#ONE: Inside the Matrix

[ruvviks]

Following the chilling conclusion of All That's Left's first season, Mac and Layla and their friends find themselves scattered across a divided Los Angeles a year after their successful return to town. Matrix Corp has taken control— "With humanity's best interest in mind"— but with our protagonists' knowledge of Opportunity's destruction and Houston's unexpected fall, they know better than to trust the corporation and its near military-sized security force. Closed district gates separate them from one another and a new threat lurks just outside the city's walls— but resistance is on the rise, and it is only a matter of time before truth comes out. [SEASON ONE HERE]

taglist (opt in/out)

@shellibisshe, @florbelles, @ncytiri, @roseeway, @stars-of-the-heart;

@lestatlioncunt, @katsigian, @radioactiveshitstorm, @estevnys, @adelaidedrubman;

@celticwoman, @rindemption, @carlosoliveiraa, @noirapocalypto, @dickytwister;

@killerspinal, @euryalex, @ri-a-rose, @velocitic, @thedeadthree;

@kanos, @swordcoasts, @ordinarymaine, @claudiawolf, @strafethesesinners

[trinity111wu]

Keanu

[theblehthatbloos]

Sex is cool and everything but have you ever had one of them white rabbit candies the day after a dehydrating night at your local goth spot? Like, the ones with the paper? That shit bangs

[cheyisagirlkisser]

Finding old man Eugene’s porn with Ellie..

Warnings: dub-con (reader and Ellie are high), smoking, mentions of porn, sexual tension, fingering (r! receiving), sloppy make-outs, Astrid is just a mention from one of the tlou patrol logs so I included her for fun idk

Word count: 1.6k

Your hands are frigid and almost numb even through your gloves. The snow from outside is only falling tenfold, and you’re lucky to have found shelter at all. You watch as Ellie ties Shimmer up nearby and turns to you, and you’re surprised she isn’t all teeth-chattering and “brrr.” The girl has way too much tolerance for the elements compared to you, who is currently freezing.

“You said you’ve been in here before?” Ellie inquires, and you nod. It’s true that you’re familiar with the creek trails; many times have you and Cat been on horseback and on foot through the town East, along the water stream that is probably now all frozen over.

You lead Ellie downstairs and without much words, you begin to scavenge around for supplies. You know what’s common here - ammo, rations, all the basics. You know that this is more than a simple scavenge-and-go, though. There’s practically a blizzard outside, and you know that at least the generator set up in case of emergencies is visible. 

You begin to power up the generator with a few clean spins. Last patrol, Astrid taught you how to crank the handle without nearly breaking it. The thing’s a little rusty with disuse since it has been a while since the temperature has called for winter weather, so it takes more arm power than usual. When the generator finally roars to life, you sigh in relief and try to find Ellie, who is more than likely still going through ammo cases. 

You find her at a door that’s closed off from the main area. She notices your presence, turning to you with a question. “Ever been this far?”

“Nah. The only person who’s ever been down there is Eugene.”

“Shall we?” Her smile is roguish. 

You nod. “There’s no telling what is even down there.”

With a little turn of the door handles (which were slightly stiff), the door is open and the sight before you is not a room but a staircase. Ellie peers down into it.

“Let’s be cautious, it may need to be cleared out.”

The sight before you is not a horde of clickers but instead a one that makes Ellie mutter out a “holy shit…” and you agree; holy shit is right. Dead marujana plants are all over the room, and there’s a small television next to a stained couch, stacks of vcr tapes in a pile on the floor.

“Well, I think we should take a much-deserved break.” You say with a smile that reminds Ellie of a kid on Christmas morning, quickly padding over to the tapes to find something worth watching. Ellie approaches as well, but she raises an eyebrow at your jaw being practically on the floor now.

“What?-” Ellie starts, but then she catches a glimpse of the tape cover. There are two women completely naked and a comically large title reading “Sorority Sisters.” She sputters out a laugh, “Eugene’s porn collection?”

“What the fuck?! I just wanted something like The Matrix, I-” Ellie’s face makes you realize that she is truly considering it- watching a porn together. You and Ellie were only friends, wasn’t that weird?

“Oh, don’t give me that look. It’ll be funny. Do we have anything better to do trapped in the middle of a blizzard?”

You sigh and relent. As much as it makes your stomach feel all hot and weird at the thought of watching bad porn with Ellie, you don’t have any better ideas. “Fine. But only if we can find something to smoke down here as well.”

You and Ellie aren’t as far apart as you should be. The film has been playing on the low quality television in front of you for only the past 20 minutes, and there’s still another 30 to go. Your body feels all warm inside from the weed, and Ellie’s thigh is brushing up against yours as the two of you sit next to each other on the couch. The two of you are out of your jackets and are in just pants and a t-shirt, the heat from the generator fully enveloping the air. The blizzard is all but forgotten. You know that you should put some distance between you and Ellie, that this could have consequences. You’ve already fucked up. You’re supposed to be on patrol, for fuck’s sake. Not watching two college girls eat each other out on a grainy screen and take occasional hits to an old joint, but here you are.

This shouldn’t be turning you on as much as it is. With someone like Cat or Dina, you would be laughing and making jokes about the exaggerated moans. With Ellie next to you, her gorgeous face lit up by the television light, you are both silent. 

And then her fingers skim over your thigh. Just slightly, but enough for you to notice. You’re losing your composure, your breathing heavier. You can feel the moment your panties become soaked. There is an unbearable heat in your lower stomach, and suddenly, it’s as if every little thing you notice about the moment surrounds you at once. You can mainly only smell the weed, but being so close to Ellie means that her crisp scent fills your nose and apparently turns you on even more. Her body heat makes you want to forget that she’s just a friend. Each (stupidly loud) moan echoing in the room from the porno even makes you clench, just because you’re aware Ellie is right next to you and you’re watching this together. 

Before you can even process it, Ellie’s hand is sliding between your thighs, massaging your inner left thigh. You feel a familiar heat pool within your belly. 

Her voice is low, just an intimate, raspy whisper in your ear that nobody else would ever be able to hear, “you can tell me to stop.”

You should tell her to stop. You should swat her hand away and tell her to keep her paws off of you. But.. you don’t. Instead, you let out an exhale, a shaky and bewildered sound before guiding her hand right between your legs. She can’t touch you properly through the stiff fabric of your jeans, but she has no intentions of rushing things. Ellie is a damn tease, distracting you by leaning down and skimming chapped lips over the sensitive skin of your neck. The breaths she takes are short and the exhales are hot against your skin, making you shudder. Her fingers are firmly rubbing over your clit through the fabric of your denim jeans. 

“Such a damn tease,” you scold, but you’re already slightly moving your hips for more friction. 

Ellie smiles against your pulse, barely sinking her teeth into the skin to make you gasp, then pulling away to laugh. “But you know you love it.” 

You can’t deny it, so you grow silent, letting her continue to play with you as if you’re a puppet pulled by strings, the major string being your pussy. Ellie knows you so fucking well, it’s almost uncanny. That is how it has always been, though. Ellie has always been able to read you like an open book. She knows your favorite things, she knows that she is your favorite person, she knows when to tell you stupid puns and insult you and when to put a comforting hand on your shoulder and wipe away your tears. Now, without ever touching you so intimately before, she just knows how to make you beg for more. 

“Ellie, please..” You plead, and the heightened pitch doesn’t go unnoticed by Ellie. She pulls away from her work on your neck to leave a soft kiss on your jawline, trailing up to your ear. 

“Tell me that you want more, and I’ll fuck you right here.” She doesn’t sound like your usual Ellie, instead raspy and so serious. You know that this isn’t a prank. All you want to hear is that voice telling you filthy things while she fucks you, and just like that, the porno in the background is washed out. 

“I want you to fuck me.” 

You’re whining, your head laid back on the couch with your legs spread out wide for her. Your jeans are on the floor, your underwear pooled around your ankles with the haste that Ellie used to be able to fuck you. Her fingers are drilling so deeply into your cunt, nearly making it impossible to hold on longer. Once she had you naked, she didn’t feel the urge to tease.

“Fingers so deep in this cunt, and you’re still begging for more,” she laughs at the way your walls clench in response and your whines are just as loud as the girls on tv who are long forgotten. 

“Ellie, fuck- I dunno how long I can hold on…I wanna cum so bad, please, please-” You’re quickly cut off by your own cry when Ellie curls her fingers up into your g-spot, her thumb padding at your clit to only heighten the sensation. She knows you so well. How does she know the way you like it, the way you touch yourself when you’re alone in your bedroom at night.The way your palm brushes against your clit as you finger your drenched hole? The fact that you grip the sheets with your free hand and moan her name? 

“Shh, c’mon, baby. I’ve got you, just cum for me.” She coos in your ear, slipping in a third finger and stretching you out so nicely, filling you up so good and then she’s stroking your walls- 

Your orgasm hits not in waves, but instead like a pulse, beating and Ellie can feel the way you flutter, she can feel the way your clit beats against the calloused, wet pad of her thumb. Your thighs instinctively close her in, you can’t beat to feel her pull out until this onslaught of pure star-striking pleasure is over. Her free hand turns your face towards her and she swallows up your moans in a sloppy kiss, her tongue fucking into your mouth lazily and sensually. 

The moments after are sweaty and sweet. She lay next to you across the couch, one of her arms underneath your body so that she can keep a hand wrapped around your waist. Everything is beautiful and so warm, like a fever dream. Your high is still on-going, and you wonder how this could ever end. 

When Jesse’s voice rings through the building, it does end.

[baba-o-riledup]

sorryyyy but the balance would NOT be my problem with The Substance😭 There are no INSTRUCTIONS. Like is it subcutaneous, intramuscular, or intravenous? I would not have been able to figure out what the needle and thread was for either if no one told me😭 I DEFINITELY would not have figured out that the stabilizer fluid came from inside the matrix body i probably would have tried to inject more green stuff and died😭😭😭 I don’t even know that I could have figured out that the food bags were supposed to be hooked up to the off-week body. Like I’ve been doing T injections for 5 years and I read through every step of my original instruction pamphlet every single week🥲 baby needs it written down🥲🥲

I would have been on the phone with that anonymous voice guy for 2 hours before I even opened any of the packages

[fipindustries]

the interestesting thing about the matrix, as presented in the famous 1999 film "the matrix", is that is actually not that bad for one specific reason. the people there are real.

its telling that in the movie neo is not given close friends or family or a partner or any meaningful kind of human conection, it helps to sell the world as distant and fake and inhuman.

but the thing is that any relation you form inside the matrix... is actually a real human conection. like say you are in the matrix and you start dating this really cute, cool person who likes to play boardgames and s a fan of romantic comedies and is studying to become and architect. that is a real human who is somewhere in the rows of human cultivated fields connected to a bunch of tubes floating in goo. but when they are talking to you in the matrix they are actually talking to you. the things they say actually mean something, the love you feel for each other is real.

like, thanks morpheus, your fight for Zion is cool and all but i have a daughter, i have my best friend with whom i went to college. and morpheus might say something about how the college was fake and it never existed but the moments i had with my friend were real!

the real problem with the simulation machine is solipsism. in a premise where you ARE actually the only mind that exists and everything else was a simulation then, well, that is a lot more scary (would it? if all your friends were AIs would that mean they were not real? food for thought), but my point is that is not the premise of that movie.

i would really like a story where someone is woken up from the matrix and they are resolute to find their partner somewhere on the fields of bodies maybe to wake them up too. or maybe the partner convinces them to go back into the matrix, i dont know. there is a lot of place for drama there.

the last matrix movie sort of touches on that but i feel it doesnt really count because it does it with neo and trinity who both got to know each other outside the matrix and also they were both forcibly put back and whatever

[quixotical-lymbo]

I saw that your requests were open and rushed over here as quick as I could!

