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teletraan-archive · 16 days ago

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Optimus Prime

Video Recording of the first official broadcast of The Voice of Autonomy, the autobot news channel:

A red and yellow cybertronian with what looks like speakers in his legs appears on screen, standing behind an indistinct metal wall.

“Salutations, cybertronians both big and small! Your optics and audio sensors aren’t glitching out on you, this is Blaster. I know you haven’t heard from me or my minicon crew of rabble rousers in a long time, but there’s a fair reason for that. On the last few broadcasts of Blastin’ Out Truth, I gave our new decepticon government a few harsh critiques. Now, the expected response from our leaders would be some lip service about how their increasingly fascist military isn’t all that bad. The hopeful response is that they’d actually course correct and stop all this peace through tyranny nonsense. The actual response? Megatron and his cronies threatening to blow up the building where I used to broadcast from. Say what you want and Sentinel Prime’s time on the throne, I know I have, but at least he let speak your mind.”

“I pride myself on speaking the truth, even when it’s hard. So, let me say this… Things are getting real bleak for Cybertron. Megatron bringing the hammer down on peaceful protests, military spending is through the roof, and that’s just the tip of the spear. Yes, the decepticons are turning our home world into one giant battle station of death and conquest. But folks, there’s a light at the end of this tunnel. You might’ve heard about the rumblings of a new resistance movement, especially if you live here in Iacon. I’m happy to say that I’ve recently became a member myself.”

“What’s this new resistance? How does it have a chance against the military might of the decepticon empire? To answer those questions, a familiar face is gonna take the stage. Now, he’s not used to public speaking, so give the bot some mercy if he stumbles a bit. Come on up, boss bot.”

Blaster steps aside as a tall red and blue cybertronian with a face plate walks into frame. A unique red insignia is on his left shoulder. The most striking thing about him is his chest windows, giving off a light circuitry glow. He steadies himself and begins to speak.

“Greetings, people of Cybertron and beyond. You all knew me as Orion Pax, one of the ascenticons key spokesmen. If you remember, my wonderful girlfriend Ariel reported that I was severely injured by Megatron when trying to talk sense into my old friend. During my slow recovery, I could only watch as the bot I once revered turn into a monstrous tyrant. How could this warmongering brute possibility be my brother in arms?”

“A more pressing question was on my mind, however. How did Megatron amass such a large following of decepticons? This is not the movement that I joined, the one that promised to aid the other species of the galaxy and not hide away in paranoia. The destruction of Tarn alone should’ve stopper the decepticon empire in its tracks due to public outrage. And yet, cybertronians continue to join. Why? … Why in the name of Primus would anyone ever join such a morally abhorrent government? Why would people willingly, gleefully tear apart homes and take away the freedoms of others?”

“But a few days ago, Megatron made a new speech. He confessed that the Matrix of Leadership refused to make him a prime. He would go on to denounce and condemn the matrix bearers, that the leader of Cybertron shouldn’t be chosen by an ancient trinket. That’s when it all clicked for me. That’s when I realized why so many support and praise Megatron. He said exactly what many wanted to hear.”

“Megatron said what those who feel isolated wanted to hear, that we could forge our own destiny and should be allowed to explore the cosmos without restraint. He said what the fearful and greedy wanted to hear, that brute strength and conquest would lead our kind to greatness. He said… He said what I wanted to hear. Nova, Nominus, Sentinel, they’ve all done great things for Cybertron and it’s neighboring worlds. But they have also caused great pain and frustration among the masses. Many of us excused their foibles simply because the matrix chose them and they accepted the responsibility of leadership. But we must remember that even the thirteen original primes had their faults. I don’t believe that a single person should have the final say on how to improve our future… With all that said, this next bit of information might come off as hypocritical.”

Orion’s chest windows convert and open up, revealing a shining light. The light dims, showing the Matrix of Leadership residing within the speaker’s chest.

“After his speech, Megatron openly gave the Matrix away to Alpha Trion. My former colleague challenged my iron mentor to find another prime and see how many would flock to them now that the decepticons have shown their might. Alpha Trion came to my medical bed and gave me the Matrix. It deemed me worthy and I accepted. I am now Optimus Prime, and I send this message.”

“In my resistance against Megatron, I vow not to return Cybertron to the way it was before. I do not believe the the thing in my chest grants me superiority over all others, nor does it give me all the answers. Thankfully, people like Ariel and Xaarron are already rallying against the decepticons. Of course, this rallying force needs a banner and name to stand under.”

“Megatron’s philosophy only rewards the strongest and cruelest of our kind. Where is the sympathy for those that cannot fight? How can the decepticon empire proclaim that all of Cybertron shall thrive while the weak and unmilitarized are crushed underfoot. Our resistance is not just for our allies that think and act like us. We fight for the autonomy of all, because freedom is the right of all sentient beings! We are autobots!”

Just then, Blaster interjects from offscreen.

“Wrap it up soon, Optimus. That Soundwave fella is working hard on cutting the transmission and I don’t know how much longer I can firewall him.”

Optimus nods and continues,

“I know that things are dire. We look at the successes of the decepticons and think ‘Is this what cybertronians are? Just ruthless war machines?’ But that is not all that we are. We are courageous in the face of darkness, and we do not bow to those that seek to control everything around them. Do not despair at the decepticon’s power. As a librarian in Iacon’s hall of records, I’ve read of the different alien races across the galaxy. There have been many empires like the decepticons, and there is one thing that connects them all. They all fell. Even if Megatron defeats me, others will rise to defeat his tyranny. The autobots will defend and aid all that we can. We will fight when fighting is the only option. We. Will. Win!”

Video transmission ends.

(Author’s note: While this certainly became more topical than originally intended, I hope that this fic can bring some comfort to those that need it. The main idea behind Optimus being against a prime ruling all Cybertron came from IDW2)

#transformers #maccadam #optimus prime #tf blaster #autobots #decepticons #fan fiction

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lets-try-some-writing · 11 months ago

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Action! Chapter 2

Now settled into his role, Orion, or rather Optimus, is finally ready to get the ball rolling with his opening scene just around the corner.

Previous part here.

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The director must have really been aiming for realism with this production. Orion, no, Optimus Prime sat at his desk as he had for the past two deca-cycles. Not once had he been given the chance to break character comfortably. He couldn’t be sure his personal quarters weren’t being filmed since that was where his opening shot had taken place, so he opted to keep to his persona just in case. While he felt slightly more comfortable without the extras around him, it still wasn’t exactly a peaceful environment.

Despite that, Alpha Trion had obviously seen to every tiny detail with the set. Orion had done his fair share of snooping while doing his best to look deliberate. With so little information about current events, he wanted to get a little extra data. Thankfully, Optimus Prime’s, or perhaps Orion’s quarters, were filled with small indicators of personality. Letters from Optimus’s sons and absent Consort that had been received and read, but never answered. Small trinkets from when his character had not been a Prime. Photos hidden in the back of the closet behind a box that showed a time when his character had seemingly been a better mech. Optimus Prime in those photos looked younger, happier even. He bore a smile on his unmasked face as he held a newly forged Bumblebee in his arms, Smokescreen grinning gleefully as he looked down at his younger brother.

Those photos made Orion smile, especially the ones that showed Optimus’s sheer joy as he drank with Megatron and what looked to be his other close friends before his rise to his station. Optimus’s origins in the novel were not exactly explained, largely because the mech had done everything in his power to cut himself off from his past and cover his tracks. A smart political move to ensure his friends and family could not be used against him, but a poor way to connect to the people. But from what hints were dropped in the story and based upon the fact that there was a police issued pistol in a small box hidden underneath the berth, Orion had his theories. Optimus Prime had evidently once been involved with law enforcement, and it seemed that his sense of justice had likely been perverted, possibly through seeing all the corruption of the higher castes.

Everything he found gave Orion more ammunition to use to improve his performance. Knowing the Prime had once been part of the police force ensured that he could adequately use his knowledge of the novel’s laws in order to back up his claims if need be. Not to mention, he could also likely hint at a darker past, one where his character possibly saw indescribable horrors while on the job, a potential contributor to his eventual fall to darkness. Additionally, it seemed the Prime still carried a fondness for his former station and likely held a secret love for the mecha he had long pushed away, considering his keepsakes.

A regretful and damaged villain. Being Optimus Prime was going to be a sheer delight.

Well, that is whenever he could begin truly playing his role. Thus far all he’d been able to do was work through the mountain of datapads that had built up, and then after completing those, he had spent a ridiculous amount of time reviewing already active programs and laws. Again he found himself praising the director’s optic for detail as he looked over fully fledged and well documented articles. But he couldn’t help but internally cringe at a great many of the active laws and regulations. They were largely and rather obviously meant to screw over the lower castes.

Since he was just trying to look like he was busy, Orion had quickly begun the long and arduous process of adjusting things. He was very thankful for his training prior to arriving at the set and what little he picked up while thinking about joining the Archives as he tore through countless protocols and restructured them to his liking. Being a Prime had its perks. Even if it was all for show, considering Alpha Trion’s dedication to making things realistic, Orion wouldn’t have put it past him to make things an absolute slag pit if his character were anyone else.

