke.

And honestly, can you blame him? (I can’t.)

Of course this wasn’t the ideal reaction. I have been waiting for Sam and Gwen to have a serious heart-to-heart about what’s going on forever, and Sam pretty much blew that chance without even realizing it. And I would be surprised if we get an apology out of him anytime soon, not only because this interaction is likely to push Gwen away from wanting to even be around Sam, but also because he’s not going to believe that Gwen wasn’t making fun of him or that Gwen isn’t having a delusional breakdown until he sees Mr. Bonzo with his own two eyes.

I also think this conversation would have gone very differently had Celia been there instead of Alice. Sam’s slew of psychological testing suggests he’s willing to follow the leader, and in this case he doesn’t seem immune to Alice’s general dismissiveness of Gwen. He may have even been primed to lash out at Gwen in this moment because Alice is constantly ragging on her; chameleon-like, he’ll take on the shade of the strongest personality when he’s on uncertain or dangerous footing. It’s almost a guarantee that Celia would have taken Gwen seriously, not only because she’s likely from or connected to the TMA-verse of horrors, but also because it was Celia who received the first Mr. Bonzo case. And had Celia been there to temper the disbelief, Sam would have absolutely been ready to hear Gwen out in full. I honestly cannot wait for Celia to be back in office; she’s going to walk in to these new, rancid office vibes like Troy from Community walking into the whole room on fire while casually carrying the pizza.

So, what do I think this means for the rest of the season? Well, the title of this episode seems telling: Solo Work. Gwen and Sam’s respective desires for their experiences to be validated and their goals to be taken seriously paired with the seeming dismissiveness of those around them are going to push them along their separate paths, dangerously alone. And I suspect that it is only going to be Celia or, more likely, an encounter with Bonzo, that is going to put them back on the same path—if it happens at all. Good luck, babes!

[mpchev]

Update on fanbinding dissertation: binding the dissertation itself!

After many days and nights of writing and wrangling footnotes and proofreading (where I couldn't convince my laptop that yes, I meant textualisation, not sexualisation), 'twas time to bind the beasts! In three copies, no less! Which I approached with way too much confidence from my one fanbind experience, and came with many fun little surprises due to the format guidelines I had to follow 🤡

This is going to be a long one, so here's my happy unfocused mug to confirm that it all ends well:

First pickle: The typesetting. I absolutely loved typesetting fanfic, but the dissertation had to be A4 (way less fun, boo-hoo), one-sided, with every page numbered. Did you know that LibreOffice won't let you add blank pages and only number the non-blank ones, without skipping numbers? In order to print signatures I could fold into one-sided pages, only numbered on the right-hand pages, I ended up switching to landscape orientation and including the equivalent of a blank page in the left margin.

Second pickle: The imposing, which I couldn't figure out using the amazing bookbinder with my weird landscape 2-page layout. I finally gave in and rearranged all the pages manually, which looked like p. 1 on the recto / p. 10 on the verso, then p2/p9, p3/p8, p4/p7, p5/p8, p6/p7. And because there was no way I was paying print-in-colour prices for all of this, I further split the manually imposed pages into two files, one for the greyscale printer (cheaper) and one for the colour printer (highway robbery). Still came up to ~£70, just for printing.

Very glad I went in chunks of 10 for the signatures, it made both the math and the folding using sheets from two different piles much easier, highly recommend (if for some absurd reason you also want to bind one-sided numbered pages in folded signatures).

Third pickle: Linear time. Had planned on having so much time to print and bind this thing, but kept writing and rewriting and proofing and oops! It was due in less than 24 hours and it was still not out of the laptop. So.

22/09/24, 6pm: Got to the library, started printing.

6.45pm: Found another printer where all the paper was the same shade of white, started printing again 🤦‍♂️ (kept the the misprints to use as scrap paper when glueing)

7.30pm: Started folding the 150 sheets of paper (3 x 100-page dissertation, 2 pages per sheet). Went from the last episode of The Magnus Protocol, to an episode of Welcome to Night Vale, to deciding restart The Magnus Archive, which felt almost poetic.

9pm: Headed back home, trimmed the edges (with a borrowed guillotine), folded the endpapers, stabbed everything. Lack of pictures to be blamed on my inability to mess with linear time, and the eventual sleep deprivation.

10.30pm, I think? Started sewing the signatures together, again with Supernatural (which I started rewatching when I submitted my first dissertation assignment in mid-May, and finished 2 days after submitting the dissertation itself, again, such poetry).

2am, probably? Tipped the endpapers and glued cheesecloth over the spines. Somehow figured out where to set the three textblocks to dry (I don't have a press). Sadly gave up on sewing on (or glueing) headbands, because time.

3am-ish: Cut the missing cover pieces out of millboard (had already cut 4 of 6 covers, since I knew it had to be A4), measured the spines of the three textblocks and cut those as well.

???am: Did some math, because sure, that's the right time for that. Cut the bookcloth to size, glued the cover pieces on the bookcloth. Remarkably only messed up the measurements on one of them! That means one of the copies has a millimetre of millboard showing in the inside corners of the back cover, but not enough time/bookcloth/millboard to redo it, onward we go!

Way past dawn: Took a break for food while the covers somewhat dried. Cased the three textblocks in the three covers, with the endpapers bubbling, which took me by surprise since it was the same paper and same glue I had used for the fanbind without any problem. I'm now thinking that bigger book = more time needed to apply the glue = endpapers getting warped, but I was so exhausted by this point that who knows. Again, no time to redo it!

9.30am: Stacked the dissertations under the heavy reference books I used to write the dissertation. Toute est dans toute hein. Went to bed while they (mostly) dried.

2.30pm: Woken up by my neighbour's dj set. Eventually put all that hard work in a tote and walked to school to hand it in at 4.30pm.