I would LOVE to see more D-16 and Orion Pax, maybe a poly relationship of how they would act as a dynamic. Reader would be whatever you'd like for them to be and a miner as well, maybe they are the balance for the two to keep them in check? Can be fluff or angst, I'm not picky!

Im so excited to see what you do! Keep up the amazing work!

Pairing: D-16 x Orion Pax x mech!Reader Rating: SFW-ish Summary: When a balanced duo meets a like-minded bot like them, how will this shake the dynamic between the newly formed trio? Warnings/Tags: Pre-canon, does this count as spoilers?, angst, fluff, romantic gesture(s), oil baths, secret relationship(s), Elita-1 cameo, Orion gives you a nickname, reader is an archivist (lmao WAS an archivist).  Word Count: 1600+ words 

How did you three meet?

It was a normal day sorting through the records and making sure everything was in its proper place. You adjusted your spectacles before moving the box from your hip into two servos. The corridor you were walking in was long, empty, and cold. Not a single spark in sight and you preferred it that way. 

As you pressed a button, the doors to a room slid open and you carried the box inside. Whistling a small tune, you placed the box on a table and paused when something clicked.

Looking over your shoulder, you found two pairs of optics staring at you. One as blue as the sky, the other as bright as the sun. 

"....hey?" 

"AAAAAAHHHHHH-MFPH!" 

First Impressions:

D-16

🟡 Thought you were rather skittish and weird, especially after you almost got them both in trouble had it not been for Orion shushing you with his servo.

🟡 Thankfully, you were rather understanding, a bit naive, but understanding of their innocent intentions.

Orion Pax 

🔵 You seemed like a nice mech.

🔵 A really nice mech when you didn't rat him and his buddy out to the guards when they approached the room to investigate the scream from earlier. 

🔵 Your derpy spectacles and timid mannerism (he caught onto your nervous tics) made him believe you were one of those uptight bookworms. Not the bad kind or snobbish, but not a social type of bot.

🔵 He was proved wrong twice when you had the opportunity to turn them in, but choose not to after hearing the purpose of their 'visit.' 

Shared interests: 

Oh boy, who knew you were a fan of Megatronus? Orion had a 'pleasant' time hearing D-16 and their new acquaintance ramble on about how cool and awesome the Prime was. 

When the conversation (more like fangirling) about Megatronus turned on Orion, the aforementioned mech spoke about the matrix and his goal in helping seek the location of it. 

Cue flapping servos and a squeal that was shushed by D-16's servo over your intake.

Not only were you interested in learning about the Primes, mainly Megatronus, but you also were interested in finding the lost lore of the Matrix and any information you could get your servos on. 

A friendship blossomed on that day and the three of you agreed to meet up at a bar or park whenever all of you had the time to do so. 

Overall dynamic a friends: 

You fit in pretty well with the duo. 

Your eagerness to learn more despite the consequences and sometimes good judgment was a nice balance to D-16 sticking to protocol and Orion Pax's exasperating ideas. 

Although your time spent with the two wasn't a lot compared to them working together in the mines, it didn't stop the bond from strengthening between you three. 

You were D-16's backup whenever Orion had a ridiculous plan that could lead him getting demoted severely.

You were Orion's hype mech and source of information whenever the two of you felt like you had a lead in your goals. 

You tend to call the red and blue mech Pax, even after being assured that you can call him Orion. After a while, Orion didn't mind the way you said his name, it felt…nice, like a 'special' thing between himself and you. 

Overall, I'd say the three of you were great friends. 

Until….

You picked up your pace and rubbed the glass of your spectacles from the smudge that happened to get on it. It was your off day and you wanted to spend as much of it with your friends as possible, especially when you had exciting news to share with them. 

You nearly bumped into a few bots, apologizing to them anyway, as you maneuvered around the busy streets of Iacon. It did not take long for you to arrive at the mines. You skidded to a halt when you spotted a pink femme chatting with a few other bots. 

You approached and before you could raise a digit to gain her attention she had long since spotted you. 

Elita-1 rolled an optic and jabbed a digit in one direction, then you were off--scurrying towards the showers to find your friends. 

"D? Pax?" You called as you stepped into the communal showers. The showers, which you've seen in some blueprints, were a shared space with only one or two baths built in. 

Mutterings echoed off the tiled area that appeared vacant. If it wasn't for the sound of oil, you would've assumed so. You rose a ridge before continuing to walk deeper into the area, only to stop when the murmurs grew clearer. 

"...Orion, we're going to be late…"

"C'mon, a little fun isn't going to make us late."

When you heard your designation spill from D-16's intake and more reassurance from Orion, you quickened your pace and rounded the corner to find a…well…sight to behold. 

Orion was partially submerged in the bath with D-16 straddling him. Their gazes were filled with a passion you never saw whenever the three of you were hanging out. For some reason, a pang seized your spark and you took a step back but bumped into the wall. 

The noise caused Orion and D to separate. 

"___?!" 

Energon shot to your faceplate added with the heat of the bath fogging up your spectacles caused you to stutter out a 'quick' sorry while attempting to escape. Oil splashed around as D-16 moved to the other end of the bath to cover his flushed face and Orion ran out of the bath to catch up…or rather, catch you.

Running in a slippery area was not a good idea. 

You crashed onto the floor and shrieked when your ankles were snatched and you were pulled back toward the bath. Clawing at the floor, your futile attempts at breaking free caused Orion to drop your ankles and walk around to your front to grab both sides of your helm. D-16 watched as he leaned against the edge of the bath.

"____."

"Yes?" You squawked. 

Orion smashed his dermas against yours. You felt weak and nearly melted into the kiss had it not been for the 'd'aww' coming from your other friend. You found the strength to withdraw from Orion and scoot back until you were a reasonable distance from both. 

"What..why…huh??" You pointed to the two of them, you and Orion, and then to your dermas. 

"We've…been meaning to tell you," D-16 started. 

"Just hadn't found the right moment, but now that you know…we can finally tell you how much we like you!" 

 "...classy." 

"Whaaat? ___ deserves to know about us and how we feel about them! All these secrets just felt..wrong, anyway-" Orion turned to look at you with a wide smile. "Whaddya say, starlight? You in?" 

 

"Call a medic cause  I'm about to have a spark attack." 

Cue them panicking along with you. 

And that's how you managed to become more than friends with your…well, friends. 

First date? 

A bar :) 

Twas a fun time walking the two of them back to your home when they were drunk off of their processors  

In the morning, you all comforted each other with the hangover pains 

First kiss? 

Orion already stole your first official kiss.

You and D's first kiss happened on the second date when you managed to 'borrow' some merch of his favorite Prime at a invite-only Iacon event. D legit swept you off your peds and kissed you hard enough you felt like you were seeing stars.

Demotion…

Yeah…courting a mech who's becoming notorious for sneaking into archives to look at restricted and sensitive data did not go over well with your higher ups. 

You were demoted to a lower title that stripped you off your access to most records. 

To say you were devastated was an understatement. 

You couldn't even look at Orion in the optics for a while. 

Arguments

This incident definitely caused a few disagreements in your relationship

First, D stopping Orion from visiting you too much so that you could have the space you needed 

You felt like scrap for the boiling resentment you were feeling toward yourself, the relationship, and with Orion.

It all boiled over when Orion disregarded D's warning  to stay away and managed to catch you during your working shift. 

And…it didn't end nicely. 

Names were called, not-so-good things were brought up, and you even called Orion a fragging screw up.

Making up 

After the big fight and 'cold war' that was going on between you three, mainly you and D-16 vs Orion. Things…settled down when all of you sat down to talk about it for once. 

Starting the conversation wasn't the easy part, discussion and apologizing was, especially when you and Orion were 'fighting' over how sorry you two were. D-16 had to shut the two of you up by holding you two idiots close in a hug.

Lots of servo-holding and cuddles happened that day :3

 Overall dynamic as a polycule: 

Healthy when communication isn't disrupted.

It's easy to play mediator if something does arise between two of you, but when all three of you are angry at each other? Eh, let's say there is a rule in the relationship to never bottle up your emotions for too long and communicate if you're upset about anything.

Jealousy….ohhhh, it doesn't happen often, but when someone gets a little too close Orion and D are on you like a starved bot on a pile of energon cubes. 

Your relationship is discrete, only a few bots (including your higher ups) know of the true nature of your relationship with D-16 and Orion Pax. 

Overall, it's a beautiful relationship....hopefully nothing bad will happen in the future wink wink.

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @dollywons !!

[strangelittlestories]

Something interesting about archaeology is that it’s actually not that interesting: even when you’re on a dig, most of it is dirt and logistics and fragments.

Something scary about ghosts is that they’re actually not that frightening: even when you have a haunting, most of it is ectoplasm and low-key longing and echoes.

The fascinating bit about both is that, sometimes, when you piece all the boring bits together, you get a story; a story of how people used to live. It will probably be a story about something mundane, like how people cooked or what their bathroom solutions were.

For example: at this particular dig, we found fragments of large cooking pots in a few larger buildings. The smaller buildings that seemed to be individual homes did not have *any* surviving cooking pots (not even any copper remnants); however, they did have at least one well preserved earthenware bowl inscribed with runes.

These runes turned out to be a close match to an early rune of co-locating folk magic, seen primarily in the Katabasic region. The bowl was also adorned with a slate inlay, of a kind that was often used to write upon in chalk.

The apparent conclusion? This settlement operated a communal cooking operation that delivered food to order. We would assume the recipient would write their request in chalk on the slate inlay of their bowl, and the runes would briefly trick reality into thinking the inside of the bowl and the inside of the pot occupied the same space. Thus, the bowl would magically fill with food.

So, yeah. These folks had invented magical Doordash.

I briefly considered trying to replicate their system on my travel mug. The coffee on the dig site was *dreadful*, so I figured I could have my husband make some nice single origin cold brew back home (or maybe a nice pot of darjeeling second flush?) and teleport it in. But as it was likely tied to local hospitality folk magic, this would likely run across three problems: 1. Range limitations. 2. It may only work for community members. 3. Folk magic sometimes used local deities or spirits as intermediaries and popping a new request in the inbox of a dormant god was usually a bad call.

Oh, and reason number 4: the bowl we’d excavated was extremely haunted.

This may, in fact, explain why it was so well preserved. Theurgic suffusation is the term - if the spirit is clinging tightly enough to the atoms of the object, then time starts to think the material is just as undying as the soul.

You know how I mentioned the scary thing about ghosts is that they’re not scary? They only persist as fully ensouled beings as long as their unfinished business can feasibly *be finished*. Even with generation blood debts, they still tend to become unviable with a couple of centuries. Then the soul slowly starts to move on, leaving only an imprint on the umbra. That’s what’s scary about ghosts: even that which is undying will be eaten by history.

Except this blighter apparently.

So I ran a chemical analysis on the trace molecules left on the lining of the bowl. Then I ran the runes through a penumbral simulation matrix.