Despite the enjoyment he found in picking apart the hyper realistic documentation, at the end of the two deca-cycles, he was weary.

He always had a penchant for working himself half to death, and whatever mods he had been given were certainly not helping his poor habit. His newly adjusted frame just… didn’t get tired like his old one did. He hardly noticed the passage of time as he delved into paperwork, finding himself pondering a possible future where he had chosen to join the Archives. Considering his office, once overflowing with work, was now fully cleared and organized, he reckoned he would have been good at it.

He hardly saw anyone as he worked. The servants refused to, or perhaps were too afraid, to talk to him. They played their parts perfectly, and Orion internally praised them even as he started to feel the effects of loneliness. He just had to be patient. His time to shine would come soon.

��My Lord, your Council is on their way. Would you like to await their arrival in the Throne room?” Orion, no, that wasn’t right. Optimus Prime sat up at his desk as a servant carefully entered. They had learned that so long as they remained quiet, Optimus would not snap at them. His character certainly could have, but Optimus felt it was unneeded, especially considering the character he was hoping to portray was both cunning and complex. Random bursts of anger at employees not doing anything didn’t give off that impression.

“That would be acceptable.” Optimus stood up slowly, allowing his battle mask to slide into place. His character was well known for only ever revealing his face when within his inner palace, never in the Throne room or in front of any cameras. It was likely a holdover from his time in law enforcement.

“Your attendants are ready to assist you in your preparations, my Lord.” The servant bowed, their expression carefully controlled. Optimus nodded subtly to them, hoping it conveyed his appreciation and awe for their acting. How Alpha Trion got so many talented extras was beyond him. It had taken a good chunk of a cycle for him to track down and memorize the names of his most relevant servants so that he could quietly prepare them gift baskets. He really hadn't expected Alpha Trion to give him proper funds, but he opted to not question the situation and used a small portion of his wealth to get them something nice. He hadn’t gotten any messages in return, but considering nothing had been sent back, he assumed his gifts had been taken with a degree of appreciation.

That had been a deca-cycle and a half ago. Since then, his servants had been surprisingly docile, or perhaps less skittish. He didn’t know how to coin their behavior.

“As is expected of them.” He quipped as he came around toward the door. The servant bowed and said nothing more as Optimus exited, only to then be met by six curious faces. The mecha before him were of the Primacy, their religious shrouds said as much. However, instead of shaking or doing something else of the sort, they instead looked at him oddly before gesturing for him to follow.

Strange, but then again, the priests in the novel were known to be rather odd. Very little was actually documented about them, and they only appeared to assist his character in dressing for activities of importance or to guide him through religious rites. Maybe this was part of their script.

“Prime, please stand here.” The priests directed him into a room covered in detailed murals, gesturing for him to stand on a raised round platform a foot or so off the ground in the center of the chamber. Optimus paused, taking in the sheer grandeur of the room before he obeyed. The walls were almost pure ivory in coloration, all covered in glyphs he could only read if he looked closely. Gold trim graced every detail of the space, and he was fairly certain there were portraits of prior Primes painted on the walls in some places.

He’d said it a million times, but by Primus, Alpha Trion was not playing games when it came to detail.

“Begin your work, priest.” Was all he ordered in response, his tone cold but slightly off kilter as he struggled to keep focus in light of the detail in the space. If he had the chance, he would love to spend a whole cycle, or perhaps several, simply viewing the walls of the chamber. There was so much history and so many hidden clues to be found in every piece. The set designers must have been absolute masters of their craft to pull all this off.

He couldn’t help himself as he hastily examined the chamber, looking for the telltale mark of Knockout’s work. The designer was known to leave a little sigil somewhere on all of the sets he was involved in. Optimus could only assume he had to have been involved in the production of his current set, considering the sheer amount of intricacy.

“By your will.” The priests chanted before more streamed into the room from small tunnels previously hidden along certain points in the walls. Light shone from a window directly above him, and by the Allspark, Optimus really felt like a Prime as the priests laid expensive organic cloth around his shoulders, turning it into an elegant cape covered in symbols that fell from his back. The overhead light must have been Breakdown’s work, it really sold the entire scene in Optimus’s opinion. The light shone on the cloth and caused the glyphs that were being painted onto him to glow slightly. He hadn’t noticed since he had practically lived in his office the whole time, but the gold accents he woke with had largely faded.

The priests restoring them made him a bit giddy if he was truthful. Now he truly looked the part of the mighty and tyrannical Prime. It was incredibly difficult to keep a straight face, despite it mostly being covered by his mask, as the nearest priest placed something rather heavy on his back. Optimus struggled to see it, but from what he gathered, it was some sort of… flair piece made of gold? It added an aura of religious fanaticism to his persona with its structure, and quite frankly, Optimus enjoyed it.

A dramatic villain was by far the most enjoyable to watch on screen.

“May Primus guide your steps.” The priests bowed respectfully, and Optimus took the opportunity to step off the dias and turn toward the exit. He memorized the maps of the palace his first cycle there. He would be foolish not to.

“At ease.” He called back, pulling on his character’s supposed past in law enforcement to make a statement. He did his best to have his voice dip into something more tired, a weary mech, so very done with life. He wanted to giggle as he noticed the priests standing up, confusion etched onto their features as they watched him leave.

He was absolutely owning his part so far.

If he weren’t on set he would absolutely be making an expression worthy of how he felt in his spark, but he took a deep vent, hoping it added to the drama as he opened the door and stepped into the hall. The weight of the cape was neither uncomfortable nor foreign, despite its origin. The weight on his back from the accenting piece was also rather nice as he strode down the halls, not waiting a moment but keeping his pace steady as he made his way toward where the map he memorized dictated the Throne room to be.

Guardsmecha quickly joined him, abandoning whatever posts they held previously in order to escort him. They, too, gave him strange looks, ones he refused to acknowledge. Perhaps their scripts indicated that they were to act as though he were suspicious. It would make sense. According to the lore, he had been in stasis for a whole vorn, and now he had been working nonstop for a full two deca-cycles.

Thinking about it, that may have been a mistake. A mech fresh out of stasis should have still been in a medical wing somewhere, going through therapy and examinations. Optimus hopping right up without so much as a word to anyone but his servants and getting right to work was likely… concerning. The novel never went into much detail about his character’s work ethic, just that his laws were unjust and his actions cruel in the extreme. Optimus could probably play it off if he just didn’t acknowledge the situation. Maybe the director would cut anything that hinted at anything too incriminating.

He still didn’t know how much filming his predecessor managed to be a part of before his accident. He would hate to screw something up due to ignorance.

“You are dismissed.” He called out to his guards as he at last reached the doors to the Throne room. All the halls in the palace were largely the same, albeit with different murals and stained-glass windows depending on the wing of the building. It would be easy to mistake this room for another. Optimus really hoped he wasn’t about to walk into the energon purifying room or something.

“My Lord, it is our sworn duty to protect you.” One guardsmech put forward hesitantly. Optimus raised an optical ridge in response, quickly causing the mech to shift uncomfortably. He contemplated the right response before settling on portraying a Prime with enough ego to drown out the nearest star. It seemed on par for a mech such as Optimus.

“I am fully capable of defending myself, guardsmech. I require no guardians.” The mech shrank in on himself, likely expecting a hit. Optimus abstained from acting on the unspoken cue. He didn’t have a written script, but hurting a guard so early into his time on set seemed a bit much. His character was highly intelligent and cunning, and while not necessarily showcased in the novels, he wanted to spin it so that Optimus Prime was at least given a degree of respect for his efforts amongst the audience.

A villain needed to know when outright violence was the answer and when cunning was key.

“If you are so concerned, give me your weapon, and I shall sully the blade with the energon of any who dare step too close.” He glared, his field flaring briefly to sell his point. Of course, his field would not be visible on camera, but the gentle urging he sent out would hopefully get his wishes across to the extra before him. Nonverbal communication was essential for any good actor. One couldn’t always rely on the script.

He held out a servo expectantly, his gaze frigid but his field as warm as he could manage without it affecting his body language. The guardsmech froze, as did the others. They shared a series of startled looks before the mech in question at last unstrapped his sword from where it hung at his hip and dropped to a knee, presenting it formally.

“Be on your way, guardsmech, and know this.” Optimus accepted the blade, strapping it to his own hip with practiced ease, as if he were still back in Crystal City training with his teacher. He looked down at the fearful guardsmech before bending down to grip the mech’s face. The mech froze in horror, his frame going completely still and his venting slowing to the point of it being concerning as Optimus forced the mech to meet his gaze.

“Never again dare assume that I am so weak as to require your protection. I am your Prime, I am Primus’s chosen vessel. No mere mortal could ever dream of withstanding anything powerful enough to damage me.” His words came out in a hiss that still managed to maintain a vague remnant of a sing songy undertone. He internally cheered at his performance as his words rang in his audials. Ad libbing was one of his specialties in school and by the Thirteen, his new voice mod really sold the bit.

The guardsmech looked a klik away from crying when Optimus let go and returned to his proper height. However, despite his words, his field still extended kindly to the extras around him. It was his version of telling them good job, since words were not exactly an option at the present moment. They seemed to take it well enough, at least he certainly hoped so, since their fields flared in brief bursts of mixed confusion and awe with a hint of fear.