Fourth and last pickle: The titling. Couldn't find paper long enough to do a half-dust jacket like I did last time. Had big cutout plans, ran out of time and couldn't finish testing those. Also had some thicker textured paper I thought of cutting and glueing to the cover as a title card, but it turned out too thin and was warping. Finally resigned myself to submitting it with a blank cover, but one of my teachers asked if I would mind adding the title on with metallic markers to make it easier to identify (one copy will eventually be on the shelf at the Institute), and I'm SO HAPPY with how it turned out. Metallic markers. Why didn't I think of that. (I did, however, think about dressing appropriately for the occasion.)

So, is it possible to print and bind 3 books in less than 24 hours? Yes! Am I glad I did it? Also yes, very satisfying, love being extra! Would I do it again? God no, I've been sleeping for two weeks and I still haven't recovered. Can't wait to start binding something else though, so I guess it wasn't that bad.

That's it! That's over! Aaaaaah! Now waiting for the grade and comments, and hopefully soon I'll be able to share the content as well.

I'll also try to post some more about the research/writing process itself, somewhere between the late nights reading international treaties on income tax and the early mornings spent figuring out how to apply for a phd next.

Thank you so much to everyone who followed along, this was way more fun than I ever could have hoped!

[pinkanonwrites]

Handle with Care

Rodimus has finally been allowed to bring you into a meeting to hopefully curb some of his rampant fidgeting problems. It ends up having unforeseen consequences.

First Contact AU! Rodimus/Human Reader

NSFW, DUB-CON, Accidental Stimulation, Rodmius has ADHD and you can pry that fact out of my cold dead hands

(Since this is a First Contact AU Rodimus uses Cybertronian words for body parts instead of human ones for you, but the Reader is a human!)

Rodimus knew he always did his best thinking when he had something to do with his servos. As insistent as Ultra Magnus was that his endless tapping, bouncing, and desk-carving was simply "an untapped well of craving for mayhem", Rodimus knew that having even a little something to fiddle with would make those endless, droning safety meetings into something just barely bordering on tolerable.

And since Ultra Magnus was also sick of his relentless desk vandalism, he finally gave the begrudging all-clear for Rodimus to bring his favorite organic to the meeting room.

"They can remain so long as they are not a distraction." With his soft little buddy cupped carefully in his servos, not even Ultra Magnus's stern words could sway his captain's notable enthusiasm.

"You say that as if they could be any more distracting than the bot carrying them." Megatron added.

"You worry too much! We'll be quieter than moon mice, right bud?" Rodimus ran a thumb over your soft, fuzz-covered helm as he took his seat. You were sitting comfortably in the center of his right palm, legs dangling over the edge between his digits. He kept his middle and ring digits curled up slightly to keep you from toppling forward, and you'd settled yourself in with your arms folded atop them and your chin resting against the tips of his digits. He gave you another soft stroke to the helm and beamed at the content little chirp you let out in response.

Ultra Magnus cleared his vents. "If we may begin, we have a lot of ground to cover. Starting with the grievous filing system Brainstorm has insisted on using for the weapons bay. It flaunts any Cybertronian standard known to bot and presents a massive safety risk when considering…"

Yeah, if Rodimus hadn't brought you along he'd already be itching for a dagger to start carving caricatures with. Instead his left-servo digits wandered lazily over your helm and shoulders, absentmindedly petting as his processor already started phasing out the dialogue of his second-in-command. Primus, organics really were so soft. Even your little coverings were soft, he noted as he ran a digit tip over the fabric covering your torso. You let out another quiet hum, melting ever further into Rodimus's grip as he patted you.

"And if you think your petition to install turbo-thrusters on your private vehicle was approved, Rodimus, I assure you it was not."

"WHA-?! What's wrong with the turbo thrusters? Brainstorm already approved the prototype!" He sat upright and forward in his seat, left servo cupping around your back to make sure you weren't overly jostled. "And they'll look great on the Rod Pod, too. Already painted and everything."

"We can't have one of our captains blowing himself up meteor surfing just because he wanted a thrill. And must I emphasize the use of the word 'prototype'? Meaning 'unfinished and untested'?"

"What better way to test them than on my ship?" 

"Do you want them listed alphabetically, or by order of safety protocol?"

Rodimus grumbled, a buzzing charge of irritation spiking through his frame. He cupped your back tighter with his servo to make sure you were still settled in as he flumped back into his seat with an overly dramatic ex-vent. The motion pushed your entire soft fore up against his wide digits, and he could feel a shiver course through your small frame. 

"You bored yet?" He murmured, knowing you couldn't fully understand him but also knowing his comments would needle at Ultra Magnus. "Or are you cold? You feel pretty warm." A single digit stroked down the length of your spinal strut and Rodimus startled at the sudden, shaky in-vent you'd failed to stifle. "What was…?"

"Affectionate little organic you've found for yourself, Rodimus." Megatron's comment nearly made Rodimus leap out of his own plating. The taller mech gestured to the way you'd wrapped both of your arms around Rodimus's digits, your cheek pressed against the metal tip of one.

"W-Well yeah! I am their favorite, after all." He asserted, though his free digits kept wandering up and down the expanse of your back. The last thing he wanted was for Megatron and Ultra Magnus to think something was wrong with you. That would just give them more reason to not let him bring you to meetings. No, as soon as he could slip out of here he'd take you to Perceptor himself to get you checked out. Hopefully you could wait it out that long.