The bowl contained traces of calcified aconite. The runes showed an exploit in the magic; the teleportation could be hijacked by holy petition or speculative conjuration.

The ghost had been poisoned. Murdered.

And if they were still a ghost, then whoever killed them was *still around*.

I really really hope that I never meet whatever person or creature is apparently still alive close to a millennia after they murdering someone in a way that is both *really clever* and *really nasty*.

But oh buddy, oh pal … what I want may be immaterial. For surely do intend to figure out the whole of this story.

---

With thanks to Ellie for the submission of the Archaeologist (fearless, frightened, fancy) to the Character of the Month club.

Want to submit your own characters for my stories? Consider supporting me on Ko-Fi with a recurring donation https://ko-fi.com/strangelittlestories

[mechdyke-after-hours]

INSIDE THE SHIP OF FLESH

second part to Inside The Tower of Gold!!

⚠️ WARNINGS!! ⚠️

transformers one spoilers, NON-CON, tentacle sex, ovipositon + egg laying, sounding, semi-public sex

y'all... I have NO idea how this fic turned out like this. I wasn't even expecting to write this chapter, let alone make it this... explicit. enjoy!

Going to the surface wasn't exactly a pleasant experience on a regular day, let alone after Sentinel's... experience last night. The more he thought about it while getting ready, the more conflicted he got. He still ached all over and the ozonic scent of leftover transfluids practically wafted off his frame. He buffed out as many scratches and paint transfers that he could in around 10 kliks, which admittedly... wasn't a lot.

Sentinel had respect for the Quintessons, of course he did. They helped him get everything he wanted and then some, all in return for a bit of energon. But they weren't exactly friendly, to say the least. They were very demanding creatures. Always wanting more. But he always just grit his denta and smiled, something he was very practiced at doing by now.

His announcement was slightly more rushed than usual. He still looked a bit of a mess, despite his best efforts. Scuffs and scratches littered his usually perfect plating, and his smile was slightly more forced. His powerful voice boomed over the Iacon display screens as he explained how he was once again "going to the surface and risking his life to find the matrix, for the greater good of the cybertronian race!" with a wide, toothy smile. He could hear the cheers from the broadcast room, mechs and femmes alike screaming his name. He puffed his chassis out slightly, grinning as the broadcast ended. He turned to Airachnid, and gave her a nod as they finished the final preparations.

As he stood in front of the Quintessons he couldn't help but feel that something was off. Sure, he had brought a little less energon than usual, but the way their red glowing eyes stared him down was wrong. He kept his cool, even when the high commander moved closer, hot breath washing over his frame. Slimy organic tentacles grabbed at him, bringing him up to its face. The Quintesson sniffed him, its eyes glowing just a little brighter as it lifted Sentinel up, eyeing his shoddily welded-on modesty panelling.

"I'll be bringing extra next time, I promise." Sentinel smiled as much as he could, trying to ignore the damp breath of the Quintesson high commander as it wafted over his face plate, the stench of something astringent filling his olfactory sensors. He was so focused on the smell, he didn't feel the slimy appendages inching tighter around his limbs.

It happened so quickly. His already once injured modesty panel was being pried off. Without thinking, he retracted it. The Quintesson sniffed again, the traces of leftover transfluids having leaked out and stained Sentinel's valve. He shot a glance towards Airachnid and the other guards, who were simply looking the other way, keeping an optic out for any other threats and ignoring the scene in front of them. Traitors.

The Quintessons tentacles tightened around his wrists and ankles, stretching him out until he was completely spread eagle, barely able to move. His wings twitched uselessly as he tried to get away, but the sight of glowing red eyes and bared teeth quickly put a stop to his attempts. He hung uselessly in the air as horrifyingly organic appendages probed and explored his frame, leaving sticky trails on his already marred plating. Grin and bear it. Grin and bear it.

The first slide of the appendage along the plush golden folds of his valve wasn't as unpleasant as he was expecting. He vented heavily as it toyed with his node for a moment, before sliding inside. The taper made it an easy fit at first, especially after the rough treatment his valve had already faced just hours before. But it kept sliding, and each segment kept getting thicker and thicker. It wasn't long before his callipers felt stretched to their limit, the small blunt tip pressing against the entrance to his gestation chamber.

As Sentinel's intake opened to protest, another one of the high commander's tentacled limbs pressed against his glossa. The taste and texture was vile, unlike anything he'd ever put in his mouth. It pushed forwards, filling his intake quickly, and slowly sliding down his throat. He gagged, but it didn't stop. He didn't realise he was crying, sobbing even, until he tasted the salty tang of coolant on his glossa. The tentacle went impossibly deep, down his throat to the point he could feel it in his tanks. The one in his valve pressed harder against his gestation chamber, and he felt a sudden pop. The delicate silicone ring gave way, allowing the Quintesson to slide even deeper.

To his horror, a third tentacle started prodding at his frame. He was no stranger to aft play, but with his body already so stuffed full he couldn't even begin to imagine it fitting into his port. But that didn't stop the Quintesson from trying. The natural lubrication of the appendage helped it slide in with ease, the tapered end once again proving useful. He cried out loudly, oral lubricants spilling out of his intake around the intrusion and onto his chassis. His port stretched painlessly, and for that he was thankful.

The high commander set a brutal, punishing pace. Sentinel tugged at his restraints again, his optics squinting closed as tears continued to spill down his cheeks. An overload was forced out of him, static energy arching and bouncing off his plating as transfluids shot out of his spike and splattered onto the ground beneath him, staining the floor pink. The Quintesson didn't slow, further bullying Sentinel's overstimulated and stretched valve.

A fourth, much thinner tentacle slid around his leg and up his thigh. It wrapped around the base of his spike, providing even more unwanted stimulation. Sentinel felt a strange pressure at the tip of his spike, his optics shooting open just in time to see the smallest appendage slide into his transfluid lines. The stimulation was confusing, the area so sensitive that it almost hurt. He let out a series of mumbled, confused moans as his spike was stretched, the thin tentacle thrusting slowly and releasing even more slimy fluids to aid the stretch. He bit down on the appendage stretching his intake slightly, his venting heavy and uneven, his frame overheating to the point his tears sizzled against his cheek plating.

The tentacle in his valve started flexing, becoming slightly thicker suddenly. Sentinel panicked and choked as a round object pushed itself into his valve, pushing against the entrance to his gestation chamber. He was suddenly thankful for the earlier stretching as the slightly gelatinous orb slid into him. He'd heard tales of how Quintessons reproduced, but he wasn't expecting to ever experience it firsthand. A second egg pressed against him, sliding in with surprising ease. The thin tentacle filling his transfluid line stopped him from overloading, leaving him frustratingly right on the edge. He sobbed, but no tears fell.

After a long moment, the barrage of squishy eggs finally slowed to a stop. His abdominal plating bulged out obscenely, creaking under the strain of his stretched out protomesh. The ovipositor tentacle twitched before releasing a sticky thick slime, filling him up even more. It retracted slowly, leaving his valve empty and stretched wide. A gush of fluids followed it, splattering onto the floor between his legs with a disturbing squelch. Next slid out the one in his spike slit, followed by the one in his port. The one from his intake was the last to retract, making his insides churn and lurch as he struggled not to purge his tanks.

The Quintesson high commander didn't let Sentinel go; however, if anything the appendages restraining him only got tighter. He tried to speak, but his throat felt raw, his glossa heavy in his mouth. His voice box let out a burst of static uselessly. His optics flickered offlined for a moment, before he felt a rush of pressure in his core.

The slime started to leak from his gestation chamber, providing a tingling numbing sensation not unlike the circuit booster patches from the night before, but located entirely in his valve. The pressure started soon after, the eggs having swelled slightly in the short time they had to germinate inside of his chambers. The Quintesson spread his legs slightly more and let out a chittering noise. Even more slime gushed out of Sentinel's abused valve, the blue and gold folds gaping open obscenely. His node blinked in time with his ventilations, his frame feeling slow and relaxed despite his current situation. He vaguely understood that he needed to start pushing, and he did just that. His valve stretched wide around the firm yet jelly-like eggs as they fell onto the floor below into a wet pile. His optics offlined again as he crashed into another overload, aiding the birth of the last few Quintesson eggs.

The high commander signalled to the other Quintessons who quickly rushed over, picking up the eggs and carrying them inside the grotesque looking ship. Sentinel was dazed, his helm spinning and throbbing in pain. He was dumped rather unceremoniously onto the sticky floor beneath, his plating suffering another few dents from the landing alone. His limbs twitched rather uselessly as he wiped drool and slime off his face with the back of a servo. The Quintesson left rather quickly after that, leaving him and the rest of his party alone in the techno-organic wasteland.

The last thing he saw before he finally passed out was Airachnid staring at him with unblinking optics, almost definitely recording and saving everything into her seemingly infinite memory banks. Whether to use it as blackmail against him or the Quintessons, he wasn't sure. But he'd have to ask for a copy later as... proof.

[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.

[imagine-darksiders]

Transformers Prime: Optimus X Reader. Chapter 2.

The Letdown.

Part 1

Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Family, Optimus is a big, overprotective worry-wort with a soft spot for humans, Reader has more issues than Vogue.

Let me know if you'd be interested in a part 3 :]

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

Optimus has always been an honest mech. Even before he was bestowed with the Matrix of Leadership, Orion-wet-behind-the-audials-Pax was about as good at carrying a lie as Miko is at keeping herself out of trouble.

Not much changed after Orion became a Prime.

Deception never came easily to him. Frank and truthful in all he does, there are times when even the principled leader of the Autobots has to concede that sometimes, deceit is a regrettable, but unavoidable necessity.

That doesn’t mean he’s grown better at it though.

Lying, in any capacity, makes the stoic and unflinching mech feel as if his glossa has been dipped in a coat of lead. To his own audial receptors, the insubstantial white-lie he’d coaxed you with sounded clumsy, even stilted – just two more things unbefitting of a Prime.

The Matrix had bucked inside his chassis when he fabricated the story that convinced you to accept his assistance. It had, however, quickly settled down after Optimus reminded himself that this was a lie borne from the best of intentions.

He may be the most fastidious in following his own self-set rule to remain incognito on Earth, but even a stickler like him could hardly ignore a human in need.

And you were in need, he reflects as he tentatively adjusts his rear-view mirror, angling it towards your face as surreptitiously as he can.

The memory of your desolate, beaten expression is bruised right into the forefront of his processor, where it’s sure to remain for some time to come. Bathed in the dim glow of his headlights, you’d stared up at his grill with the same frightened trepidity of a doe peering down the barrel of a hunter’s gun. You’d approached his open door with such caution, your tiny yet vital pulse rabbiting inside the veins and vessels that pump precious blood through your fragile, little body.

You were afraid of him, and it would be remiss of the great Prime to deny that the realisation had plucked at a tender node running through his spark-chamber.

It felt like a rejection.

‘Really, Optimus?’ He can almost hear Arcee’s cool, bemused ribbing now. ‘One human doesn’t like you, and suddenly your self-esteem takes a hit?’

She’d be right to tease him, of course. A Prime ought to be above such concerns.

Yet still…

A human had needed help, and Optimus’s very presence – once described as a comfort by Jack when the boy thought he couldn’t hear – was enough to almost instil a fear in you so profound, you’d have sooner braved the cold emptiness of a desert and your own exhaustion than accept his aid.