The fear was weird, but then again, Ratchet had once said in an interview that field usage on set was considered rather rude. Maybe he had crossed a line.

“Of course, forgive me, my Lord.” The guardsmech bowed and shakily stepped away. Silently, Optimus sent a message through his HUD to give the guardsmecha some gift cards. He didn’t know their designations yet, so for the time being, they could use his little gift to maybe get a drink off set somewhere. Being up in someone’s face was a rather frightening thing for any extra after all. He certainly had a few instances where he nearly broke down while training at the academy. The mech looked rather young too…

He shook his helm, clearing his mind as he readied himself. He had no clue who would already be there and who wouldn’t. Without access to the special effects team, he would need to start setting up his own effects once this was over. But for now, entering normally would be fine. It wouldn’t do to overwhelm the audience.

“Announcing Optimus Prime, Primus’s Chosen.” The announcer listed his designation and title as he strode into the room, internally sighing in relief at having entered the correct area and not embarrassing himself by waltzing into some other space, Primus forbid a closet or something of the like. He had no clue how he would explain that in such a scenario.

“Hail.” The small collection of already present bots stood from their chairs, bowing slightly with a servo over where their spark chambers were hidden behind layers of protective armor as he entered. Striding toward the seat he assumed was for his character in light of the very obvious Matrix of Leadership engraving on it, Optimus observed those present.

Once he was seated, those gathered did the same once more. The first mech he laid optics on very nearly had Optimus wheezing if not for his training prior to arriving on set. Ratchet was right there. Not just the character, the actual mech. He looked absolutely stunning playing the part of the Prime’s personal physician. He thought that his idol had long given up on acting, but it seemed Alpha Trion’s production was too good to turn away from. The elder actor was performing brilliantly, his disposition exactly like the character depicted in the novel. A scowl was settled on his face, accented by the gold flairs that had been painted onto him. He looked less than pleased with the situation as a whole, and he did not even bother to hide his disdain as Optimus met his gaze.

Pros really were made of sterner stuff. Not only was Ratchet’s acting top tier, but his field was also held so close to himself as to be akin to a second layer of armor. The work of a real master, refusing any and all contact with fellow actors in order to really fall into character. Optimus would be fragged if he didn’t get an autograph once they had a chance to speak somewhere without cameras. Maybe he could just invite him to speak over some tea while in character. It wasn’t part of the script, but then again, it seemed Alpha Trion’s optic for realism dictated that events would play out in proper order and over the course of time indicated in the novels. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to speak to his co-star.

“Ratchet, I had not expected you to heed my summons.” Optimus commented frigidly. Ratchet, still maintaining his immaculate characterization, almost snarled in response.

“I was half tempted to do just as you anticipated Prime. I have more important things to do than sit around and be a pretty doll.” The physician glowered with the rage of a thousand suns, and Optimus had to fight to keep still as he internally cheered. Ratchet was an absolute master of his craft, and it was evident in every small motion he made.

“But considering I was forbidden to tend to your high and mighty majesty during your time in stasis, I elected to turn up and see if the rumors were true.” Ratchet reached out for a sizable pile of documents, shutting down any further conversation just as quickly as Optimus initiated it.

Absolutely brilliant. Ratchet’s character had been largely forbidden to do anything of worth, and was kept around as a formality more often than not. In the novel, this drove the doctor half mad due to how many bots needed him down in the clinics. He despised doing nothing aside from appearing for the sake of formality. A large portion of his anger toward Optimus’s character stemmed from the simple fact that the Prime held all of Ratchet’s students and staff in the palm of his servo, their lives hanging by a thread. For Ratchet to manage to showcase all of his character’s anger in such a short scene was nothing short of phenomenal.

“It is good to see you functional again, my Lord.” Ultra Magnus sat at the far end of the table, as far as physically possible from Optimus. He had reading glasses on and his tone was anything but welcoming, unsurprising considering his character was a former war hero forced into the role of glorified maid in order to keep him from speaking out. Being a secretary was by no means the worst job out there, but it was a far cry from his former position, and Magnus’s character could not risk the potential harm that would befall his soldiers should he fail to obey.

Optimus had to reset his optics a few times in order to confirm that the actor playing Magnus’s character was indeed the Ultra Magnus he knew. Why a director had chosen to act was beyond him, but he was doing a fantastic job, so who was Optimus to judge? He nodded to himself softly, hoping somehow that the other actor felt his approval.

“Soundwave, you come on the behalf of the senate, I assume.” It wasn’t even a question. Optimus knew full and well that Soundwave, the mech sitting closest to him on his left, was an inside mech. He didn’t want to be there, and was forced to serve as the senate’s mouthpiece in order to ensure that Megatron didn’t find himself killed in some horrible and one hundred percent unfortunate accident.

It was odd that the actor playing the character wasn’t in his usual monster role, but Optimus internally shrugged and moved on. Soundwave was always a quiet mech on camera, and it seemed this role suited him fine.

“Affirmative. The Senate wishes to confirm Optimus Prime still functions.” Soundwave remained still as a statue, an act of dedication to his role that had Optimus wishing he could give a thumbs up in awe. However, he fought with his spark until the urge died and looked to the only other mech in the room.

“Jazz. I imagine you are rather disappointed I didn’t offline while in stasis.” Optimus taunted with a hint of a dark laugh in his tone. Sweet as candied energon, his vocalizer produced what might as well have been a song as he leaned forward in his chair, his elbows on the table and his servos clasped together in a grim mimicry of a prayer.

“Right on point, Prime. Would have been nice, but you’ve always been a real glitch about dying.” Jazz flipped a knife as he propped his pedes on the table. Unlike everyone else in the room, he had no decorative pieces on his frame. He looked like an average civilian. He was, to Optimus’s knowledge, the only mech his character had no real sway over. Jazz was there because he had to be for the safety of those who were against Optimus’s character.

If he recalled correctly, it said somewhere in the novel that Jazz remained for so long on the faint hope that his old friend would return and cease his cruelty. A tragic story, really, but one Optimus could use to improve his performance.

“Your commentary is irrelevant. Where are my heirs and my High Protector?” Those at the table remained silent as a servant hurried forward with a bow. Optimus raised an optical ridge and leaned back in his chair, giving off the aura of an unimpressed and agitable leader as the mech hurried to speak.

“The Primecended are going to be arriving late, my Lord. Primajor Smokescreen has been slowed by delays in transportation from Protihex. Priminor Bumblebee was…” The servant trailed off, shifting from pede to pede as they continued.

“You have never called for the Priminor before, so his position was not monitored… and it is possible he assumed you did not require his presence.” The room fell deathly silent as Optimus weighed his options. The way the film was running seemed to suggest that so long as all the main plot points were reached, the actors could act as naturally as they wished while remaining in character. Optimus had free reign to act as he saw fit.

In this case, he had just the right idea.

“That sparkling has been left to run wild for too long. Living a life of luxury due to my efforts. How very ungrateful of him.” Standing slowly, Optimus loomed over the servant and grasped their wrist, making sure to make it seem as though his grip was crushing while remaining soft so as to not damage them.

“He is my heir. He will learn to heed my summons. Bring him here in the next joor, or I will get him myself. I am sure we all don’t want that to happen, do we?” He increased his grip ever so slightly, cracking his knuckle on the servo not visible to the onlookers, in order to make it seem as though he’d damaged the servant. Then, to sell the scene further, he threw the mech to the ground as carefully as he could manage while still seeming harsh.

“Find him and tell him that I will tolerate no further acts of defiance.” The servant wiped away tears as they scrambled to their pedes and fled. Those gathered at the table stared at Optimus in hatred, as was to be expected. Optimus in turn nodded to himself before sitting back down. He didn’t want his co-stars thinking he’d actually hurt the extra playing the servant role, so he hastily began to crack his knuckles while extending his field comfortingly, hoping they connected the dots.

Their expressions grew more terrified than comforted, but he chalked that up to them remaining in character.

“Once my Council has finished gathering, I wish to know all that has happened in my absence. I would not have my empire tainted by impurities-” Optimus began, fully intending to monologue in true evil villain fashion. However, before he could, the door to the throne room burst open with a deafening crash. Ratchet startled a degree, Jazz didn’t flinch, Magnus sighed, and Soundwave remained still as always.

Optimus sat up straighter, his finials perking up as he pulled back his field and stared at the mech trudging in. He was tall and probably once had a fantastic silver finish. Now he was covered in soot and ash, burn marks, cuts, scars, and every other conceivable form of damage marred his plating. Black smoke escaped his vents, an indicator of a desperate need for system repairs and cleaning as he strode forward, the canon on his arm humming to life from what had to be incredible amounts of stress or anger.

Incredible makeup and prop work. Optimus would need to thank the makeup department when this was all over. The blaster was amazingly realistic. The LEDs inside the prop casing must have been spectacular quality.

“PRIME!”

There it was. Music to his audials. Finally, Optimus’s time to shine. He knew this scene by spark.