But as the meeting progressed Rodimus found that everything that was being said to him was going in one audial processor and straight out the other. He was too focused on your movement, each tiny rock and wriggle. He kept the palm of his other servo pressed against your back to keep you snug and warm, though his own sensors didn't indicate anything out of the norm for your current ambient temperature. Maybe you got bored like he did? Absent-mindedly he began bouncing you in his palm, just barely enough movement to jostle your frame. The dull motion would keep you occupied and keep Rodimus from going stir-crazy with nothing to fiddle with. He was killing two birdbots with one stone!

"...And if we're going to allow Swerve to continue his antics, I must insist that he is at least properly licensed and certified." 

"C'mon! It's good for-!" Rodimus had tried to interject, but before he could he was interrupted by a strangled yelp from his palm. All three bots' optics were drawn to your form as you shuddered in Rodimus's servo, arms and legs squeezing around his digits and your helm hanging over the tips of them, hiding your faceplate from view. Your own little servos pushed pathetically at Rodimus's, trying to shove your fore away from his touch as you whimpered.

"You didn't squash them, did you? Rodimus."

"They don't appear to be harmed. Merely… distressed?"

"No worries everything's fine let's pick this up next cycle sounds good okay BYE!" Rodimus spat out a flurry of placations and excuses as he scrambled to leave, cupping you close to his chest the entire sprint back to his own habsuite. Only once he was over his desk, littered with your various human-sized furniture and items, did he carefully uncup his hands and let you sprawl out across a single palm. You remained lying flat on your back, fore heaving as you vented, helm fluff sticky with your organic-made coolant where it clung to your face. As you made optic contact with him you let out the tiniest, most pathetic whine as your servos flew up to cover your face.

"Rodimus…" Though you couldn't fully understand each other, you had settled on a throaty, metered recreation of his name, doing your best to mimic the mechanical warbles he had used to introduce himself to you. He'd heard you use it a handful of times before, mostly to get his attention. But now? Now you seemed absolutely distraught, whining out the word in a high, flustered pitch through your cupped servos.

"What?! What did I do wrong?" He blinked owlishly down at you, poking ever so gently around your form with a free digit. He prodded at your helm, your shoulders, your chassis… But as his digits trailed down your fore you whimpered, hips jerking pathetically up as he neared your pelvis. You let out another embarrassed squeak, one of your pedes kicking frantically against his digit with a metal 'bang!' to shove it away. 

Oh. Oops.

Rodimus wasn't stupid, he knew that humans didn't have armor plating. Instead you delighted in covering yourself with various colorful fabrics for different occasions and times of day, a freedom of self-design that he both greatly admired and slightly envied.

But Rodimus had never actually considered that no armor really meant no armor. Not even a modesty plate. 

"I'm so sorry!" He hissed, heat rushing to his own faceplate as well. Accidentally making you overload in the middle of a meeting wasn't even on the list of possible ways Rodimus thought things could go wrong, but apparently now it needed to be added. He'd used the vibrating buzz if his digits many a time on other mechs and femmes, but he never intended to use it on you. At least not in that way! Letting you slide oh-so-carefully from his palm and onto the surface of the desk, you continued to languish in your humiliation sprawled out on your back. "I really didn't mean to! I know you don't know what I'm saying but I promise it wasn't on purpose!"

You glanced through your fingers at his faceplate and his apologetic frown, letting out another huff. This one sounded less overwhelmed though, more resigned. You gestured for him to bring a servo closer and he did, only for you to duck your helm under one of his digits and let him pet your soft organic head fluff. 

"You forgive me?" You couldn't understand him but gave him a small, reassuring pat on the palm. "Ahh, thank you! If it's any consolation, I don't think either of them noticed."

But as he carefully stroked your helm with two digits, a teeny tiny part of Rodimus's processor was curious. How hard was it for you to keep quiet? Was the wiggling around from you trying to get away from the stimulation, or chase it? Were you scared, overloading in a room full of giant mechs? Or was there a chance that part of you might have… enjoyed it?

Weird. He was weird. And he was going to file those thoughts away behind a door in his processor to only be opened when he needed things to feel self-deprecating about. Rodimus of Nyon, Captain of the Lost Light, secret fantasizer of human overloads… Yeah, that probably wouldn't go over well.

And yet, Rodimus couldn't help how little he actually minded that.

[transingthoseformers]

Tfa Optimus should absolutely be more than the deceptions can handle. I bet Megatron barely makes out out of that room alive. Blitzwing and Lugnut need medical attention afterward. I bet Ratchet is looking over the scene like "Ahh, I remember those days" because the party ambulance was no different. The only reason Optimus didn't become some sort of urban legend is because Sentinel and Elita-1 put their whole back into preventing it. Troopers frfr.

I think after being imprisoned, Megatron should think about Optimus. That little mech could keep up with him in a fight, sure, that's nice. But completely domming his processor out? He's obsessed. Optimus gave him a new kink, and he can't even explore it because he's in jail.

Make that strong, scary warlord into a wet paper bag in bed. Not because that's how he is, but because that's what Optimus is capable of. Black arachnia and Sentinel sense this happening btw, they're both losing it trying to find him and stop him.

Oof on Lugnut and Blitzwing, damn

It'd be funny if Optimus did become some sort of sex urban legend in the academy I'll admit

Sentinel and Elita are like the opposite of wingmen here, for Optimus's sake

Megatron, who is bored out of his mind in his cell:

Megatron, when it starts to hit him: oh

Megatron: OHHHH

This is gonna create such a fun dynamic after the decepticons break out

You know this puts an interesting twist on some of Sentinel and Elita/Blackarachnia's interactions with Optimus (plus of course the canon stuff of course)

Blackarachnia: I sense a disturbance in the force /ref

Sentinel Magnus: something just happened; why do I feel like it's Optimus's fault

[lets-try-some-writing]

I woke up and chose angsty violence on everyone.