Optimus eases his engine to a constant, steady hum as he drives down Highway 49, his weary passenger secured inside his alt mode. Distantly, he notes how some of his custodial protocols have settled back to lay dormant amongst his codes once again, the same protocols that rear their heads like spitting cobras whenever he sees one of the children in danger.

But for now, there is no danger, and so, contented, the Prime allows himself to cruise at a lax pace towards the distant, twinkling lights appearing on the dark horizon.

Jasper.

You mentioned that your journey ends at the dairy pastures out towards the East of town, where well-watered fields of grass are nestled beneath the shadows cast by enormous, twisting rock spires.

But why are you heading there in the first place?

The silence inside his cab starts to grow stifling. And although the quiet doesn’t bother him in the least, Optimus is conscious of your bouncing leg, and the small, quivering fingers kneading anxiously around the straps of the bag you’ve yet to remove.

It doesn’t look heavy… The note you left on the window of your truck claimed that the vehicle is all you have, and he has no doubt that what little else you might call yours is tucked safely within the leather rucksack that’s currently pinned between your spine and Optimus’s seat.

It may not look heavy, but neither does it look particularly comfortable.

Beneath the shell of armour and metal parts concealing his face, Optimus feels his brow plates twitch in their attempt to furrow gently towards one another.

“Perhaps you’d-“ he starts, only to hurriedly cut the feedback to his voice box when you promptly go rigid against his seat, your drooping, crimson-tinted eyes flying open to roll around his cabin like a spooked equine mammal. “My apologies,” he amends contritely, letting his voice drop to such an unobtrusive pitch, it almost mingles with the purr of his engine, “I only meant to tell you, there is ample room in the footwell for your belongings…”

Leaving an indicative silence in his wake, Optimus regards you curiously as you tighten your grip on the tattered, leather straps slung over your shoulders, though your gaze does flick down to survey the space around your shoes.

You may have traded your name for his, but it’s clear you’re still wound up tighter than a coiled spring.

“Oh,” you eventually murmur, and he’s pleased to see your white-knuckle grasp go slack.

As you begin to slowly slide the bag from your shoulders, every movement stiff and uncertain, Optimus nonetheless lets out an approving hum and returns his senses to the road ahead, though his focus remains almost entirely on the soft speck of warmth shifting around in his passenger seat.

Not for the first time, Optimus is struck by how much larger cybertronians are than humans. Even when you lean forwards and lower your rucksack down towards his footwell, his sensors barely register your presence.

At least your weight is more substantial than Rafael’s, he muses.

Once, during a rare but pleasant occurrence in which he was the only bot available to shuttle their tiniest member from school to the Base, Optimus had tried – and failed – to refrain from checking that the boy was still safely strapped in his passenger seat every ten nanoclicks.

Giving his engine a rev to shake himself from the memory, Optimus speaks again, mindful to keep his volume low this time. “May I ask you something, Y/n?”

He watches as you finally relinquish your hold on the bag, letting it drop with the utmost care into the space by your feet. “Of course,” you say genially, turning less and less guarded as the warmth of his cab envelopes you, beckoning you towards a much-needed rest.

“What brings you to Jasper?”

Small talk is hardly Optimus’s forte, but the nature of your unfortunate circumstances had shifted something deep within his spark and left it murmuring unhappily behind his colossal chassis.

Oblivious to the Prime’s concern, you cast another doleful glance towards the driver’s side, leaning back until your shoulders just barely ghost the fabric of your seat. “Only business, I’m afraid,” you offer, vaguely, “Nothing exciting. What about you? Are you based out here?”

“I am,” your mysterious driver responds just as concisely before he swings the topic back around to you, much to your dismay, “But this… Terry-“ He says the name as if it’s entirely foreign to him, like a word in another language that he isn’t sure how to pronounce. “-Is he a friend of yours?”

Puffing out your cheeks, you raise a hand, pivoting it lazily from side to side. “Not exactly…” you eke out. After a moment mulling it over further, you let your hand flop down into your lap again with a sigh. “Actually, no, not at all. He’s barely an acquaintance. I’ve only spoken to him once over the phone when he called to offer me a job.”

Optimus is too slow to mute the heavy hum that rolls through him, reverberating across his cabin and up through your seat.

You must pick up on his apprehension because you quirk one corner of your lips and exhale through a humourless chuckle. “I know… Ironic, isn’t it? I didn’t want to hop in a stranger’s truck, but I’ll travel all the way to Nevada to work for a guy I’ve spoken to once.”

Inwardly, Optimus fights back a frown. Soon enough, his cab is once again filled by his rich, mellow tone, just a few iotas shy of admonishing. “I assume you must have had a good reason for coming here.”

At that, you bark out a slightly louder harrumph. “I have a reason,” you admit before dropping your voice and tugging your brows together until they pucker at the middle of your forehead, gazing solemnly out through the windscreen, “Still haven’t figured out if it’s a good one or not…”

Frowning at the distant lights of Jasper, you miss the way the semi’s rearview mirror twitches microscopically to bring you into centre-frame.

The Prime casts his hidden optics discreetly over your strained expression.

Jaw cinched tight… Hands curled rigidly over your knees. Your whole frame is hunched in on itself, shoulders lifting towards your ears as if you mean to hide between them…

He doesn’t need to scan your vitals to know that your amygdala has just kicked itself up a gear.

You’re scared. And this time, something tells him that he isn’t the cause.

“Perhaps,” he starts slowly, waiting for you to unclench your jaw in response to his voice, “I could offer a third-party perspective.”

Snorting quietly, you reply, “To help me work out if I’m doing the wrong thing?”

“It may ease your troubles to share them,” he offers considerately, having to override the urge to send a soothing stroke through your EM field – or lack thereof.

Sometimes, Optimus finds himself stumped for how to connect with humans on the same level as he can Cybertronians. It’s through no fault of their own, nor his. It simply comes down to a difference in biology.

With the latter, he can so clearly convey a feeling or notion through the electrical impulses cast out by his matrix, and the spark housing it.

Oftentimes, he’ll have to brush his field against Ratchet’s when the agitated medic starts kicking out frustration and, so often, despair. He more frequently does the same to Bumblebee if ever the youngling grows despondent from Rafael’s absence. Arcee’s bouts of fury at the Decpticons, and Bulkhead’s ferocious protectiveness over Miko… Prime has felt it all, brought them into his field, and countered with a presence intended to calm and reassure without having to offer a single word.

But humans… They’re more difficult to soothe.

He has to go by tone and expression alone. The children are easier to read, but adults are a different story; masters at hiding their truest and most vulnerable thoughts behind facades they’ve had years to perfect.

How often has he caught himself trying to wrap Jack, Miko and Raf up inside his solicitous EM field before he remembers they’re human children, not sparklings? They can’t feel his energies like a Cybertronian would.

But regardless, he hopes they know that despite maintaining a poised and collected exterior, Optimus has a spark that’s familiarised itself well with their own, precious heartbeats.

He’s pulled from his musings by your soft, sardonic laugh. “What’re you gonna charge me the going rate of a therapist?” you joke, giving the empty driver’s seat a wry smile.

“I would never dream of charging you for anything,” he insists at once, so sincere that you think he either missed the joke entirely or he’s trying to bulldoze through your defences simply by being nice.

“Good,” you hum, “Because I couldn’t afford a minute of time with a therapist, let alone a whole session. Spent the last of what I had on fuel just to get here.”

“If you require financial aid,” Optimus tells you resolutely, “I would be happy to provide it.”

There are responses you’d expect to hear, and then there are those that make you choke on your own spit.

Lurching upright in your seat, your brows shoot up towards your hairline and you whip your torso around to gawk at the invisible driver. “What!?” you all but blurt, throwing an arm out to steady yourself against the dashboard. “What the- What!?”

The vehicle around you seems to churr apologetically.

“Ah… forgive me,” Optimus hedges, sounding uncharacteristically contrite, “Have I offended you?”

Blinking in rapid succession, you flap your mouth open and closed wordlessly for a few seconds, reeling your heat back up from the bottom of your shoes. “Wh-I… No,” you stammer at last, shaking your head, “No, no. I’m not offended, I’m just..”

Cutting yourself off to huff out an incredulous laugh, you press a few fingers to your temple, rubbing at it tenderly. “Christ, you’re a hoot, Optimus.”

A quick search on the internet only serves to baffle Optimus further. And as he attempts to make the connection between himself and a nocturnal bird of prey, you drag a hand down your face and let out another disbelieving little chuckle.

“Scooping me up in the dead of night, and now you’re offering me money… People will talk.”

Flicking the information on Strigiformes from his HUD, Optimus politely returns his attention to you and asks, “Is it unusual to offer money to those in need?”

“Not if that they’re a charity,” you clarify, the smile on your face turning limp as you shoot his seat a glare that lacks any kind of heat, “I’m not a charity, Optimus. I’m just an idiot who can’t keep a job.”

The truck’s engine suddenly kicks out a guttural growl just as it’s driver firmly states, “You are far from an idiot, Y/n. And… my offer still stands.”

“An offer I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline,” you counter, though the frown on your face is slowly being replaced by a tentative smile, “Look, I appreciate the offer. I do. But you’re already going above and beyond to help someone you don’t know. If you keep being so nice to me, I’ll start thinking you came from the sky!”

All of a sudden, the semi’s brakes dip, only a little, barely enough to jostle you from your seat, but enough that you hastily glance out the windscreen to see if he had to slow for an obstruction in the road.

In the background, Optimus’s speakers give a burst of static before he forces out, “I don’t… The sky?”

“Yeah,” you answer blithely, “You know, like an angel.”

A hush falls over the cab as Optimus processes your words. After a time, the only think of any substance he can come up with is a soft, considering, “Oh…”

The same quiet settles itself over your shoulders, weighing them down, and you start to wonder if you’ve inadvertently insulted your mysterious driver by rejecting his offer too harshly. Before you can open your mouth to try and salvage your standing with him however, he clears his throat and utters, “You flatter me.”

“Do I?” you ask, sinking back into the seat and turning to peer out of the window, glad he doesn’t sound affronted, “Sorry if I seem out of practice, you’re the first person I’ve spoken to in… in a while.”

Optimus goes silent again, leaving you to listen to the rumble of his semi’s tyres travelling over the tarmac for several, lonely moments until he speaks again.

“You’re lonely,” he deduces, so gently and so condolingly that something in your chest gives a squeeze. Then, once again, just as you take a breath to protest his assumption, he asks, “Y/n? Why did you leave your home to come here?”

“… Ah…” Sucking a breath through your teeth, you sit up, lifting your back off the comfortable seat, much to Optimus’s private dismay, “Well, that’s… that’s a long and boring story,” you try to laugh.

As if in response, the truck slows down a few notches until the needle hovers over the forty mark. “I’ll wager it isn’t boring at all,” he prompts, “And I’m not going anywhere.”

The tension in your brows starts to cause an ache, and you stuff your teeth into your bottom lip to distract yourself. “It really is a classic,” you chuckle, wholly intent on brushing his concern aside, “You’ve probably heard it a hundred times before. Straight from the runaway’s handbook.”

Softly, the strange but kind man chides you. “Y/n…”

A lump starts to form in your throat but you force another laugh through it, pulling your chin from your knuckles to aim a look over your shoulder, hoping that his cameras don’t pick up your quivering lip. “Wait… Are you actually a therapist?” you joke, “Is that your day job?”