“Why Megatron, I would have expected more decorum from my High Protector. And yet here you are, dirtying my carpets with grime from the lower levels. How very distasteful.” Megatron seethed, his optics flicking between red and blue in a frenzy. Optimus smiled beneath his mask as he stood again, his optics purposefully locked onto the seething mech across from him.

This was his moment, the grand confrontation and the scene where Optimus Prime was introduced to the readers. Optimus would need to make this good. He hadn’t had decent prep time due to his failure to plan ahead, but he could still make a spectacular introduction.

“Well then, come take a seat. Let us begin.” He smirked and gestured toward a chair. Megatron practically shook with rage. The actor was spectacular in his heroic role, just as he always was.

Optimus would need his autograph as well.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #optimus prime #ratchet #megatron #alternate universe #ultra magnus #jazz #soundwave #actor au #fanfiction #transformers fanfiction #optimus is an oblivious idiot #hes too wrapped up in his role to see the obvious indicators that this is very real #in the words of my friend #“he has plot armor because he believes he has plot armor.”#but look! second chapter yall!#I actually did more for an au :D

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annymation · 8 months ago

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Okay, now I wanna know how the calming from nightmares would play out between Aster and Asha…which means I’m giving you full permission to write this type of angst.😅 Maybe the two of the have a nightmare about those AU endings you gave each of them (Asha is cursed and Aster is a black hole). If it means I see a wholesome interaction of either of them calming each other from a nightmare, it’ll be worth the angst.

OOOOH-HOO HA HA HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Oh Emptyblog7 my poor, naive, little friend! You have no idea of what you just unleashed!

Thanks to you, I can now explore the deep machinations of my characters psyche, their deepest and untold fears are revealed in poetic ways, and best of all, I get to make my favorite blorbo suffer YIPPIEEEEEEE!!!

So anyway, Asha got a nightmare in chapter 8 of Kingdom Of Wishes (In the updated version) so I guess it's Aster's turn.

"All you'll have to do is give her a true love's kiss" Explained Acrux, the south star of the southern cross constellation. The elder star spoke calmly with a wise and serene smile "If your feelings are indeed true love, then... You shall become a human"

He finished that sentence with his voice sounding slightly quavery, almost as if he was trying to hide from Aster a sense of dread he was feeling.

Aster, however, didn't notice the uneasiness in his voice at all. The young star was beaming with the news that the stars would actually grant his wish. He couldn't stop smiling, frantically moving his arms up and down with an unbound energy.

Aster celebrated in front of all the stars that surrounded them "WOOOAAAAH!!! LETS GOOO-" But he stopped himself, realizing it was best to show maturity in front of the ancient star "I mean- ahem- Thank you, for giving me this chance" The little star bowed down his head to Acrux, to which the brighter star just smiles amusedly.

Another star that was among the many others gathered around them spoke up "We couldn't, in good conscience, let you go without asking one thing first" The star that walked forward was Meissa, more specifically, she's the head of Orion "Do you truly understand what your wish entails?"

"Ummm sure I do, it means I get to spend the rest of my life with the one I love" Aster replied with his eyes sparkling brighter than the sun.

And speaking of which "Indeed, the rest of your life..." The sun from the earth's solar system herself spoke "A life that, for us, will be nothing but a passing moment... We'll view your life the same way humans view the life of a butterfly. Freeing and beautiful, sure, but also short and fragile." She explained with a smile that carried some worry behind him

Aster understood what the other stars were worried about, that he'd regret this choice, that something bad would happen to him, he smiled and tried to reassure them "I know, and I've already accepted that. As long as I have Asha by my side I have nothing to fear"

...

A voice echoed from the crowd of stars "Well then, I guess we're asking the wrong question. Aren't we?" Just from their tone, it was noticeable how they were smiling while speaking.

Aster was caught off guard by the voice. Deep down, they knew that this whole thing felt quite "Deja Vu"... Almost like a memory he was re-living... But that felt different, he didn't remember this part.

Aster turns towards where the voice came from, he doesn't know which of the stars spoke "And uh- what would the "right question" be? Heh heh" Aster asked, feeling anxious all of the sudden, not sure why.

The stars that were gathered around moved to the side, almost like a door sliding open to reveal who had spoken... Aster's breath hitched.

All he saw was two eyes. Two tiny, shiny, yellow eyes. On a dark silhouette.

Aster couldn't quite make out who or what the silhouette looked like. But he knew one thing... That's NOT how stars present themselves when taking a physical form... This is something else.

Aster floats backwards slightly, his eyes darting around to the other stars, he looks at them distressed as if to ask "Are you all seeing that?"

But they seem unnerved by the newcomer... They actually have no reaction at all.

The shadowy figure then says "The question isn't if you're prepared to die eventually, of coooourse you are." There's nothing to be seen on their face besides their eyes, however, Aster can practically HEAR their huge smile as they speak. The silhouette takes a few steps forward as they ask their first question "What you really should ask yourself is...

Are you ready to lose her?"

Aster felt a chill run down his spine... Which was odd, stars can't feel cold. He tried to open his mouth to speak but-

"Are you ready to be even MORE helpless than you already were?"

His voice didn't come out, it was as if something was holding his lungs. Aster turned to Acrux but-

"Are you ready to be useless for her, again?..."

Acrux wasn't there, he vanished. Aster quickly looks around, and to his horror... The stars are gone.

Aster is shaking, all he sees around him is darkness. There's nothing, there's no one. Just him, and this thing getting closer and closer.

The figure suddenly get's close really fast, floating right above him "Tell me, do you really think you can protect her?" He sneered, it felt more like a mockery than a question "Even though you can't even protect yourself?"

Aster was frozen in place, staring at those bright eyes looming above him.

Suddenly, he feels himself getting smaller, but not because he was shrinking. Looking down, Aster sees he's being sucked into a hole that opened beneath his feet.

They try to scream, but no sound came out.

And even if it did, no one would hear.

It's just the two of them, in the dark emptiness of space.

Aster feels as if they're being swallowed by quicksand, as his feet sink down slowly, down and down into the hole of emptiness.

"Heh heh it's like they said, you're just as fragile as a bug now" the shadow couldn't hold in a lowly chuckle as floated in circles above Aster, watching the other sinking down slowly in amusement "Ah but then again, that's nothing new to you, is it?" those glowing yellow eyes pierced through Aster's soul "Even when you had magic, you were weak. Now? Now you're NOTHING!" The shadow's hand SLAMS with all force on Aster's face, now pushing him down, making him sink faster and faster. "So, when something WORSE than Magnifico shows up, what will you do? Hmmm?" Aster tried to pull and punch the hand out of his face, but it wouldn't budge, it was like the arm was made of concrete. He was powerless to stop this "That's right, NOTHING!" The hand pushed Aster down harshly, he could feel his whole lower half was being pressured from all sides, like he was being buried alive.

From between the dark fingers, Aster could open his eyes to look at the silhouette face to face...

He wasn't a silhouette anymore.

Aster could see their face... It was his own face.

It was like looking in a mirror, albeit, a mirror with a very sinister smile.

"But hey! That's what you wished for, right?" they kept pushing Aster down, his chest was completely swallowed by the hole. The shadow grinned as he rambled almost playfully "To live unsure of what the future has in store, not knowing what other threats you'll be hopeless to stop next, wow, exciting stuff, huh?! Everyday a brand new failure!" Aster once again tried to scream, but his voice wasn't coming out no matter how hard he tried. They were buried now up to the neck. His shadow stopped smiling, now with a cold expression, he said one last thing before pushing Aster into the abyss "So don't cry about it when things get tough, you asked for it."

With one last push... Aster fell in.

And he kept falling. Down.

Down and down.

Free falling.

Down.

Until.

"AAAAAAAAAH!!!!!" Aster woke up in cold sweat.

The boy was breathing as if his heart was trying to jump out of his chest, his eyes darting around the room, blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the darkness. The room was barely lit thanks to the light of the full moon coming from the window, but slowly, things started coming into focus.

Aster tried to calm himself, hugging his pillow as he looked around to ground himself back into reality. None of that was real, he was fine, he was in his room, with just a closet, a few books scattered on the floor, and a face staring at him.

"GAAH-" Aster let out another yell, realizing that the face staring at him was his own... Because there was a mirror on the other side of the room.

He let out a sigh, of both relief and frustration, he literally just got scared of his reflection, how pathetic is that?

They stared back into the mirror for a few moments. Seeing his now curly brown hair and freckled cheeks... He could also see how much he was shaking, even though it wasn't cold.

They breathed deeply a few more time, as everything from that dream started to sink in, and not only that, but everything else that has been happening since Aster became human.

All the times he got hurt by accidentally forgetting he couldn't fly anymore and Asha got really worried about him.

All the times they passed by the royals statues and Aster had in the back of his mind the lingering fear that maybe the spell wasn't permanent.

All the times he wanted to express how this is all so new and overwhelming, to the point he sometimes didn't want to hang out with Asha and the others, sometimes, he just wanted to be left alone.

But he can't say that, right? Their time together is short, he has to enjoy every day like it's his last, that's what being human is all about... Right? And... That's what he wished for...

Aster didn't even notice he was crying til he felt a knot stuck in his throat. Tears were running down his freckled cheeks as he still kept staring in the mirror.