What if Optimus survived the events of Predacon Rising? Sometime after everyone left, he crawled up from the Well but was no longer the same person he was. Housing the Allspark inside himself had destroyed his mind than just the Matrix of Leadership and what's left is a very feral bot that looks like Optimus.

No one finds out until reports from refugees come in about a strange Cybertronian running amuck in the wastes that attacks anyone who gets too close. Optimus' former team would absolutely be split on what to do about him. Leave him alone in nature under protection, try to snap him out of it or put their once leader down?

They can't ignore the problem as someone will recognize Optimus at some point.

You. You my good individual are evil. I adore your twisted little mind (affectionate).

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

There were... reports. Quite a few of them in fact.

Each and every one of them claimed that there was a feral mech living out in the wastes, the land that was formerly Iacon's great forest before the war razed it to the ground. No one knew what to think of it, but then they saw the pictures. And those pictures changed everything.

"Ratchet, he can't seriously still be alive? Can he?" Bumblebee's voice was filled with disbelief as Ratchet looked over the image projected on the holodisk. The rest of the table seemed to share Bumblebee's thoughts as they watched. It was a quick series of pictures put on a slideshow. They were grainy, but the blue and red was unmistakable. The exposed Matrix even more so.

"It seems that we were wrong to label Prime as out for the count." Bulkhead added his two shanix, earning him a murmur of agreement from an equally uncertain Wheeljack.

"If he's feral, do you think we can bring back?" Arcee spoke up as well, earning a series of comments from the team. Bumblebee seemed hopeful, as did Smokescreen. Even Ultra Magnus seemed marginally interested in a potential plan to help Optimus if he really was out there.

Ratchet was not so optimistic.

"I will go and assess the situation personally. For all we know, it might not be him. We can't get our hopes up." Standing up, Ratchet collected the holodisk with a purposefully blank expression. The team regarded him with various expression of surprise, but they didn't stop him.

Good. They didn't need to see what was going to come next.

"Ratchet, if it is him, you'll let us know." Ultra Magnus put a servo on his shoulder, a knowing expression plastered all over the Commander's face. Ratchet gave no confirmation, instead tightening his grip on the holodisk as he made his way out.

Ratchet couldn't explain it, but when he saw the photo, he couldn't help the feeling of wrongness that filled his very spark. The team wouldn't understand. They hadn't known Orion. All they saw was their Prime's face. They didn't see the vacancy in his optics or the way he hunched in the picture like he was struggling just to stand. The mech they once knew was not himself. He was hardly alive.

Ratchet refused to let his friend's legacy be destroyed by a cruel twist of fate.

"I'm sorry." He murmured into the early morning light as he gathered his things quietly, taking great care with his most important tool as he began the trip out into the wastes. It was not a long trip, not terribly so at any rate. A few joors into his journey, he found himself wandering the wastes in silence, his optics set on any crevice where the husk of his friend could have possibly been hiding. He didn't bother calling out. It was a useless endeavor.

One joor. Two joors. And then, he found what he was looking for.

"Hello, Orion. Its been a while, hasn't it?" A lanky figure pulled itself out of a small cave. Cycled down optics met his, curiosity registering somewhere in their empty stare. Ratchet didn't dare move as the husk pulled itself out of its hiding place, its helm tilted ever so slightly in confusion, or perhaps interest.

"I had hoped that you'd made it out alright. But I don't think that's the case." His words were faint as the husk finally stood. It was thin, gangly from what was likely months of less than sufficient energon. Its armor was cracked and broken, the jetpack that Optimus had once enjoyed now all but ripped off. The husk's face was covered in gashes and marks, the rest of its frame not much better. It looked... pitiful. But above all else, the shining Matrix in its chassis made Ratchet frown.

"No normal mech should be able to survive these wounds." He practically whispered as he took a step forward, holding out a servo in a friendly manner. The husk froze, almost looking ready to scuttle back into its hiding place. But Ratchet remained firm, standing still and speaking quietly.

"That thing... it won't let you die, will it?" He received no verbal answer, but the glowing white of the husk's optics told him everything he needed to know.

White was the color of divinity, but also of sickness. A mech with white optics was said to be doomed to die. Ratchet was not normally a mech to care about superstitions. But that one... he could get behind.

"It must hurt." He couldn't disguise the faint shakiness of his voice as the husk finally inched closer, looming over Ratchet with height that had once been comforting. The husk's optics cycled down and then went wide. A wide and almost sparkling like smile spread across its face as it dropped to all fours, crawling nearer on just about Ratchet's level.

It hesitated a moment, and then pressed its face up against Ratchet's servo like a hound would. Ratchet almost winced, but seeing the husk's genuine affection, he couldn't bring himself to do anything more than sigh and run his free servo along the crest of its helm. So similar to his Prime, and yet so very different.

"The others want to bring you home. They want to fix you." The husk's engine rumbled in delight, pleased as Ratchet caressed broken finials with light touches. The husk looked so very happy as it came closer, seating itself at Ratchet's pedes to lean into every place his digits touched. So unlike Optimus. This thing was a mere echo, a sad and painful echo.

"I don't think you want to be fixed, if that is even possible." His venting hitched as he cupped the husk's face, sensing the animalistic instinct in it. The husk didn't fight back as Ratchet pressed the crest of his helm to the husk's, enjoying the momentary interaction.

"I wanted to hope... I wanted to think that maybe you'd evaded death yet again." He could feel coolant threatening to gather in his optics as he quietly reached to his satchel, pulling out an injector. The yellow liquid within glowed faintly in the dying light of the evening, but Ratchet paid it little mind as he memorized the faint sounds of the husk's engine and the giddy smile upon its face. It hadn't even noticed Ratchet's tool.

"I prayed for your return. But I think that may have been a mistake." Blazing white optics gazed up at him, innocent and yet vacant. It hurt more than it should have.