“Please?”

With a single word, your mouth snaps shut.

Swallowing, you try to bristle defensively, wishing you weren’t so hatefully tired and vulnerable that a simple ‘please’ could knock down a wall of indifference. “Come on, Optimus,” you scoff weakly, “I’m not about to offload my baggage onto a stranger. And we both know you’re not really interested.”

Unheard by you, a strong puff of hot air blasts from the semi’s smokestacks.

“I am loathe to contradict you, youngling,” he retorts, briefly throwing you off with the unusual word, “But I am interested. If you are in some sort of trouble-?“

At once, your spine turns stiff and you cut him off with a scowl, snapping waspishly, “-Who says I’m in trouble?”

Somehow, when he falls silent this time, he manages to exude an air of mild objurgation, and you can’t help but feel like a teenager again, slinking home well after midnight to find your parents still up and waiting for your return.

The comparison humbles you, takes some of the wind out of your ruffled sails.

Optimus’s pointed silence sinks over the cab like a thick, cumbersome blanket, too itchy. You want to throw it off.

Sullen, you swivel yourself back to face the window and lean your forehead against the cool glass, frowning out at the silver-soaked desert drifting by. Your mysterious stranger’s semi drives so smoothly, you can’t even feel the bumps.

But you can feel Optimus’s eyes upon you… somehow, as though he’s just waiting for you to make the next move.

Shifting in your seat, you stubbornly ignore the awkward silence, but it isn’t long before that awkwardness evolves into a kernel of guilt that embeds itself under your ribcage.

Here’s a man who so far, has been nothing but cordial and helpful to you. Hell, even downright generous. All he’s asked of you in return is to hear your reason for being here.

And what did you do?

You threw his – likely genuine – interest back in his proverbial face.

But to tell him…-

‘-Oh, don’t be so melodramatic,’ you scold yourself, ‘You’re not that exciting. You could have been through far worse, after all.’

Resisting the impulse to groan aloud, you knock your forehead gently against the window, considering.

For his part, Optimus doesn’t press you, he doesn’t clear his throat or try to change the subject, he just… waits.

And finally, alongside a great heave of your chest and a woebegone sigh, his patience is rewarded.

“You ever feel… like…” Squinting, you work the sentence over in your mouth before pushing it past reluctant teeth, “Like you’re not living up to everyone’s expectations?”

If you had any idea who you’d just asked that question of, you might have realised what the sudden lurch of his engine means.

Chalking it up to the truck changing gears, you peel yourself away from the window and stare down at your lap, fingers absently fiddling with one another. “It’s like… Okay, so, you know how people around you always say, ‘just try your best, that’s all you can do?”

When it becomes clear that you’re actually poised, expecting an answer, Optimus ventures a careful, “I have heard that many a time, yes.”

“And you want to try your best for them, right? You want to be a better person?”

“Of course,” he says far more easily, only to hesitate when you go still and your face crumples.

“But… you don’t want it badly enough...” you eke out slowly.

“…I’m sorry?”

“You don’t want it badly enough to actually put any effort into being that person, you know?”

This time, Optimus doesn’t offer a response.

You almost want to smile. Of course he doesn’t know. Look at him. Picking up a random stranger in the night to drive you where you need to go, offering a sympathetic ear to listen to your troubles, offering money when you tell him you lost your job… If he put effort into being better, they’d have to make him a Saint.

“I wasn’t… giving my best,” you finally sigh at the centre console, “At my job, at home… I knew I wasn’t giving my best, and I didn’t try to. I had everyone fooled into thinking that what I was giving them was all I had…. But it wasn’t…”

Suddenly, your eyes blur over with stinging, salty tears, and you duck your head at once, frowning angrily at yourself, “Not even close.”

Optimus murmurs your name, but you can’t bear to let him try and say anything kind to you now, not when you’ve just plucked at such a tender wound, and kindness would only rip the scab off sooner than you’re ready to let it bleed.

“I was, um… I was late to work one morning at my old job,” you clear your throat, sweeping a finger roughly under your eyelid, “Overslept. That was grounds for firing me. Lost my apartment because I couldn’t make the rent anymore… When I eventually bit the bullet and went home to tell dad, he…”

Your voice fades out, clogged by the memory of that day so many weeks ago, another in a long line of disappointments you’d walked over your parents’ welcome mat.

But Optimus is still waiting, still reserving his judgement until you finish, so you take a breath, remind yourself that all of this is nobody’s fault but your own, and continue. “I think… it was slowly killing my father to see his kid wasting a perfectly good life instead of being the person he thought I’d become.”

You try so hard to remain aloof, but the late hour, the solitary journey, this stranger’s amicable nature… Something akin to a shard of glass wedges its point under the soft tissue of your heart.

And jabs.

Suppressing a wince, you plaster nonchalance into a shrug and sniff, “So, I figured if he couldn’t see me, like at all, he might… be happier.” It’s hard to admit, just as it was when you made the decision to leave your house that night and set out to find your own way in the great, wide world.

Finally, just as the semi drives past a large, green sign that reads ‘Jasper city limits,’ Optimus’s voice rumbles through the speakers.

“You left your home,” he begins slowly, “Because you thought you might disappoint your father?”

Close.

You left because you knew you already had.

Not just him either.

Partnerless, childless, you’ve been drifting through life by yourself on the path of least resistance, and every year, you grow older, and you watched your mother and father grow older too.

Leaning your head back against the seat, you nearly let your eyes slip shut before remembering you’re supposed to be staying awake, pinning them open to peer up at the blue light reflected off a dark ceiling.

“… Does he at least know where you are?”

You smile sadly, rolling your neck around to your other shoulder and giving the empty driver’s seat a heavy-lidded blink. “He knows I’ll be okay.”

Just then, the seatbelt seems to grow ever so slightly tauter around you, just enough that you can feel it press against your abdomen, but so briefly that you can’t be sure it isn’t your chest hitching.

“He must be worried about you,” Optimus prompts.

Shrugging, you turn back to face the window. “Like I said, he knows I’ll bounce back. I… usually do. I mean I have done so far.”

Another disquieted hum trickles out of the speakers.

“That’s why I had to get to the dairy tonight,” you sniffle, blinking hard as the truck passes beneath the first street-light, bringing you safely within the city outskirts, “I have to make sure Terry thinks I’m worth keeping on as a farm-hand. If I’m late on my first day and he decides I’m not worth it…”  Your hands ball into clenched fists in your lap and you grit your teeth, determined not to let your misty eyes spill all over Optimus’s seats.

“I need this job,” you croak, more to yourself now than your invisible listener, “Not sure how many bounces I’ve got left in me.”

This time, you’re certain the seatbelt tightens. You even spare it a glance when it doesn’t slacken again, and you force your fists apart to slide your fingers beneath the fabric, gently working it loose.

Optimus is barely aware of your touch. “You should try to contact your father,” he says at last, “I’m certain that if he hears of your circumstances, and learns why you left and where you are, he’ll be able to help you.”

He watches you blink, frowning suddenly and sitting up to give his side of the cab a baffled look. Slowly, your expression opens up as a realisation dawns on you, one not yet privy to the mech.

“Oh,” you say, mildly surprised, “You think it was only my decision to leave.”

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

Optimus doesn’t know which is worse.

That you could feel like such a burden to your family, you thought leaving would make them happy.

Or the fact that your family had done nothing to stop you from walking out the door.

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

There aren’t a great many things that a Prime is permitted to regret.

That does not, however, make them incapable of regret. Only the admission of it.

By the time Optimus’s gargantuan tyres turn onto the long, sandy driveway of Terry’s Dairy, he realises he’s added one more contrition to his ever-growing list. He’s gone behind your back, turned a blind optic to your wishes and invaded your privacy in a way that made the matrix in his chassis squirm and howl.

But it’s all he could think to do for you at short notice, he laments, short of carting you back to the silo and ensuring you get some proper rest. Ratchet would probably take one look at your vitals and order a week of inactivity. Then he’d likely tear Optimus a new finial for bringing yet another human into their fold.

It would be counterproductive, he supposes. After all, the Decepticons aren’t aware of your existence, and affiliating yourself with the Autobots will only paint a target on your back.

No, leaving you here is for the best, he reasons, though he resolves to avoid going behind your back again in the future.

He also resolves to make the drive up to the pastures part of his weekly patrol… Not for any particular reason – it’s possible the Decepticons also prowl along these old roads… And if, on his way by, he happens to cast a glance over and see you, well… All the better.

“Are you certain you’ll be alright?” he asks for the umpteenth time as he trundles to a stop in front of a modest, wooden farmhouse, his headlights bathing the little white porch in their dazzling glow.

Giving a jovial roll of your eyes, you haul your rucksack out of the footwell and reach down to press the seatbelt release, having to jab at it with your thumb a few times before it eventually relents and lets go of the metal buckle.

“Don’t you worry about me,” you tell him stoutly as you reach for the door handle. That too, you struggle to open, tugging at it with no success until the lock promptly goes ‘click’ and the door swings open of its own accord.

Clicking your tongue at the temperamental tech, you arduously slide yourself from the seat and swing the rucksack over a shoulder, climbing backwards down the steps. “You just worry about getting this truck in tip-top shape. Sounded like the engine had a mind of its own.”

Dropping the last foot to the ground, your knees threaten to buckle, but you manage to remain upright, stepping back to smile up into the cab before the door tugs itself shut.

Right on cue, the semi’s idling engine lets out a noisy rev, instantly drawing a laugh out of you.

“Ha!” you grin, “Yeah, just like-”

You’re promptly interrupted by an unexpected commotion from the house.

Whipping your head towards the porch, you let out a yelp as the screen door suddenly bursts open, and from the darkness comes barrelling a short, stocky man wearing nothing but a pair of pyjama shorts, a single shoe, and a ferocious snarl.

But most alarmingly of all, is the shiny, side-by-side shotgun held aloft in his arms, the stock braced against his shoulder and one, keen eye staring straight down the sights.

All the moisture in your mouth dries up when you realise those long, glinting barrels are aimed directly at you.

“What the-!?” is all you can bleat out.

Without a moment’s warning, the truck beside you roars to life and suddenly lurches forwards on its wheels, thrusting itself like a wall of metal into the space between you and the gun-toting farmer.

“Wh- Optimus!” you exclaim, trying to stand on your toes to fruitlessly see over the semi’s grill. “Terry!? Is that you!?”

“I told you sons of bitches,” the incensed man hollers, “F’I ever caught you tryn’a mess with my cows again, I’d-!”

“Terry!” Stepping sideways, you attempt to move around Optimus’s semi, only for the truck to roll forwards, keeping you hidden safely behind its bumper.

“Optimus, stop it,” you hiss, planting a palm on the warm, thundering hood and darting around the front of his truck, too quickly for him to move forwards again lest he squash you beneath his radiator.

Lifting your voice, you hurriedly call out, “Terry, i-it’s me! Y/n? We spoke on the phone! About the job!”

You’re met with a stunned silence as you manage to skirt around to the other side of the semi’s bumper, keeping your hand on the metal as if that alone could keep the ten-tonne machine at bay.

Finally, ‘Terry’ comes into view, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you meet his steely glare through the sights.

Then, just as swiftly, he blinks, and the gun drops almost at once, his face bursting open in surprise. “Y/n? That you, kid?” he calls.