*knock knock*

"AAH!" Aster screams for the third time in a row once he hears someone knocking on the door.

"Aster, are you okay? I heard you yelling" Asha's voice came worriedly from the other side of the door "May I come in?"

Aster quickly dried his own tears with his pillow "Oh he-hey Asha! Ye-yeah sure, I'm fine, just uh- I fell from the bed" he lied, trying to disguise how hoarse his voice sounded

Asha opened the door, wearing a simple orange night gown and holding a candle "Did you hurt yourself? That was a pretty loud scream"

She wasn't actually buying this "Fell from the bed" talk, she knew by now Aster sometimes had the bad habit of keeping any negative feelings to himself. They still had to work through that.

Aster chuckled awkwardly "Heheh oops, I should probably apologize to Dahlia, her parents and the neighbors tomorrow, shouldn't I?" he tried to lighten the situation, but the shakiness in his voice gave it away that he wasn't feeling well

Asha set next to him on the bed and placed the candle on the night stand "Aster, you know you can tell me anything... I want to help." She held his hand, soothingly caressing it with her thumb. With his other hand Aster dried another tear that threatened to fall from the corner of his eye. Asha gently held his other hand as she said "You can cry if you need to"

And that was enough to make Aster break into tears.

The two of them hugged, as Asha caressed his back gently and whispered words of reassurance, his sobbing slowly subsided into small hiccups, and later to just some spaced out shaky breaths.

Soon, Aster was able to take deep breaths and calm himself, although he had calmed down, the two remained in the embrace, like neither of them wanted to let go.

"... I'm afraid of the unknown." Aster admitted in a sigh "Of not knowing what'll happen with us in the future... What if something worse than the royals comes and I- I can't keep you safe..." Aster's voice started shaking again.

Asha held him closer "I'm afraid too... Everyone's afraid of not knowing what'll happen next, that's part of life" she explained, feeling her own heart ache, as she indeed understood what Aster meant, or at least part of it "But we promised we'd protect each other, remember? That means I'm here for you too" She let go of the hug to look at him in the eyes with a smile "So don't put so much pressure on yourself, okay? We're in this together"

Aster's tears still glistened with the moonlight coming from the window, but he had a bittersweet smile.

"Thank you..." Aster pondered for a moment, and then asked "Is it okay if we cancel those plans we had for tomorrow and just... Stay home? Maybe just talking?... I think I want take the day to relax" He wasn't sure if it was selfish of him to ask that

"Of course we can." Asha replied warmly "That's actually a great idea, to be honest, we've been showing you so much human things everyday it probably got you kinda stressed, huh?"

Aster hugged her once again, she didn't know how much that meant to him.

"Thank you for understanding... I love you, Asha."

Asha hugged him back with a smile "I love you too, Aster"

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

Dang that was a lot. I had to do some research about dream symbolism, look up the meanings of "Not being able to scream in a dream" and "Sinking in quick sand in a dream" and also "Free falling in a dream" for more insight.

Basically what I wanted to explore was both Aster's fear of not being strong enough to protect Asha, a fear that carried over since their star boy days to his human days, and also the guilt that comes from not feeling 100% happy after getting something you wanted all your life. Aster wished to be human for so long, so he feel like he doesn't have the right to feel sad, otherwise they're being ungrateful, when of course there's nothing wrong with not being happy all the time, that's something Aster still gotta work through.

In conclusion, Aster needs some therapy, luckily Asha is the next closest thing.

Tagging yall cause I've been teasing this angst for days now lol @gracebeth3604 @uva124 @emillyverse @oh-shtars @signed-sapphire @kstarsarts

#wish rewrite #wish reimagined #kingdom of wishes #ask

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deathnguts · 6 months ago

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Hi here’s an entry for the @bartylusmicrofic June prompt challenge

Day 1: Earn

CW: indirect misgendering (trans regulus, the misgendering is done in reference of his expectation in the family as an afab person), arranged marriage discussion, kind of objectification of women ngl (upper class families viewing their daughters as trophies to be handed out to men they like rather than, yknow, people who should have a say in who they marry)

Pure blood marriages had always been pretentious and strange. Each one made the front page of every newspaper, always accompanied by a photo of neither the groom nor the bride looking nearly as excited as the journalists writing about them. An announcement of a baby to be would come next and make even more buzz, and then a few months later the birth would take over the whole damn paper.

Barty never gave a right shit about any of it, but he had to learn to when his boyfriend and his best friend were both pure bloods growing closer and closer to being married off when they graduated.

The Rosier’s married young and had as many kids as they possibly could (Evan had five siblings, after all) but affairs and divorce ran rampant through each generation. So Evan’s only fear around his impending marriage was the children, since he had no interest in being a father. But neither did his, and he turned out fine. (Ahem.)

But the Blacks? That was an entirely different ballpark of nightmarish marionette control from the previous generations.

Proper Blacks were loyal to death to the partners they met at the alter. Proper Blacks learned to despise their partners and their children for being spawns of said partner. Proper Blacks inherited that hate like another family heirloom to be passed down. It was like the older generation enjoyed match making their children into marriages they knew would fail behind closed doors and crumble into festering hatred.

Regulus was renowned for being a proper Black, since his brother had gone and fucked it up so badly. And in just two years, he would expected to take up the biggest role that expectation had laid out for him. Being born a woman, he wasn’t even allowed to postpone the marriage to when his career was in a better place or even have a hand in choosing his partner.

Or, he wouldn’t. If this generation had been as ‘fruitful’ as the past ones had been.

This generation had only produced one boy to the Black family name, and that was the same boy that had been burned from the tapestry three years ago. Other pure blood families had had similar luck, leading there to be no pure blood boys left for Regulus to be sold off to. (Evan’s mother had seen this coming and arranged her few sons’ marriages before they could even walk.)

This had created a boom in the most boring competition in the rich, male halfblood population in politics and paper pushing to try and convince Orion Black that they or their sons were worthy of marrying his only daughter. A chance to slot their name in the most ancient and noble house of Black’s tapestry was enough to have men like that foaming at the mouth. The power, the prestige, the fame, one could say, would be the greatest prize they could imagine.

Barty didn’t give a fuck about any of that.

What he did care about was Regulus. Regulus wasn’t a trophy, he was everything. And if Barty had a chance of actually marrying him instead of having to just accept the looming threat of their relationship ending with their Hogwarts career, he was going to fucking take it.

Barty never been one to brag about how rich or politically important his father was because he’d rather wring his own neck. But he’d have to make do because he was sure being the son of the next minister would put him above every other pathetic fuck trying to sell themselves as something important and prideful enough for the house of Black to care.

Barty had already planned on scoring high on his O.W.L’s, just because he knew he could and figured it would be fun. He had planned to do so off the cuff, he wanted to see how good he could do without studying like his life depended on it like everyone else did. But now he’d be joining the masses in the library because he would be getting straight O’s. You could count on one hand how many wizards had done that, and he’d be joining the list. Orion could try to ignore him then.

And to top it off, Barty would be taking the dark mark. He knew he would anyway since he knew Regulus and Evan had to and it would piss off his dark-magic-hating father, but now it was for so much more. He knew he wasn’t pure. He knew this chance wasn’t supposed to be his. But it was his now, and he’d be as close to pure as he could to attain it fully.

The extra work would be beyond worth it when he reached the peak of his goal, when he had his ring on Regulus’ finger. He’d do it all again, and he’d do so much more. He’d kill for this chance. He would forgo his wand and tear someone apart with nothing but his hands and relish in the blood caking under his nails for this chance. A little competition didn’t mean anything, especially when it was his game in the end.

All Barty had to do was to earn it.

And earn it, he would.

#I tried #marauders au #like kind of #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #bartylus #starkiller #regulus black #the most ancient and noble house of black #orion black #regulus arcturus black #trans regulus #arranged marriage #evan rosier

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what-a-weird-rose · 1 year ago

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Jegulily: The Things I Want to Do to You (And for You to Do to Me)

Pairing: Regulus Black / James Potter / Lily Evans

Rating: E

Prompt: Threesome

Word Count: 5.6 k

The town is quiet as the morning begins; Regulus can hear the bakers calling from the open windows as they instruct one another to complete various tasks. It's on mornings such as these that Regulus remembers why he relishes working alone- why he was overjoyed at the prospect of owning the shop himself.

He recalls the day clearly in his mind’s eye as he slips his tunic over his head and stuffs his woolen-socked feet into leather boots. Sirius had finally succeeded in escaping the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, and he’d offered Regulus the chance to flee with him to a neighboring kingdom willing to harbor two runaway lords. He recalls as he walks down the spiral stairs the face of anguish that overtook his brother’s features as Regulus denied him, though it would be for the best. Regulus was scared, of course that was a factor to his staying, but he also was prideful, perhaps even more so than Sirius. Regulus refused to allow the House that had burnt them so badly to stand strong after him- if he was to leave, he was going to burn everything down around him first.

He’d started by ensuring safety for his allies, family that had protected the brothers when their mother’s rage consumed her and their father’s drink consumed him. Then, he focused on friends that the House would pull down with; there were certain people he was willing to let burn, others he spent long nights tracking safety for.