Why? Why did it have to look so alive and yet so dead?

"Perhaps it would have been kinder if death had finally taken you." Pressing a kiss to the husk's helm crest, Ratchet enjoyed the warmth of a living, venting mech for a moment longer. His spark spun in agony, but now was not the time to stop. This... this was a mercy.

"Rest Orion. Return to Codexa, to Alpha Trion. Go to those who love you... and know that one cycle I will join you there." In one swift motion, Ratchet dug the injector into the husk's neck. Its optics blew wide, its vocalizer spitting static as it stared up at him in sheer terror.

"Shh... it's alright. It will be over soon." The husk went limp, falling into Ratchet's arms. He knelt quietly, letting it rest against his chassis as its frame began to seize. The Matrix flared, sending shocks through the husk to try and keep it active. The husk wailed in response, its shattered vocalizer producing pained cries that could have caused the dead to quake. Ratchet held firm, keeping the husk held against him as the Matrix's shocks ran their course, eventually ceasing.

"I'll tell the others you were dead upon my arrival. Don't worry. They won't see you like this... I promise." The husk spasmed a moment longer, its optics momentarily returning to a bright and healthy blue. For a half klik, Ratchet could have sworn he saw understanding in those optics.

And gratitude.

"I'm sorry, Old Friend." The term of endearment slipped past his derma before he could stop it. In response, Optimus smiled and then fell still, his optics going dark and his frame losing all life.

Ratchet held what remained of his oldest friend for a long while, not speaking or moving.

It was done.

Now Optimus could rest.

[showstopper35]

Honey Sun (arranged marriage to Megatron, part two)

Part One

a/n: a whole two people asked for part two! @yrsfch and @sleepisapriviligethatidonthave thanks! This story is giving me back my love of writing.

cw: implied masturbation, but not much else. a whole lot of silence.

-Days melted into weeks, months, years….centuries. The war raged on, and I was reduced to a princess in a castle. He never came back after that night. Suddenly called to the front, people said. Part of me thought it was a way to be rid of me. After all, neither of us had wanted this. Why was I expecting him to come back? No honeymoon for a puppet.

-And now the war was over. News of your death was a blow, but it was an even bigger one hearing that you had returned. Sure, Starscream ruled Cybertron. Shockwave was gone. But now you were on trial. They said they were letting you hold off on all your crimes. You hadn’t mentioned a divorce. Or even me. Not even when they asked me if I thought you were guilty. Not even when I said yes. They said you were going on a ship full of Autobots. They said I was to come with you. Optimus’s orders. Notice how Optimus never married?

-I followed, because I had no choice. Packed up my things and set them in our shared room. I saw that there was only one large berth, because of course. We were married. I was married to one everyone called a monster. -The next few days passed in total silence. No words were spoken between us. You were never there, of course. At night you recharged with your back facing me. My back faced yours. -I was surprised it ached so much. After all, I should be more than used to this by now. But maybe the fact that you were here made it worse. So close, and yet not enough. Sharing a berth again didn’t mean our marriage was fixed. So much for the great intervention of Optimus Prime. You can’t salvage two broken pieces.

-I’d taken to reading near you on the bridge, or in the bar. Sometimes Rodimus tried to talk to me, but my one-word answers put him off. I think he pitied me. Ultra Magnus politely asked me how I was and left it at that. I could imagine you being friends with him. If you even had friends. -I remember once that Rodimus had glared at you, not-so-subtly flicking his eyes over to me. With a heavy sigh, you had asked how I slept. “Fine. You?” “Fine as well.” He gave Rodimus a cold stare. We didn’t speak the rest of the day.

-I should mention here that centuries of being alone has made me rather good at…entertaining myself. I only do this when you’re not here, of course, but I think you can tell. Averted gaze when you come back to our room, finding my face slightly flushed. I can’t tell if you do it too. -We continue this silent dance, waiting for the other to finally crack the canyon between us. I know it’s going to me, eventually. I can’t be alone for centuries more. I start imagining talking with you…being with you. I’m probably going crazy just because of the newer bit of contact. -I start accidentally brushing against you in your sleep. Whispering “Good morning”, only to be met with a gruff hum of acknowledgment. Little glances at you while you read, or talk with Rodimus. Once, I smile at you, and I know that you froze for a second before turning away.

- I want more. -Maybe I do want this.

———————————————————————————-

Part Three

[robolvrr]

late night adventures  ⁠`⁠๑🍻

swerve x gn! human bartender headcanons /

i need more of this adorable little guy.

sfw / suggestive under the cut.

"wait a minute. you gotta go to academy to make drinks?!"

you end up on the lost light completely by convenience. sure, cybertronians haven't exactly gotten the best reputation - a waging war following wherever they migrated wasn't pleasing for the planets caught in between a billion years of conflict. still, you're tired of working in a shitty bar with shitty customers and shitty pay.

while brainstorm first suggested to find a way to mass displace you (which you tend to just tune out his plans because he makes zero sense), the crew has settled on just making you a mech suit. it's not boxy, fitted for your frame. you don't have a helmet on because the mechs like to look at you.

kind of like a zoo animal exhibit to be honest. look, the alien in the tin can can speak!

you quickly develop some favorites. tailgate is adorable and cyclonus is terrifying but warms up to you over a few months. rewind is chatty. rodimus is.. rodimus. whirl has his charm and you love to hear skids ramble.

but who you really click with?

swerve.

my god he is OBSESSED. a human? on board? in his lifetime? at HIS bar?

it's even better once he learns you share interests.

you talk about your experience as a bar tender and yap his audials until he's melting. he loves it though.

he finds it interesting all the personal touches humanity tends to do for drinks.

like little fruits in fancy cups? burning a glass just for the fun of it?