The palpable relief almost brings you to your knees. Taking your hand off the truck’s grill, you step forwards, eyeing the gun warily as it dangles at the farmer’s side. “Yeah, it’s me… Sorry.”

“Goddammit, Kid! You about gave me a damn heart attack!”

“I gave you a heart attack!?” Expelling a shaky breath, you card your fingers through your messy hair and add, “Jesus, Terry. Was the gun really necessary?”  

There’s a line of sweat beading on the farmer’s wispy brow as he flicks his gaze between you and the revved-up truck lurking behind you. After a moment of squinting, he returns his eyes to you. “Can’t be too careful,” he grunts, “This old thing ain’t even loaded. Just use it to scare away some damn kids who’ve been comin’ round here and spookin’ up my herds.”

True to his word, Terry breaks the shotgun’s barrels, flipping the gun around in his hands to show you the empty chambers.

At that moment, as if he’d been waiting to determine that the danger had passed, Optimus puts his semi in reverse, rolling it backwards over the sand as you turn to watch him leave, absently raising a hand to wave farewell as he turns the truck around.

Just before he does, the semi’s headlights blink once, then twice, on and off, a farewell in his own right, before its wheels carry it around in the spacious yard and it begins to drive, leaving the way it had come, back up the lonely, sand-choked track.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Terry breathes, draping a wrist over his forehead and letting out an incredulous chuckle, “The Angel…” Tearing his eyes off the truck’s retreating taillights, he stares over at you, mouth crooked into a lopsided grin. “How the Hell’d you get a ride with the goddamn Angel?”

“I’m sorry,” you sputter, eyelashes flickering in disbelief, “Angel?”  

Terry’s expression morphs from giddy excitement to a wistful, faraway gaze. “The Angel of Highway Forty-Nine,” he says breathlessly, his eyes sharpening once again as he turns them back onto you, “He’s a legend. Just showed up one day in that big ol’ truck of his. Noone knows who he is or where he came from! A ghost, that’s what folks say, who drives his rig up and down the roads around Jasper. Never stoppin’ for gas. Never gettin’ to where he’s goin.”

Suddenly, his demeanour shifts again, and he closes the distance between you, lowering his voice conspiratorially and lifting his hand up to his mouth as if to shield the words from prying ears. Though the only ears you can see are those of the cows watching sleepily from their barn, no doubt awoken by the ruckus. “I know folks who swear, when they drive past him on the road, they look, but not one of ‘em has ever seen a person behind that windscreen!”

“Oh my,” you return, feigning intrigue with a tired expertise, “That’s spooky. But… maybe the glass is just tinted?”

Terry leans backwards out of your bubble, spreading his arms wide and pursing his lips. “Maybe,” he concedes, only to immediately drop his arms again, and you watch in mild concern as his face splits into a wide, borderline-manic grin, “Or maybe… He’s an alien, and that big rig there?” He points the barrel of his shotgun down the farm track at the spot where Optimus had disappeared. “That’s his craft.”

…. Ah.

Paying dutiful attention, you follow his line of sight, eyebrows high on your head and a carefully pensive gaze laid bare for Terry to see.

“His craft?” you echo, “You mean like a spaceship?”

The old farmer’s face lights up and his eyes zero in on you like a car salesman who’s just spotted a clueless customer stumbling into his showroom.

It took twenty minutes for Terry to show you to the little annex you’d be living in from now on. And only another five for you to thank him profusely for giving you this chance, bid him goodnight, shuck off your shoes and rucksack and finally, finally flop face-first onto the bed. A real bed. With pillows and sheets and a blanket. Not the bed of an old pickup truck and a coat tossed over your legs for warmth.

Rolling onto your back, you splay your arms out on either side of you, sending a tiny smile up at the ceiling.

“Alien… Ha,” you laugh softly. Terry’s a character. Decent enough, but the scent of stale beer and hops lingering on his breath when he leaned in close stole some of the credence from his theory.

Now, Angel… you can get behind. Optimus had shown up right when you needed him, after all, even if you couldn’t see it for yourself at the time.

Ah, but Optimus is the good sort. And good sorts tend to drift to where they’re needed, helping out wherever they can. You’re not the good sort. You just muddle on through and go wherever you can, helping out where your help is invited.

You resolve to bite the bullet and just check how much is in your current account. See if you’ve got enough in there to hire a tow, or a friendly farmer with a tractor and a rope…

The passcode screen flicks away, and you’re left blinking tiredly at the figure on top of the page.

You blink once.

Then again, harder.

Then you promptly drop the phone onto the bed with a soft ‘whump.’

Snatching it back up, you gape at the screen, drop it again, then throw your hands over your mouth in abject horror.

There must be some mistake. You’re dreaming, you fell asleep, and this is a dream, surely to god!?

A third check yields the same results, and once again, you toss the phone away from you to the foot of the bed, staring after it as if it might come alive at any moment.

No matter how hard you squeeze your fingernails into your scalp, you can’t wake up from whatever twisted fantasy you’ve stumbled into.

The numbers and words are burned into your retinas, flashing dimly every time you blink.

‘$10,000 has been added to your account.’

[spirantization]

"Wild Blue Yonder" dealt with some of the emotional fallout of the Flux, so I want to rewind a bit and look at what that means for the Doctor.

I know that the Timeless Child and the Flux are contentious topics. I'm not here to argue either way. But now those storylines have decisively not been retconned, and with both of these fresh in my memory, I feel the need to offer some context for anyone who may not have seen it, and to recontextualize it for myself and anyone who has.

NotDonna: You don't know where you're from. The Doctor: How do you know that? How does anyone know? How does Donna know?

In "The Timeless Children", we find out that the Doctor was discovered as a child alone under a wormhole, and adopted by a woman named Tecteun. There was an accident where the Doctor fell from a cliff and regenerated, and subsequently Tecteun performed "experiments" on them to try to understand regeneration. The show minces words about this but she killed a child a whole bunch of times is what happened. Her experiments created the Time Lords and allow them to engineer their regeneration properties. The Doctor has no memory of any of this, and only finds out via the Master and information stored in the Time Lord Matrix.

The Doctor, predictably, doesn't tell anyone about this revelation. She makes a speech to the Master about how this makes her more, we get a single shot of her looking a bit tired in the TARDIS, then she immediately gets thrown in prison.

Ultimately, the Doctor doesn't know where they're from or who their parents are. And the very fact that they're not from Gallifrey is information that no one in the universe should have. Everyone who knew is now dead.

NotDonna: I saw it in your head. The Flux. The Doctor: It destroyed half the universe because of me. We stand here now, on the edge of creation, a creation which I devastated, so yes I keep running, of course I do! How am I supposed to look back on that? NotDonna: It wasn't your fault! The Doctor: I know!

A fun fact about the Flux is that the Doctor did not cause it. So why does he blame himself? Because the person who caused the Flux was Tecteun.

The reason why Tecteun wanted to destroy the universe is because the Doctor interfered with things too much. Too much morality. Too inspirational to people. She calls them a virus. So her solution to the problem of the Doctor is to destroy the universe, with the Doctor inside, and take her ship to a different universe to start fresh. She also was the one to steal all the Doctor's memories of previous lives in the first place. She's dismissive and patronizing and clearly does not care about the Doctor on an emotional level at all. Tecteun is a piece of work, and the implications of her actions and how they've shaped the Doctor have the potential to go deep.

Thirteen doesn't get too much of a chance to react to any of this, because there is plot going on. And shortly after they reunite, Tecteun gets killed by a different villain. So there was no emotional closure in the moment, and there's now no possibility for the Doctor to make sense of her actions. The Doctor does not tell any of her friends about any of these events. She keeps promising to tell Yaz but does not.

"Wild Blue Yonder" is the first time we, as the audience, hear the Doctor discuss the Flux. And their perception of events is skewed at best. The Flux wasn't caused because the Doctor made a mistake and a lot of people were killed, which is what you can argue for many other situations. The Flux and the devastation of the universe was caused by their mother, who promptly turned around and told them it was their fault for being such an interfering nuisance. We know that the Doctor is often an unreliable narrator, but this is beyond that. These are the words of an abused child who has internalized the narrative that the abuse was their fault.

So the Doctor being able to talk about this with Donna, who has seen what happened, who knows him, and tells him that it's not his fault — it means so much to him. He wants it to be her so badly. And then NotDonna laughs in his face. You can see the devastation. He thinks for one moment that he can finally talk about this with his best friend, and it's snatched away from him. He gives himself a moment to break down in the corridor, and then you can see the walls rebuilding as he suppresses it all again.

At the very end of the episode, back in the TARDIS, he's trying very very hard to be nonchalant. I'm curious. The NotDonna could remember all these things that happened to me while we were apart. Can you? Just wondering. Things happened, but I'll be fine. In a million years. It's not a joke.

He wants so badly to be able to talk about this. You can see it in all the lines of his body language. He's keeping himself together but is prepared to fall apart in an instant. He doesn't want to actually tell anyone, but if Donna just magically knew already, and could tell him it wasn't his fault — well, that would make the world of difference. But she doesn't know, and he can't bring himself to tell her. And so the cycle continues.

[aheathen-conceivably]

Val’s car was no where to be seen outside the farmhouse, and hadn’t been for weeks. Jo had returned it to her soon after their first tour ended, and day after day it had felt good not to worry about packing her suitcase or driving again. Restful, if she was being honest. Like finding shelter in a windstorm as you waited for it to pass, appreciating simple comforts all the more because you knew you would be out in the open again soon.

When she had gotten home, no part of her had expected the weeks to pass so quickly. She certainly hadn’t expected them to be so enjoyable, especially not after the freedom she had found on the road. Even from the moment she had parked the car, she could still feel the movement of the wheels beneath her heels and the thought of the next tour on her mind. Stepping inside, she was afraid it would never abate; but every passing day since then had been like the best of the years she had spent on the farm, only without the nagging disquiet she had felt then.

Maybe it was because part of her knew that she didn’t have to be there. She wanted to. In those moments her happiness felt simple, governed by a quiet and warm joy rather than rushes of success or power. For the first time since she had come here from New Orleans, she felt as though she could truly enjoy it, because the tethers tying her down were those of her own choices and not begrudging dependence.

Even the simple chores she had once hated had taken on a pleasant edge. They had once felt like desperation; small vestiges of survival at the cost of life, or a matrix designed to keep her hands forever busy and her feet in place. Now, if her nails chipped or her fingers cracked, she had not only the time to tend to them, but reason to. There was an end to it all, a routine of her own making that gave the drudgery meaning and the domesticity warmth.

Perhaps it was precisely because she had been allowed to sate her restlessness that she felt so content to sit still now. Night after night her mind was calm and free from the compulsion to get in a car and drive. Somewhere, just below the surface, she knew that it was there, but she didn’t have to fight it just to be happy.

She actually found herself feeling sorry that her weeks at home were coming to an end; but the excited butterflies at the thought told her that she wanted those weeks of freedom and success just as much as she wanted this. It was like the best of two lives: the one that Gio wanted for himself and she for herself, suspended precariously like a feather on the surface of the water.

She lifted herself up onto his lap, the knowledge that he would soon be here alone motivating her to stay all the closer. The fire crackled quietly in the background as he held her just far enough to look into her eyes when he spoke. “Wait here, okay? I’ll be gone just a moment. Keep your eyes closed until I’m back.”