In the end, Regulus managed to tear the House of Black down from the inside. Over the course of two years, he planted seeds of doubt in his paranoid father’s head as to the loyalty of his advisors; he used Orion’s drinking against his mother, and Walburga’s rage against his father. Regulus had proven what so many had known for so long: the only thing that could permanently destroy the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black was itself. There was nothing left within the rubble. His cousins were married off -both Bellatrix and Narcissa safe behind the walls of houses Lestrange and Malfoy, respectively, and Andromeda had found a farm boy to love somewhere far enough where the family couldn’t track her. All Regulus had left to do was find his brother, which was far easier said than done.

He had half expected Sirius to show up as the House imploded on itself, to watch the desecration of their family from the outside as he’d always wanted. But Sirius never came. For a long time, Regulus wondered if he was somewhere so far that he was unable to receive news as to the outcome of his blood- or worse, he could receive it and simply chose not to. Not until three years after the fall of House Black did Regulus hear news of the brother he’d lost. Sirius was living in the neighboring kingdom he'd once spoken about, living the noble life without the responsibility. Regulus had kicked himself, of course Sirius had stayed close!

It was a week-long journey from the old family home Regulus had taken to staying in -just because he’d desecrated his family didn’t mean he gave up all their funds- to the outskirts of the kingdom, Gryffindor. Sirius did not receive him when Regulus arrived, as he was informed by the kindly staff, the man was in the heart of the kingdom with the prince -likely causing mischief, one of the maids had said ruefully.

Regulus arrives at the bottom of the stairs and surveys the shop- nothing out of the ordinary, not that he’d expected much. For the first few years after the fall, Regulus had become almost as paranoid as his father, constantly looking over his shoulder, waiting for the other shoe to drop hard. The retaliation he’d expected never came, likely because all the House’s friends were also its greatest enemies, and seemed content to lap at the rewards which came from staying far out of Regulus’ way.

He'd had the forethought to stock the shelves last night before turning in, and he thanked himself for it. Something about the way the shop smelled as the fresh herbs and spices, pages and ink, and bubbling cauldrons, mixed in the air gave him a wonderful feeling of safety. Regulus takes pride in the way the space looks; he thinks it's only natural after he spent so long carefully renovating the inside.

He walks languidly over the door, where he flips the sign and opens the two curtains over the giant stained-glass windows. He stares for a moment at the light that refracts through the yellow and orange glass onto the floor; the sun design was created by Pandora, and it floods both the room and Regulus with warm light.

Customers come and go in waves, Regulus found early on, he’s especially busy near the holidays -particularly busy near the holidays for the old religion. People want spices and herbs for medicine, they want colorful ink and carefully creased parchment for letters and notes, and they want specially made tonics for various specific ailments. Regulus likes being needed. He likes knowing that Madam Fulk will come in every other day to get a tonic for her husband’s bad knee, and he likes knowing that she still wants Regulus to come to their Sunday dinners, even though her son came back from traveling over a month prior. He likes knowing that his life has an impact on others’.

Today isn’t much different as he sets aside a book on pediatric medicine for Missus Lhun, who can’t afford the prices of the physician’s medicine -which Regulus can make better and for significantly less. He hears the chime of the little bell Sirius had installed, and makes a vague greeting as he continues to scour his shelf for a book that he knows is there.

“Hello, excuse me,” he hears a quiet voice say. And, he’s heard that voice before- or, rather, he’s heard that tone before, desperately wanting to be heard, but being too fearful to say anything too loud.

Regulus turns around to greet this person properly before dropping The Matron’s Guide to Pediatric Care by Madam Pomfrey on the ground, his jaw following quickly after.

Lily Evans is, by far, the most beautiful woman in the kingdom of Gryffindor. Fiery red hair and piercing green eyes- she puts all other women to shame. Or so Regulus has heard.

He isn’t quite sure what to make of her at first, of course she’s beautiful, she wouldn’t have made it half as far as a woman on stage without being beautiful, he hears his drunken-father say. But there is more to her, he gathers quickly as she scowls at him as he lifts off the floor, book in hand. Evans wears a large sunhat, which is made to cover her hair, yet fails to conceal anything else about her, frankly, recognizable figure. Her clothes are clearly too nice for the area, fitting more to the high society, grand houses nearest to the castle proper; her wrists are adorned with gold bands encrusted with emeralds and peridots. Regulus can tell she isn’t meant to be here, and she obviously is aware of it too.

“You’re Black, yes?” She says suddenly, with an air of urgency. Before he has the mind to reply she says, “Regulus Black? A friend of mind said you might be able to help me out.” Regulus nods dumbly, playing with the fraying corners of the pediatrics books.

Evans stares at him for a moment, as if expecting him to read her mind, before scoffing and setting a small box on the counter.

“What is this?” Regulus asks finally after a few moments; Evans sighs, as if deeply put upon.

“My engagement ring.” She lifts the lid of the velvet box to reveal a large gold banded ring with several large gemstones encrusted into it.

“You must like green,” Regulus adds airily, trying desperately to recall if he ever advertised ring resizing, or recoloring, or anything in relation to jewelry at all.

“He left it in my post box- my post box!” She hisses, digging her nails into the wooden counter before her, “and he knows damn well I can’t return it! How exactly does one walk up to the crown prince and say, ‘hmm actually, I don’t quite feel like marrying you, here you are.’?”

Regulus stutters to a stop, suddenly filled with too much information to handle at once. “The crown prince? James Potter?” Evans nods solemnly, as if close to becoming resigned to her fate. “What exactly do you want me to do with it?”

Evans sighs before becoming incredibly stiff and turning toward the door, “for now, hide me!” She shouts, throwing herself behind the counter and crouching down near Regulus’ feet as her pretty white and pastel pink dress flared out.

As Evans looks up at him with a look of desperation, Regulus hears the sharp chime of the door again.

He feels the energy within the shop shift dangerously as his eyes meet with one James Potter.

Regulus thinks he is certainly going to die. He can feel Evans’ hand pressing on his foot as she shifts silently to sit against the counter with her dress puffed up around her. And he can feel, and see, as James Potter, crown prince, rakes his eyes over Regulus, as if analyzing some great mystery.

“You’re Sirius’ brother.” James says with finality, as though the truth of it matters less than his perception of the matter. “Told me about you, said you didn’t want to come here, we’re ‘too airheaded,’ here in Gryffindor,” James suddenly gets very close to the counter, and Regulus realizes with great clarity that he was doomed the moment he woke up.

James scoffs then, smacking his belt with a hard hand before surveying the shop, “quite the place you’ve got yourself. Gryffindor must not be too bad, huh?” He asks, and Regulus thinks for a very long second that his head is about to be forcibly removed from his neck, before James Potter, crown prince, turns back to him with a broad grin and gleaming eyes.

“What?” Regulus asks dumbly, almost as confused about this as when Sirius asked about what women felt like during sex.

James Potter, crown prince, laughs fondly, as if he’d known Regulus all their lives, and says jovially, “you felled the great House of Black, and for that,” he steps back two paces before dramatically bowing, “I am in your debt.”

Regulus thinks -which he is certain he needs to stop doing- and wonders if he’s actually about to die, because he feels really close to it.

James walks all about the shop, calling out loudly when he finds something interesting -dye for one’s hair, long needles for weaving large bundles of herbs, and the old book that Regulus keeps in the back of non-specialized tonics he can make within the day. He wanders and points things out and carries things back to the counter when he realizes that Regulus is planted at his station -Lily keeps a death grip on his ankle through the whole ordeal, he isn’t sure if its for his sake, her’s, or the both of them.

James wanders about like a small child allowed free-reign in a candy shop, except somehow worse, because James Potter, crown prince, brings forth small trinkets and books from the shelves and asks in depth questions about them.

Evans remains huddled by Regulus’ feet, a hand clamped tightly over her mouth as she listens intently to James’ pattering around the shop.

An hour later, James Potter, crown prince, leaves, exclaiming, “I’ll be back Regulus Black, mark my words!”

Evans sighs deeply as the door shuts behind him, she reaches up and Regulus has the good sense to grasp her wrists to aid her. He pulls her as gently as he can and feels his heart stutter as her face blooms red.

“I’m so sorry- I- He- damnit,” Evans stumbles over her words, like a fawn that hasn’t gotten used to its legs yet. She tries again, “I didn’t realize he’d followed me here, I’m sorry.” She makes her way back to the other side of the counter, biting her bottom lip. “You probably want an explanation, don’t you.”

Regulus nods, and watches dumbfounded as she places the velvet box back onto the counter.

“I got this in my post box last night, I suppose I could’ve thought nothing of it, except its so. . . specific, here, look,” Evans pulls the ring out of the box and allows him to peer into the inner curve where the distinct carving of Evermore could be seen in the dim glow of candlelight. “It’s a thing- sort of hard to explain that part, but I know it's him. Especially now.” She sucked in a deep breath before returning the ring to its box and continuing, “he was outside the theater when I finished my last show for the afternoon; he was asking me if I got his proposal, what I thought, the whole thing, and I just. . . I got overwhelmed, James isn’t a bad guy by any means he’s just. . .”