"do you ever experiment with drinks?"

"well, yeah. to an extent."

"huh. do your customers sometimes offline for a lil?"

"... no honey i don't think they ever have."

please help him convince ultra magnus to include their trades for wines and spirits.

sometimes he lets you get behind the bar top.

he gets posted at your side and gushes like a goof. he finds the way you're able to talk and make drinks very, very impressive.

he learns to make drinks for you over time.

the first time you kind of gag and he freaks out, but you just end up patting his helm and choking out it's alright, he just gave his drink some extra kick.

HOOO. that is LIQUOR sir.

"what's wrong, starshine? feeling nervous?"

so. swerve isn't much of a flirt funnily enough. mechs laugh at his jokes and he's gotten some great connections, but not nearly the time to actually go out of his way (or shell) to banter like that.

it doesn't help that not a lot take him seriously. :(

when you talk to him about the culture of bartending, you joke about whether or not he had to sweet-talk his frequenters for tips and such.

he looks so confused.

"huh? why would i? you come to a bar to.. drink. right?"

oh boy.

you laugh though pat his shoulder when he gives that tiny pout of his. and you have the brilliant idea to show him what you mean.

it turns into a bet. if you can casanova the armor of em you win! and he'll get to see you in your full element. that means one night, human bartending - which drags in a HUGE crowd.

swerve bumps into mech after mech, shooting a lazy set of finger guns before knocking his way up to the bar. why was it never this busy when he was tending?

maybe he should hire the human. they certainly got some flair. for business purposes, of course. not like he's been thinking about them in the middle of the night staring up at the ceiling still as a statue. that would be weird. and creepy.

is it hot in here? it's definitely hot.

he eases himself on a stool. it feels funny being on the receiving end for once.

imagine his surprise when he spots you effortlessly zipping around, making drinks and finding him in the crowd! that look in your smaller optics sparkle and he feels the ship shift. is he having a spark attack? maybe premature crisis.

"hiya, handsome. the regular?"

he doesn't even look down at the glass you set before him, but it's his favorite engex mix and you remember, you remember what he likes. frag. you are a real sparkthrob.

"haha, already starting with the show, huh? you're gonna have to do better than that if you wanna prove your point."

it doesn't take a detective to sense how nervous he sounds. or an magnifying glass, because his gaze is a little focused on where your aft would be. your mech suit is real nice. there's orange and yellow accents, dark coal mesh barely visible between rivets of armor.

sometimes in the shower he thinks about how you'd look as a cybertonian. you'd probably be just as hot.

hot galaxy babe. ha. so he's a hopeless romantic and a xenophile.

"you're my favorite customer, swervey. just admit it feels nice to be pampered. big, hard-working mech deserves a little treat now and then."

then you toss that impish look over your shoulder, shaking two steel mixers together. the motion is standard. up, down, up down, up down, shake shake.

your grip is firm and confident on the equipment. your fingers can't really fit fully around the circumference.

he gulps.

"y-you're not slick. nuh-uh-uh. takes a lot more than saucy words from a pretty thing to get this motor running."

"oh. so you'd like me to demonstrate? i am a hands-on learner."

"this kind of talk wouldn't fly around here for long, sweetspark. makes me kind of jealous - you doing this for all the crew? cause i gotta tell you, there's some reaaaal bastards--"

thank primus it's loud in here. you don't help you know, tipping over the bar with a wry grin.

something pops into his mouth. an energon cube. raw.

"then it's good i just like teasing you."

you slide down about four drinks along the metallic table. swerve wonders if love at first sight is truly like the movies.

"tell you what. these drinks? on the house. and if you stick around.. i can teach you some chemistry outside of just making a damned good cocktail."

steam whistles out his vents.

..........

yeah. you won.