Perhaps it was a testament to just how happy she was that she didn’t protest. Instead she lifted herself up onto the worn leather couch, crossing her legs in girlish excitement as she blindly listened to him rustle through their bedroom. As his footsteps reentered the room she ignored the temptation to snap her eyes open, instead letting him slip his hand over her face and acquiescing to his request to hold her hands out for him.

As he moved his hands off her eyes and told her to open them, he placed a small, light box into her hands. Before she even pulled at the carefully tied strings, she could already tell that it was something far too expensive to have come from this town. “I know that your birthday isn’t for a few weeks, but since your next tour is before then I didn’t want it to come too late.”

She left the box unopened, instead turning to look at his excited face. “Gio. I can already tell it’s too expensive. Whatever it is. The farm, the tours…and it’s not like I need a present. I - I’ll be closer to forty than thirty. I don’t think it’s much of a reason to celebrate…”

“Nonsense. We’re in a better place than we’ve been in years thanks to you. Besides. I made sure to get something useful. Go on, open it.”

Her worried eyes stayed trained on his, half-heartedly protesting once again before he quieted her by gently leaning her head back toward him. “I’m sure, Jo. Now try them on before I spoil it and tell you what it is.”

She opened the small box to reveal a pair of delicately embossed leather driving gloves, unworn and in such a distinct color that she had to assume they had been custom made just for her. They were red, just like her nails always were now, so that even when she wore them they wouldn’t obscure the color beneath.

Gio rounded the couch as she held them up to the firelight, admiring how the color shined so brightly on the thin leather. As she ran her hand along them, appreciating just how soft and expensive they felt, he dropped to one knee next to her, taking her hand in his as he carefully fitted each glove around her fingers.

As he turned her gloved hand over in his own, it was hard for her not to see the significance of what he was doing. Bent down on one knee, openly and lovingly admiring what could only be seen as a symbol of her independence from him. How much he may have wished it was a ring instead, it pained her too much to ask.

“Do you like them? The saleswoman seemed to think the color was a foolish choice, but I tried to tell her it wouldn’t be for you.”

She could already see one glove wrapped tightly around the black leather sheering wheel, the other dangling delicately from the side of the car. Instead she brought it to Gio’s cheek. “I love them. I love you.” An overwhelming ache filled her chest and threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She wasn’t sure whether to be joyful or terrified; because in that moment, she knew just how much it would always be true.

Previous / Next

[magneticallyyours]

Seeing how you are interested in writing Matrix pics, you won't mind writing some relationship headcanons for Neo (I love this hackerman so much)

Thanks btw!

Of course!! Sorry for the extremely late response, I die on this website quite often ;-;

I hope this is what you wanted, I did both red and bluepill Neo!

As you can probably tell after reading, I've never written headcanons in my life

✰✰ Neo relationship headcanons✰✰

->Bluepill

Neo would be too absorbed in his double life as a programmer and as Neo for a relationship, at the start. But then he met you.

It was nothing at first, but as time went on, he noticed you were always on his mind, one way or another. Being lectured by his boss, writing code? Anything? He wondered what you were up to. It drove him crazy.

He would try to deny his feelings. Definitely not the one to confess first. He'd sit around wallowing until you confessed, and even then he'd be like a deer caught in headlights.

If you weren't a hacker like him, he'd be more worried. Now he had to factor in his actions causing you harm, in some way.

Worry or no worry, that wouldn't change what he felt about you. He'd be attentive whenever you talked. He would ask about your day. If you were tired, he would rub your shoulders without hesitation.

He would almost always be the little spoon, unless you wanted it otherwise.

Sometimes he'd surprise you by renting movies to watch together at home. Blankets, microwave popcorn and snuggles should go without saying.

Once he warmed up to you, he’d be very needy. He'd love morning kisses and hugs. His love language? Words of affirmation.

Slowly, he would start taking better care of his clothes, hair, appearance to impress you.

He'd try his best to be a good partner, searching for “cute gifts for valentine's day” and the like because my man is CLUELESS.

His work being as it is, you might find him sleeping at his desk more often than not. He would be flustered in the morning, noticing the blanket you'd put on his shoulders.

Sometimes when you do that he wakes up. But he keeps his eyes closed anyway, just barely holding back a smile.

He'd be willing to learn and try new things, just for you.

->Redpill

Outside of the Matrix, Neo would more or less be just as loving as he was inside of it.

Only he'd be much, much more protective. He wouldn't want you to run into trouble. It was always an uneasy feeling he had.

He would train with you when he could manage it. Neo always learnt things from you, and taught you things in return.

Don't be surprised if you wake up and find him holding you tight, he'll be doing that a lot more now.

You're one of the many reasons he wants to end the war and save humanity, he would never want to see you hurt.

Whenever he slept, he slept with the hope that he could wake up to your face the next morning.

Forget being The One-

He wants to be the one for you more than anything.

[youremyheaven]

Punarvasu & Swati: Cosmogony, Reality & Consciousness

Punarvasu and Swati are deeply intertwined nakshatras with very similar patterns and themes. Punarvasu's deity Goddess Aditi embodies infinity and vast primordial space. She is boundless and limitless. Swati's deity Vayu is the ruler of air & wind and connected to the life force or prana (or qi).

Both these nakshatras connect to space, infinity, abundance and are known for being wealth giving nakshatras.

Ruth Handler, the inventor of Barbie had Swati Sun & Mercury along with Ketu in Punarvasu

Margot Robbie who played Barbie has Swati Moon & Punarvasu Rising

I had briefly mentioned this in my Tomie post but Swati & Punarvasu's themes are manifest in Barbie because Barbie is not a person, she is a type of doll, and she can be anyone or anything. Barbie is a whole universe into herself, this is the cosmic abundance and infinitude of Swati & Punarvasu.

My Tomie post also talks about how Tomie is a Punarvasu so do check that out!!

I have always thought that Punarvasu & Swati are related to time travel which makes sense provided the cosmic infinitude embodied in these naks.

Predestination, a time- travel movie starring Ethan Hawke who is Swati Sun (do watch it, its really good))

Bruce Willis has been in several time-travel movies, including 12 Monkeys & Looper. He has Jupiter in Punarvasu atmakaraka

The 1960 movie The Time Machine stars Rod Taylor who has Ketu in Swati.

The Terminator movies starring Arnold Schwarzenegger- Punarvasu stellium (mercury, venus & rising). Arnold like many Punarvasus have been in many sci-fi movies that concern the nature of reality, in fact his own autobiography is called Total Recall (he's been in a movie of the same name and its about what is real and what isn't- peak Punarvasu behaviour I must say)

Planet of the Apes stars Charlton Heston who has Punarvasu Moon, Swati Rising

Frequency stars Dennis Quaid who has Punarvasu Moon & Ketu

The Matrix/ The Lake House/Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure are all time travel movies starring Keanu Reeves who is Punarvasu Moon.

Its interesting to me that many Punarvasus have often spoken about "creating your reality".

Octavia Butler, the writer has Punarvasu Rising (the themes of this nak is vv apparent in her work but I'll perhaps discuss that in a future post) and this^^ is a page from her journal that she wrote in the 1970s wayyy before manifestation was a "thing".

Butler grew up very poor in an era of racial segregation and suffered from dyslexia. She overcame great odds to become one of the best-selling sci-fi novelists of all time.

Miranda Kerr- Punarvasu Moon often talks about the power of our thoughts and has referenced writers like David R Hawkins (who talks about the nature of consciousness) a lot. Here's a quote from her book.

“Start each day by saying to yourself: ‘How amazing it is to be alive! What a wondrous feeling I have inside! I am awake, healthy and full of joy!’ Visualise every cell in your body being filled with vitality, health and love.”- Treasure Yourself

Miranda grew up quite lower middle class on a farm in rural Australia and then went on to become one of the best known models in the world and is now married to a billionaire.

Arnold Schwarzenegger- Punarvasu Rising (and stellium)

If you've read his autobiography or watched his Netflix documentary yk that he talks constantly about the power of the mind, having focus etc

He grew up in a small town in Austria (after WW2) with an abusive father and also suffered from dyslexia. He then went on to become one of the biggest movie stars of all time and was the Governor of California???

Ariana Grande- Mercury in Punarvasu sings about manifestation and law of attraction quite a lot. She was a side character on a Nickelodeon show and 10yrs later she's one of the biggest pop- stars.

Nikola Tesla, Punarvasu Sun & Venus

Tesla discovered automatic current transmission & generation technology which is responsible for modern day wireless connections. He's also super Punarvasu core as a person, he had eidetic memory, apparently did not sleep more than 2 hours per night, was interested in Vedic cosmology & philosophy (he used terms like akasha & prana to describe the relationship between matter & energy). I find this quote by him very interesting, "To me, the universe is simply a great machine which never came into being and never will end". I personally don't believe in the Big Bang theory and I'm inclined to believe that the universe has always existed instead of having come into existence at one point, which imo, is a very anthropocentric idea. Tesla's quote is a reflection of the boundless nature of Aditi, who is the cosmic mother, she embodies creation.

fun fact: Elon Musk who named Tesla after him is Punarvasu Mercury & Rising.

Interestingly enough, several decades before the Big Bang theory gained mainstream acceptance and was studied by scientists, Edgar Allan Poe published a lecture/essay on the matter titled Eureka: A Prose Poem in 1848 (!!!!). He had Swati Rising

Can you believe that he, a man with zero scientific background essentially came up with ideas that would serve as the basis of 20th century scientific discoveries & theories??? That too in 1848???

Analysis of Eureka's scientific content shows congruities with modern cosmology, stemming from Poe's assumption of an evolving Universe and it also contains ideas about the unity of space and time, the mathematical equality of matter and energy, the velocity of light and a rudimentary concept of relativity, black holes (including one at the centre of our Milky Way), a "pulsating" universe that renews itself eternally, and other universes in other dimensions with different laws of nature.

A writer & poet who dropped out of college came up with all that in 1848. Swatis & Punarvasus have the ability to understand complex concepts, systems, and processes intuitively. This is why they are so good at analysis, strategy and planning. They have a futuristic vision because its easy for them to see how current events will affect other things and manifest in the future. Those who don't have these placements will struggle to understand what this is like because most of us aren't endowed with this sort of ability to see the trees and the forest all at once.

Interestingly, the scientist Georges Lemaître who first proposed the "Big Bang theory" of the origin of the universe, calling it the "hypothesis of the primaeval atom", and later calling it "the beginning of the world" is a Punarvasu Sun.

Leonardo da Vinci is known for his foresight and is considered a visionary. He, in the 15th & 16th centuries, pondered upon the possibilities of human flight and left behind diagrams and models of the helicopter, the parachute, the machine gun, the humanoid robot, the revolving bridge, the ideal city and much more. He had Ketu in Punarvasu.

Carl Jung created some of the best-known psychological concepts, including synchronicity, archetypal phenomena, the collective unconscious, the psychological complex, and extraversion and introversion. He had Punarvasu Mercury & Venus and it explains why there was such a heavy emphasis on "darkness" vs "light" in his work (Punarvasu being "the return of the light").

He is the father of Analytical Psychology which seeks to "analyze the relationship between a person's individual consciousness and the deeper common structures which underlie them. Personal experiences both activate archetypes in the mind and give them meaning and substance for the individual. At the same time, archetypes covertly organize human experience and memory, their powerful effects becoming apparent only indirectly and in retrospect. Understanding the power of the collective unconscious can help an individual to navigate through life."