“A lot.” Regulus finishes for her, gathering enough courage to lay a gentle hand over-top of her's. “I think I can only imagine,” he says cheekily, feeling his face flush as she grasps his hand.

“I tried to tire him out by running about town, but that man has more stamina than brains, I fear,” they chuckle, and Regulus’ stomach swoops as her thumb swipes gently back and forth on the back of his hand. “I’d never seen your shop before today, and I thought that maybe it could provide me enough cover to ward him off for now.” Regulus shrugs noncommittally and Evans laughs heartily. “You did help a lot, Regulus. Even if you think you didn’t. You could’ve given me away and faced no consequence, but you help your tongue.” Evans pulls back and tucks the velvet box into the pouch by the waistband of her skirt, “for what it’s worth, thank you, Regulus.” She places a peck on his cheek before scampering out of the shop, looking left and right out the door before darting down the road.

Regulus is absolutely certain he’s finally dead.

Once the sun is low beneath the horizon, Regulus trudges upstairs on aching feet, thinking back on the day’s events.

His regular customers came in as scheduled, greeting him cheerfully and making polite conversation. But there was something so off- so consuming about the Evans-James Potter, crown prince, situation.

The interaction replays in his mind’s eye as he pours hot water into the porcelain tub. He ignores the slight stinging to his skin as he sinks down into the warm depth of the bath, resting his head on the lip of the tub, and recalling every detail he possibly can.

Regulus wakes the next morning more exhausted than when he’d fallen asleep. His mind was muddled with confusing narratives that contradicted and pressed against his skull, leaving him with a blinding migraine that he could do little for. As much as he was able and willing to sell medicinal tonics to others, there was something -likely deeply ingrained in him by his mother- that shot down any implication of taking medicine, especially for pain.

So, Regulus suffered. Through the long day, even as the sun began to lower along the horizon, his migraine remained, steadfast in its intrusion. He was more careful than ever, double checking ingredients, rereading written orders, and reconfirming every detail thrice before acting on anything.

He’s wiping down his cutting board when he hears the bell chime once more. Regulus doesn’t have to look up to know that it's late- too late to be coming in expecting anything grand from him, his mind supplies begrudgingly. He feels slow, like he’s wading through thick honey, trying desperately not to drown in it.

Eventually, Regulus is forced to look up at the guest as he literally feels their eyes bore into him like a blade, sharp and unwavering.

“Hello again, Evans,” he says slowly, trying to ignore the intense smell of her perfume, which wafts in his direction and seems hellbent on suffocating him.

Evans seems pleased to finally have his attention, and begins her visit by dropping the small box back on his counter, “I know it's late, but I was wondering if there is any way you can. . . I don’t know, ward him off, he’s very persistent.”

Regulus laughs despite himself and shuffles up to the counter, peering down at the box, “I’m no wizard, Evans, unfortunately I am only capable of relatively modern sciences.”

Evans sighs, but she seems hardly displeased. If anything, she seems to have done it to keep up a front.

“Tell me, Miss Evans, why exactly do you refuse him?” Regulus implores, and sets to work grinding cinnamon and dried holly.

Evans stares at him, and Regulus wonders how she became so renowned for her acting when she was so obvious in her face. Then, she clears her throat, leans over the counter slightly, and speaks: “He’s arrogant, that for starters, he thinks just because he’s the prince that he can get anything- anyone he wants. He’s crude, I’ve heard his ‘jokes’, his commentary on the castle maids.” She sniffs, and Regulus is reminded, oddly, of Bellatrix, before she went bonkers and was married off to the highest -re: most tolerable- bidder. Evans holds the same haughtiness, the same unshakable pride, the quick-wit, but, perhaps most disturbingly, they share the same glint in their eyes as they recall the sins of those that have wronged them.

Regulus shudders.

“I see,” He says eventually as the room fills with tense silence, “he certainly seemed villainous when he was in here just yesterday,” Regulus continues, and Evans narrows her eyes, as if completely aware of where he intends to go. “I do say, I suspect the crown prince must be. . .” He pauses for dramatic effect, lowering his voice and looking around the shop, “a puppy-slayer.”

Regulus expects Lily to roll her eyes and scoff, to huff and leave him to the mercy of his -ever growing- migraine. Instead, she laughs loudly as one of the cauldrons behind him gives a loud, crude-sounding, burp.

“I suspect the crown prince may have something to do with that, too.”

James Potter, crown prince, enters Regulus' shop three days after his original visit. He enters quietly, save for the chime of the bell, and shuffles to the back of the parlor to unsubtly watch as Regulus tends to the only customer in the building.

Leila Strong was not living up to her name, as it goes. She had developed a horrible cough over the spring that still had worn even into the late summer. Regulus had gone through every remedy, every medicine the physician had prescribed her -discounted until he could prove it would work- and had seen no results. His pride was almost wounded, and would be in shambles had he prescribed the too expensive medicines to her. Now, she sat in front of his counter, cane resting on the leg of the chair he’d pulled up for her, asking what to do next.

“There aren't many other options, I can always tell you to go to Madam Pomfrey, but other than that, any stronger brew would be subject to investigation by the Crown. And you know how they are.” She laughs, though it's breathy and deprived of real joy.

“I’ll see if I can’t make the trip over, but you know how it gets. . .” Regulus nods, and, even though he has never really struggled, not in the way the people in the lower town have, he’s seen it. He’s seen true desperation, he’s felt the fear that comes with knowing death is following you, waiting for you to misstep. Leila nods, grasping his hand in her own before fiddling with her cane and standing, hobbling toward the exit.

“A gentleman would’ve offered to escort the lady out.” James Potter, crown prince, states proudly, and Regulus wonders if James is about to run off to make the offer himself.

Regulus pushes the chair Leila was just in into the corner, “I tried once, she threatened to beat my skull in with her cane if I ever implied she was incapable of walking by herself again.” Regulus almost revels in the shock that registers on James’ face. James Potter, crown prince, he mentally adds.

“Oh.” James says, though it seems distant, as if he’s lost in thought, “has she not gone to see the physicians?”

Regulus snorts, and James looks thoroughly offended, “of course she has,” Regulus says, pulling two books off the shelf, “they go to the physicians, get prescribed something or other for whatever their ailment is, and bring the prescription and problem here. I figure out what exactly it is they are being given, I make it better than the physicians could dream of making it, and charge less than the physicians would ever be willing to make it.” Regulus rolls his shoulders, sitting on his stool and flipping through pages, “that’s what I do here.”

James nods slowly, as if taking small bites of the information while trying desperately to digest it all.

“You know Lily Evans, don’t you?” James Potter, crown prince, asks suddenly.

“I’ve certainly heard of her, never been to one of her shows.” Regulus lies about both things; he’s very good at lying, or so he’s been told.

“She came in here a few days ago, I think.” James says without any of his usual bravado or confidence.

“I think I’d remember if Lily Evans came into my shop.” Regulus replies haughtily, and he finds himself sniffing, not unlikely Lily had.

“I suppose you would, wouldn’t you.” James replies, though he sounds slightly more suspicious than before. “Are you certain, though?”

Regulus nods, and resents the clenching of his heart as James’ face falls.

"Er Regulus?"

“Yes?”

“Uh- nevermind, I’ll just- well, I-” James grabs his hand, placing a gentle kiss against the soft skin on the back of it, before dropping it and making a mad dash for the door.

Two days after the utterly confusing encounter with James Potter, crown prince, Regulus experienced the most odd, strange, and baffling thing he’d ever managed in all his days.

The morning started normally, mind. He’d woken without a headache for the first time in days, and felt thoroughly energized through the early morning and into the mid-afternoon. By supper, he had attended to seven separate customers who all intended to order specialized tonics, which Regulus was all too pleased to agree to.

Then, in the most bizarre fashion. The door to his shop was slammed open while he was in the midst of battle with an aloe vera leaf- viciously clawing at each other until Regulus eventually got the upper hand. Only to find both Lily Evans and James Potter, crown prince, trying to crowd into his shop at light speed, talking over one another at impossible paces.

Both were speaking to him, he gathered as he tried to -very subtly- remove his greasy, frilling pink apron -which Dorcas had gotten him- while the two seemed to battle against each other through sheer volume alone.

“Oh, and Regulus you’re just too-”

“Wonderful, and I thought I was in love with her-”

“But there is something about you, and I can’t help but think-”

“What if it was you all along?”

Back and forth, over and over, the two sparred, desperately trying to gain his attention.

Regulus’ eyes bounced back and forth between the two, never lingering longer than their portion of the conversation -if you could call this a conversation- called for.

“Hold on, hold on! What are you two on about?”

Lily spoke first, her voice loud and clear enough to subdue James Potter, crown prince, for a half-second, “I want you, Regulus, I wish to court you properly, starting tonight with supper.”

James recoiled, sending a glare that didn’t at all fit his features to her, “no, that cannot happen! Regulus, I wish to court you, starting tonight! Come to the palace, I’ll show you everything I can offer you.”

“Oh, please! Regulus, refuse him and come with me, we’ll have supper at Benjy’s.”