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A digital sketchpage of Colin Becher from The Magnus Protocol on a gray background. He is a thin white man with a receding hairline and a blonde mullet that is very long in the back, tied into a low ponytail. He also has a mustache, patchy facial hair, body hair, and blue eyes. In four out of five sketches, Colin is wearing silver stud earrings, rectangular glasses with yellow lenses, a yellow t-shirt under a light blue button down, a light brown zip-up hoodie, blue jeans with brown knee patches, blue and white striped socks, brown sneakers, and bracelets including a braided one with pink and burgundy threads. On the right, there's a shoulder-up sketch of Colin with his body facing to the side while he turns his head to the viewer, looking angry. Below that is a far less detailed doodle of him on all fours like some kind of creature. On the far left is a shoulders-up sketch of him leaning against his hand looking tired with one eyebrow raised. Below that is a drawing of him facing away from the viewer on all fours looking under something with a little dark smudge above him denoting annoyance. In the middle is a full-body drawing of him posed as though sitting with one leg bent as he holds a game controller. He is wearing his glasses and earrings, as well as a white crop top that says "slut.exe" in blue text, yellow underwear, and blue and white thigh-high socks. He looks focused but also relatively relaxed. end ID]

~~~~

normal about that IT manager

and yes whenever i draw him with striped socks i need you all to know that they're the programmer socks. alice gave them to him mostly as a joke but he actually loves them and that's one reason they're buds in my mind

[cenittxnadir]

A little fever (Nightcrawler x Reader)

Okey, so this is my very firt story with Kurt. I´ll be posting more soon about him, for the moment I will only write about him. So please tell me if you like it or if you some ideas. You know the drip, english is not my first lenguage... nor german...

Having free time was something new within the mansion, now with Magneto in charge of the institute and reorganizing the activities among the inhabitants of the mansion, he left several mutants without many responsibilities other than taking care of the minors and ensuring that they complete their tasks and training. Because yes, Magneto may be a terrorist and a murderer, but he will never be irresponsible towards education, especially towards the youngest members of the house. So every day he personally made sure that each and every one of the young people attended their classes.

Very responsible on his part, but it does not take away the feeling of discomfort in some of the members, especially the X-Men like Wolverine or Scott, -the only thing they have agreed on since Professor Xaver died-

However, this didn't bother you that much, since you shared the idea with Rogue of giving Magnus a second chance. Because if life had given you a second chance to do things well and help others with your powers, why would you be the one who would deny it to someone else who in the end only seeks to continue with the Professor's dream. Maybe a very innocent or naive move on your part in wanting to see the best in the worst situations but they couldn't blame you either, that's what happens when you live for a long time with a certain blue ex-priest.

Kurt Wagner or better known as Nightcrawler is famous among the mansion even though his humility does not allow him to recognize it, but he is very loved within the mutant community, both at the institute and in Genosha. Since his arrival at the mansion, Kurt has been the echo of the people who continue their struggle and the voice of those who cannot raise it due to the impunity that lives in a world where being different was wrong.

But for you, more than a spokesperson or a faithful follower of God's teachings, he was a man, a very good one whom you had the fortune of calling boyfriend and sharing life with him for a couple of years now.

Unfortunately, being someone who was too influential within the community, Magneto relied a lot on him and his professionalism to deal with complicated issues within Genosha. He was recently offered the position as Faith Group Mediator in Genosha and it was definitely not an opportunity he would pass up, there was so much to do and learn. But Kurt is still one person against the hundreds of problems that a nascent nation can have, the poor man was exhausted but his determination to help was greater than his physical or emotional ailments.

You had been living apart for a couple of months now, the problem was not the distance, Megneto was kind to you and gave you access to the Jet as many times as you wanted so you could go visit him, but like Kurt, you were also someone important among the X-Men, you were a very good teacher and guide for the younger ones who were just awakening their abilities and Magneto needed you in that area. It was not an easy decision for the two of you but it was a good opportunity to explore new areas in your lives, you as the one in charge of guiding and educating the new generations and him as a founding member of the nation that would accommodate those new generations.

Lately due to both of their workloads it has caused communication to be minimal, but this would soon change for you since the holidays were approaching and you would have more free time and the possibility of visiting him for a couple of weeks but the problem is that Kurt was not answering your messages or calls, worried you went to the person you least expected to go to discuss a topic of this type.

It was the 5th turn you had taken in the hallway that led to Magneto's office door. You didn't know how to start the conversation or how to ask him, maybe Kurt was very busy and going to visit him would only delay him in his work and you didn't want that to cause him problems with Magneto, even though he now plays for the good guys you are still afraid of him. Whatever the reason Kurt wasn't responding, you had to make a decision right then and there.

A couple more turns and you almost left marks from your shoes on the carpet.

"Come on, you can do it. It's just Magneto, the greatest mutant ex-terrorist in history, what could go wrong?" You started to encourage yourself "Come on, don't you want to see Kurt?" You counted to three, it's now or never. You barely touched the wooden door when it opened.

"I was just going to look for you" "Me? Why?" You were more confused "You might want to sit down." He said something serious as he offered you a seat. "It's about Kurt. He's not okay, there was a flu outbreak on the island recently, nothing alarming, but, he hasn't stopped working since he arrived in Genosha, I've trying to talk to him, he needs to rest and recover from the fever but he doesn't listen to me"

You didn't know what impressed you more, Magneto's concern or Kurt being sick. No one knows if it's part of his mutation or if he just has a good immune system, but it's extremely rare for Kurt to get sick. "I need you to go to Genosha and stop him, it seems that he only listens to you."

"Well... that explains why he doesn't want to talk to me. He doesn't answer my messages, much less my calls. I just hope that after this you give him a break from so much work, Erick." You were a little upset with him, with both of them actually, Erick for making Kurt work too much and Kurt because he is not good at asking for help. "I'll leave right away"

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

It only took you a few minutes to get everything ready to go, you thought Hank would be more reluctant to lend you the Jet but as soon as he found out what was happening with Kurt he didn't think twice. After a couple of hours you finally arrived at the mutant nation of Genosha, everything was very different from the first time you visited just a couple of months ago. Everything was very beautiful, the lights, the people so colorful and friendly, children being free and happy. It was a dream.

Quickly got out of your thoughts and focused on finding your blue boyfriend who is most likely hiding away working. It was not difficult to find it, Magneto gave instructions on where to look and sure enough. Inside a large window in the main city building was Kurt... well, part of him, you could only see his pointy ears behind a pile of paper towers.