In fact, vedic astrology (Jung did use astrology as well btw) serves as a very interesting way to explore the collective unconscious and the many archetypes that are manifest in individuals possessing them.

I will make a post in the future comparing Freud & Jung and how their different astrological placements contributed to their similar but differing views.

George Orwell, who was a fierce critic of totalitarianism had Swati Rising, if you read his works, you can see how he's able to analyse the effects and consequences of the same, especially 1984 which was sooo ahead of its time in the sense that much of what was written in the book is eerily similar to what's going on in the world right now.  The novel examines the role of truth and facts within societies and how they can be manipulated.

Swatis & Punarvasus are super Futuristic, as individuals or visionaries as well as in their art & work. They dominate in the surreal/scifi genre.

Robin Williams- Swati Rising stars as an android in Bicentennial Man which is a movie about a robot who learns how to be human. Transcending humanity is a big theme in the works of Swati natives.

On this note, I have noticed several Swati & Punarvasu natives star in movies featuring/about cloning 👀 This does not surprise me as I had already mentioned this in my Tomie post but it is fascinating how Swati & Punarvasu's ability to be many many versions of themselves is made manifest in this trope of clones.

I have to mention how both Rahu & Jupiter have a very boundless, obese energy that is hard to contain. This can be manifest negatively because its very easy for energy of this proportion to be misused and misdirected but when they're harnessed positively, these individuals are capable of envisioning change that have few/no other parallels.

Moon (2009) is a movie that features the main character and his clones. Sam Rockwell, Swati Sun plays the main character.

Tom Cruise, Punarvasu moon (acc to Claire Nakti) stars in Oblivion and plays a clone of himself. One version of him is good, his "clone" is evil. The battle between good & evil within oneself is a VERY Jupiterian trope (and I shall make a post solely about that in the near future).

Multiplicity is a 90s scifi-comedy about a guy who clones himself so that he can do all the things he wants to do. Michael Keaton who plays the protagonist has Swati Moon

The Sixth Day is a movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger (Punarvasu stellium) and it is about cloning. The title is a reference to the Abrahamic Genesis concept of how God created mankind on the sixth day.

This in itself is very interesting because Punarvasu is the 7th nakshatra and in the Bible, it is said "And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work that he had done. So God blessed the seventh day and made it holy because on it God rested from all the work that he had done in creation."

7 is a number that has profound spiritual meaning and is present in many religions as a figure of significance. From this verse taken from the Book of Genesis, it is interesting to note that ""7" is the culmination of creation. It is the day on which God rested because he had already created. It is not nothingness, it is the day on which everything already existed. This is a significant Punarvasu theme.

Replicas stars Keanu Reeves (Punarvasu Moon) as a neuroscientist who tries to revive his deceased family members by cloning them.

Its interesting how in these films, natives appear either as a clone or as the ones who do the cloning, furthermore connecting it back to Punarvasu's creation trope.

Harrison Ford, Punarvasu sun & moon stars as in and as the Blade Runner (1982) where he must "pursue and terminate four replicants who stole a ship in space and have returned to Earth to find their creator."

David Cronenberg is a director best known for making really weird, surreal, futuristic movies that heavily feature themes related to the nature of reality, consciousness etc

He is a Punarvasu Moon & Jupiter

Gakuryu Ishii, Punarvasu Moon is another filmmaker who makes movies that heavily centre around truth, reality, consciousness, the future etc.

I recommend his movie Mirrored Mind which heavily deals with identity, consciousness etc (its vaguely reminiscent of Perfect Blue)

Robert de Niro Punarvasu Rising, stars in the movie Awakenings (based on a true story) as a catatonic patient who has an "awakening" before tragically going back into catatonia, Robin Williams, Swati Rising stars as the doctor who administers a drug that induces this awakening.

In Vedic philosophy, there are 3 gunas, Rajas, Tamas & Sattva.

Tamas is a state of darkness, inertia, inactivity, 

Rajas is a state of energy, action, change, and movement.

Sattva is a state of harmony, balance, joy, and intelligence. 

Punarvasu belongs to the Rajas guna whereas Swati belongs to Tamas guna.

Tamas can be described as a state of statis or stagnation as there is no transformation and thus no change. Punarvasu natives are prone to passivity and it is only when they face their own destructive shadow, do they emerge out of passivity to their natural state of Rajas. In this movie, Deniro's experience where he emerges from his catatonia with a desire for freedom and to live life to the fullest before eventually accepting the fact that his condition cannot be remedied inspires the Doctor played by Robin Williams to emerge out of his own shell and live life more fully.

Punarvasus are often restricted by situations beyond their control yet they are possessed by a yearning to live life to the fullest. Swatis often have unmeasured freedom and do not know how to utilize it, they are restricted by their own character.

The Gaia Hypothesis proposed by James Lovelock (1972) suggests that living organisms on the planet interact with their surrounding inorganic environment to form a synergetic and self-regulating system that created, and now maintains, the climate and biochemical conditions that make life on Earth possible.

It is a holistic view, which is generally not appreciated in science that likes to favour randomness, chance or whatever instead of the innate harmony and union behind creation.

James Lovelock has Punarvasu moon & Swati rising

Lynn Margulis who co-developed this theory with him most likely has Revati Moon and I will be exploring her symbiotic view of evolution on a different post as it goes beyond the scope of this one.

Edit: as @brundlefly333 pointed out, the French philosopher Henri Bergson (Punarvasu Moon) has a book called Creative Evolution which extrapolates that whilst "evolution of species can come from external factors "like natural selection", it most importantly (comes) from an internal impulse (a creative force). This creative force is inherently unpredictable and non-linear, leading to the emergence of novelty and complexity in living organisms over time.

I find his "Cone of Memory" (depicted above) hypothesis very fascinating.

The Cone of Memory model can be imagined as an inverted cone, with the apex representing the present moment, the base symbolizing the entirety of one’s past experiences, and the cone’s vertical axis signifying the flow of time. As the present moment progresses, the apex of the cone moves upward along the axis, continuously stretching the cone outward as it incorporates new experiences and memories into a person’s consciousness. The memories from our past experiences are layered into the cone, with the most recent memories residing closer to the apex and older memories located further down, towards the base.

Bergson’s model emphasizes the active role of individual perception, memory, and experience in shaping one’s consciousness. The human mind, as depicted by Bergson, interacts with the objective world while drawing from its accumulated memories to create individual experiences in real time. The Cone of Memory focuses on the dynamic interplay between perception, memory, and experience, hoping to account for the generation of novel understandings and interpretations of reality.

Bergson’s emphasis on experience at the personal level also has significant implications for how we understand the self. In his view, the self is not a static entity but rather a constantly developing process, shaped by the dynamic interplay of perception, memory, and experience. This more fluid conception of the self contrasts sharply with many traditional notions of a fixed, unchanging identity. It also invites us to recognize the transformative power of our own experiences and encounters in the continuous interweaving of the past and present in our temporal consciousness.

It can be summed up with this quote:

"To exist is to change, to change is to mature, to mature is to go on creating oneself endlessly"- Henri Bergson

Rudolf Steiner- Ketu in Punarvasu, Swati rising

Steiner's breadth of work encompasses many fields, he pioneered modern-day organic farming, anthroposophical medicine (what we call alternate medicine including homeopathy, massages and frequency work etc rooted in the human body's ability to heal itself) invented the Waldorf education system (alternative schooling) and tried to merge science and spirituality.

All of this is vvv Punarvasu & Swati coded because its these natives who are frequently drawn to non-traditional systems of thought & experience and also merging a vast variety of techniques + being well versed in a lot of different fields etc comes down to having the inner space to hold all of it. This is literally not something most other people can do. Pursuit of knowledge can easily drain/deplete people but Punarvasu & Swati natives have a boundless thirst for knowledge and innately understand the profound truth that everything is connected.

Symbiosis, synergy, syncretism etc are all themes prominent in the works of Swati & Punarvasu natives who tend to view things as a coherent whole and not separate from one another; everything in creation exists to serve one another and exist in perfect harmony. Its not by "accident" that human beings took shape on earth where all the elements exist to continually support human life, every tiny detail is manifest in divine perfection and it helps us understand that we are a part of a larger system and that what we do affects changes at both the micro and macro level.

"Synergetics is the empirical study of systems in transformation, with an emphasis on whole system behaviours unpredicted by the behaviour of any components in isolation. R. Buckminster Fuller (1895–1983) named and pioneered the field. His two-volume work Synergetics: Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking."

Buckminster Fuller had Punarvasu sun & jupiter

I think I had made a post about how Punarvasu natives tend to make geometric art that features repetitive patterns and motifs. I thought Fuller's use of the term "Geometry of Thinking" was very Punarvasu of him.

Pls look him up and his work, its very interesting and if you have Punarvasu placements you might find things you resonate with. I dont want to make this post any longer so I'm not including more of his work although all of it really fits with the theme tbh.

Amartya Sen, the Indian economist and philosopher has Swati Sun, he is best known for his contributions to welfare economics, social choice theory, and development economics. His work incorporates the same holistic view of how everything exists in close interaction with everything else, interconnectedness as well as an all encompassing-ness are themes that dominate his work. Society affects the market, the market affects society, all of this affects interpersonal relationships, it takes a Swati/Punarvasu native to deeply embody this sentiment in their thought/work.

George Harrison aka the Spiritual Beatle had Swati moon, Jupiter in punarvasu amatyakaraka.

"It's being here now that's important. There's no past and there's no future. Time is a very misleading thing. All there is ever, is the now. We can gain experience from the past, but we can't relive it; and we can hope for the future, but we don't know if there is one."

This quote by him really sums it up.

Robert A Heinlein had Punarvasu sun, jupiter and rahu

Heinlein used his science fiction as a way to explore provocative social and political ideas and to speculate how progress in science and engineering might shape the future of politics, race, religion, and sex. Within the framework of his science-fiction stories, Heinlein repeatedly addressed certain social themes: the importance of individual liberty and self-reliance, the nature of sexual relationships, the obligation individuals owe to their societies, the influence of organized religion on culture and government, and the tendency of society to repress nonconformist thought. He also speculated on the influence of space travel on human cultural practices.

This is yet another example of the interconnectedness of Punarvasu as well as the analytical nature of these natives.

I will end this post here because I've been rambling for too long but I hope this was informative!! Apologies that this was kinda science heavy and not very pop culture centric :/

[transformers-spike]

I think Cybertronians having a pregnancy kink is really fun to play around with Especially if they aren't born that way. Cold-construction, forging - doesn't matter, just as long as pregnancy isn't a thing they go through. It must feel like they're not only human-fuckers - but degenerates on top of that by Cybertronian standards Obv it's war and taboo stuff is mostly ignored (which is why human-fuckery gets to happen in the first place ngl) - but just imagine an Autobot or (Primus forbid) a Decepticon with their face buried in their servos having a crisis over this. I assume this kink would be mostly based upon the idea of giving life. Like you're making it??? The offspring??? It's growing inside of you and you're the one keeping it alive and ensuring it's born??? What are you - Primus? I kind of agree with every Prime developing a pregnancy kink - the Matrix of Leadership does that as a side-effect lol. Idk abt TFA, I just like tormenting Sentinel by giving him a kink he would find absolutely repulsive but it still makes his spike pressurize.