You slowly approached to knock on his door. Silence. Suddenly there was only the sound of a chair being dragged and something moving inside the room. A few seconds later the door opened revealing a rather tired Kurt. You could see the dark circles under his eyes, which didn't shine like they usually did.

"Meine Liebe?" You couldn't help but smile as you listened to Kurt, he sounded overly impressed to see you. Although the smile did not last long since Kurt sounded very bad, he was hoarse and if it were not for the light from the hallway that illuminated his face you would have ignored the color in his cheeks and the sweat on his forehead.

"You're not okay, Krut, you need to rest" was the only thing you could respond, opening the door completely and revealing the office, there were hundreds of papers scattered all over the place. "You haven't stopped working since you arrived. You had me worried" Kurt didn't say anything, just hung his head in some shame. "It's true, I didn't tell you anything because I didn't want to worry you, I wanted to finish work so I could return to the mansion with you as a surprise but work just keeps piling up and this flu won't leave me alone" He sounded really fed up with the situation.

"Come on, you have to rest. I'll take you home and prepare you something to eat." You took him by the arm carefully. "You probably haven't eaten anything useful all day."

"Of course I have eaten my love! Here in Genosha there is a lot of variety of food and delicious dishes" He said with his circus voice, he always uses it when he is happy or wants to show you something that excites him very much. Or well, with a voice attempt, it really sounded very hoarse

"Dear, candy and desserts don't count as food." You pointed to a pile of wrappers on the side of his desk. "I'm surprised you've never actually had a toothache or something at this point."

You approached his desk to arrange the papers he was working on. "Well, take your things, let's go get something to eat and let you rest."

"But Mein Schatz, I still have a lot of work to do. I can't leave, but you can go ahead and make yourself at home" He gave you the keys to his room

"Kurt, I came here to check on you and make sure you're resting and for God's sake that's what I'm going to do. If I have to take drastic measures or even if I have to drag you to your room I will do it. Don't make me go to extremes Kurt Wagner" You wanted to sound serious but it was almost impossible, you were too happy to see him.

"If you continue to be reckless, then I will have to leave and there will be no cuddling sessions for at least a whole month, anyway you are very busy with your work. I think I better go" You said with a fake sad tone as you walked towards the exit but a huge gasp stopped you.

"You wouldn't dare do that! Saying that is like blasphemy." Kurt looked at his desk for a second. "On second thought, going to rest doesn't sound so bad." He looked at you with concern, he really thought you were going to leave him without his sessions. They were sacred to him.

"Well, let's go. It's still early, if we leave right now we'll have more time for ourselves." You didn't even finish speaking when Kurt was already on the side of the door ready to leave with you.

When you got to his room you could see Kurt better, his face was tired and the fever was still there.

"Why don't you take a bath while I'll take care of the food?" you took his face in your hands, caressing his cheek and then leaving a kiss on his nose.

The bath took effect and soon his temperature began to drop but he still had to eat something before taking his medicine. They were both sitting on the couch eating some hot soup while watching something on television, although it was just background noise.

Kurt was telling you what his days had been like since he arrived, you were paying attention but you couldn't help but see how he rubbed his shoulder constantly.

"Love? Are you okay?" you pointed to his shoulder

"Ah, it's nothing, it's just that I haven't been able to sleep well lately and well... sitting for hours is not very pleasant" He said with a sideways smile showing one of his fangs.

Without saying anything you took him by the hand and led him to the bed, asking him to lie face down while you took some oils and creams from your backpack. Kurt initially refused because he knew he was going to fall asleep and wanted to spend the night awake with you talking. Not a very smart plan considering his state of health. The complaints were short-lived once he felt your hands on his back. Almost by magic, Kurt remained silent and soon you only heard small snoring due to his congestion. You couldn't help but laugh a little, he looked so adorable. You took his blanket and tucked him in, giving him a kiss on the head.

You quickly cleaned what was used during dinner and changed your clothes to lie next to Kurt, who almost as if it were a magnetic force moved until he was lying on your chest. You were definitely going to wake up with the flu but that didn't matter.

"Please don't go," Kurt said in his sleep.

"No, my love. I'm going to stay here with you"

[revelboo]

Ahh yes, the day of turkey has come. Hope you'll enjoy yourself and we're very thankful for what you've done for us. Have fun and be safe! 😋🍗🥧🥂💖💖💖

Thank you! You guys have a great holiday, too

Lose Control Pt 2

IDW Swerve x Reader

• Reaching for a drying rag, he closes the distance between you. Aware of how tense you are as he slowly drapes it about your shoulders and offers a servo to you. Would rather pick you up, but since he’s as vertically challenged as you are, he can’t help thinking about how it would feel if Magnus or Megs just picked him up without permission to move him. Not exactly cool. Staring at his servo, you look up at his face and reach out to lay your warm palm on him. Letting him lead you in an awkward hunch behind the bar. “So, name’s Swerve and this is Swerve’s,” he says, unable to resist grinning.

• He’s not so scary, you decide as you shakily look around. There’s just something disarming about that friendly voice and you clutch at the blanket he gave you, tension easing. If he was going to hurt you, he would have by now. Right? “Where am I?” You remember pain and then being here, scared and disoriented. Your fingers won’t stop shaking.

• “Okay,” he says, pulling out another cleaning cloth and draping it over your head because you’re still shaky. Could just be after effects of being brought here across space and time, though. He can’t imagine it’s fun to be yanked from place to place suddenly. “So, brace yourself, you’re in space. On a ship.” Spreading his hands he waits for the disbelief. Not for the blank stare at his revelation. You’d heard him right? “You know. Space.”

• “Okay. Unbeam me up. Put me back.” It’s not like you can demand anything of the big, alien robot or force him to do anything, but this has to be a mistake. You shouldn’t be here, obviously. He has to understand that. “I have work tomorrow.” Even to you, the words sound dumb.

• “What?” I have work tomorrow? “I can’t send you back, we’re nowhere near Earth.” And you’re still staring at him, eyes narrowing slightly like you don’t believe him at all. “Here, look.” Gingerly catching you around the middle, he boosts you up onto the back counter and climbs up after you. Points at the view screen visible near the stacks of bottles and glasses and follows you down to the end of the bar as you stare out at nothing but darkness and stars. No planets within sight. And he almost doesn’t manage to catch you when you make a funny little noise and your eyes roll up in your head, going disturbingly boneless as you black out.

Previous

[meangreennunseen]

This post was living in my brain rent free since I saw it, so I had to draw Big E chasing one of his kids around😂. Feat. Magnus, because somehow not only I came up with hilarious headcanon on how Magnus became fertile, I also gave him little family before Heresy happened and everything went to shit. Also Emps wailing on poor Magnus just feels natural to me 🤣

Bonus, featuring forementioned family and Grampa Malcador, because he wouldn't miss this show of stupidity for any money.