On and on, they continued, seemingly unaware of Regulus’ swaying back and forth.

His mind reeled as he half-heartedly listened to their bickering.

“What if-” He pauses as they silence immediately, and he is suddenly reminded of growing up in the silence of Grimmauld Manor, of whispers that were always too loud, of never being quiet enough. “What if I don’t want one of you?”

They both seem to deflate as they take in the words, and Regulus is left to backtrack to the best of his ability.

“No, no, I mean- damn- both! What if I want both of you?” James’ head snaps to stare at him as if Regulus were the most brilliant person to have ever walked to the earth; Lily’s eyes widen as she looks James up and down before turning back to Regulus.

“I’ll accept it, if only because you’re worth it.”

James laughs from deep with his stomach. He takes two long strides forward toward Regulus and lifts large hands to his cheeks, “I’ve waited so long for this; say yes?”

Regulus thinks he’s ascended, “yes.”

James presses his lips against Regulus’ softly, deepening the connection after Regulus relaxes.

“James Potter, you whore!” Lily yells indignantly, yanking the taller boy off of Regulus.

The next thing Regulus is aware of is Lily's soft, plush lips against his own and her lithe fingers threading through the short little hairs at the base of his skull. Somewhere in the background he can hear James scoff unhappily, and Regulus thinks desperately for a solution. He figures, eventually, to reach a hand out and allow James free reign of his neck and shoulders. This, of course, meant he’d have to remove his tunic, interrupting Lily’s flow and-

“Come on, let’s go upstairs,” Regulus says, ending their bickering for a moment as he leads them, Lily in front, James behind, up the spiral staircase and into his private chambers. “Now,” Regulus says, placing a finger over James’ lips to pause him, “no arguing, if you want to be here, you have to play nice, and-” his brain short circuits as he watches James lift his own tunic over his head. “Um- well, be nice, and all that-” Regulus moans loudly as James continues his ministrations on Regulus’ neck, making quick work of marking fair skin.

Lily follows suit, taking Regulus’ hands in her own and tracing the gentle curve of her breasts with his hands. She slips from her skirts and unties her corset until she is left in only her slips, of which she pulls off as easily as James had.

Lily continues to grope herself with Regulus’ hands as James makes use of Regulus’ mouth, shoving his tongue into Regulus’ mouth as though he’d die otherwise.

James kisses him like nothing else- as though there were nowhere else he’d rather be; Lily seemed to be in agreement as she breathily moaned Regulus’ name as she squeezed her breasts with his hands.

James separated from the kiss, running his hands up and down Regulus’ sides, looking at Lily and communicating with her via only eye contact. James’ hands were suddenly under his tunic running flat against Regulus’ torso.

“Yes?” Lily asks, kissing up Regulus’ hand to his forearm. Regulus nods, not trusting enough in his voice to say anything.

James yanks up his tunic, exposing Regulus’ upper body entirely to the chill of the room. His nipples harden and his skin breaks out in goosebumps.

Lily giggles as she grasps his cheeks within her hands, pulling him down slightly to kiss.

If kissing James is like a hurricane, fast and wild, kissing Lily is like a tornado, fast and wild, yes, but for very different reasons.

Her fingers find purchase in those same small hairs at the base of his skull, providing her ample leverage over the tilt of his head. She uses her newfound control to lean his head backwards, and subsequently onto James’ shoulder, to provide space on his neck for her to mark -at least where James had not already been.

James holds onto Regulus’ waist and hips, running large, calloused hands up and down Regulus’ sides, and pulling him back just enough to feel James’ hard cock pressing against his pants.

Regulus wonders for a moment if Lily is as wet as he -and he suppose James- is hard; he considers until he realizes that he is allowed to check that sort of thing.

His hand shoots out from his side and slips between Lily’s legs to find a considerable wetness. Regulus almost smirks as Lily whines before realizing that James has burrowed into the crook of his neck as he humps lazily against Regulus’ ass.

“James, up.” Regulus instructs, and he is instantly aware of how much control he has. Jame rises from the bed, where he’d been kneeling on the mattress. Regulus points towards the end of the bed, and waits for James to get situated before arranging Lily at the pillows.

Lily lays on her back, head resting comfortably against the mountain of pillows as Regulus leans down and gives a solid lick to her cunt. She gives a mixture of a giggle and moan as Regulus licks again and again, hand reaching up at some point to begin twisting and pulling and playing with her nipples.

James watches, kneeling at the end of the bed, as Regulus licks Lily’s cunt viciously. He strokes his cock slowly, observing every motion either body makes as they are absorbed by their pleasure. He worries his lip for a moment, concerned they’d forgotten him, before Regulus daintily lifts his ass off the mattress and pushes up against James’ cock. He groans, and forgets immediately about any doubt he’d had.

James uses the small vial of lube -he loathes thinking of another man using it for Regulus- to stretch Regulus’ ass. He works his middle finger in first, listening intently as Regulus moans against Lily’s clit, sending her into a frenzy of almost-orgasm. She grasps Regulus’ hair and pulls him off her while she pants.

“Not yet, not yet.” She breathes over and over, as if she were trying to convince herself. Regulus submits to her, though he does slyly continue in the form of licking and nipping at her thighs and hips.

James presses another finger into Regulus’ tight hole once he thinks the first is ready. He burns the image of Regulus biting Lily’s inner thigh to stifle the volume of his moan.

After a few minutes of scissoring and allowing spit to fall from his tongue and onto the crack of Regulus’ ass, James decides he’s ready to add a final finger in.

He pumps desperately, trying to stretch Regulus quickly and thoroughly. Once Regulus believes himself ready, he swings his free hand behind himself, as he continues to suck at Lily’s cunt, and gives a nice loud smack to his ass cheek.

James blushed a violent crimson as he stroked his cock with the lube-he-didn’t-want-to-think-about and began stuffing Regulus’ ass full with his cock.

Regulus lifts his head slightly away from Lily’s cunt as he focuses entirely on James’ cock filling him from behind. He whines as he feels Lily’s fingers on those short strands maneuvering his face toward her left breast, when she petted his cheek while he sucked her nipple.

“Pretty, pretty boy.” Lily says softly, eyes peering over Regulus’ shoulder to watch James’ cock push in and out of Regulus’ hole.

James grunts his agreement, hands finding stability resting on Regulus’ hips as he rocks them back and forth.

Regulus whines as he focuses on the sensations: Lily’s fingers running through his curls, James’ hands on his hips holding him steady, James cock balls-deep in his ass, and Lily tit in his mouth. He sucked like his light depended on it, pulling her nipple between his teeth and sucking it less-than-gently.

He feels a sharp slap to his ass before he realizes what he’d done.

“Bad, bad Regulus.” Lily admonishes, pulling him by the hair away from her breasts -which were red- and back toward her cunt, which he would hardly protest.

James tutted, hand smoothing over the skin that he’d smack, squeezing and pinching Regulus' ass.

James thrusts again and again into that wonderful, tight heat, lost in it as the world fades to leave only Regulus, Lily, and himself. He feels his balls tighten in that wonderful way they do when he’s about to cum.

“I’m- fuck- I’m cumming.” James says before pulling his cock out of Regulus and tapping aggressively on his ass check before cumming hard and fast across Regulus long, pale back.

Lily cums not long after him, toes curling as her thighs snapped shut around Regulus’ head, which he didn’t seem to mind. James watches happily as Lily curls in on herself before stretching out, moaning very loudly.

Regulus cums last, immediately after Lily as he’d taken to dry humping the mattress for some reprieve. His cock hangs heavy and low under him as he shoots cum on the bed sheets.

#(smutty) tales from the hogwarts broom closets #tales from the hogwarts broom closests #marauders #young marauders #the marauders #marauders era #dead gay wizards #mwpp #mwpp era #regulus black #james potter #lily evans #jegulily #smut

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twinsunstars · 6 months ago

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Wherever Your World Is - Chapter 1

Fanfic Summary: A young mermaid filled with hope discovers secrets about her past and seeks to reunite with her family at many costs, getting her chance to be with the land dwellers she had grown so fascinated of. The mermaid strikes a deal with dark magic and begins her mission of becoming a human again. (A Bad Batch + Little Mermaid AU)

Chapter 1 Summary: A group of brothers remember the little sister they had lost, a sprinkle of hope igniting during a ritual of loss.

Notes: Hey friends! Back in early May, many of you had liked my idea of a Little Mermaid AU with the Bad Batch, and it is finally beginning! I can't promise weekly chapters or anything like that, so chapters will come out whenever I finish them! Thank you to @kurlyfrii for being my mutual partner throughout this project and for other mutuals always patiently listening to my ideas! I hope you all enjoy the ride this fic is in for! Read Chapter 1 below either on here or on AO3! Reblog to share!! divider by @stars-n-spice !

taglist: @kurlyfrii @orion-tyche @magicandmundane @biancadiangelosghost @sntofbirbs @half-truths-and-hyperbole-louk @fritoley @omegafett99 @bossboudicca @amalthiaph @ahsokashawarma1138 (let me know if you want to be tagged for future chapters!)

Oceans hold many secrets. The waves crashed against each other while sea creatures swam freely, playing their part to survive among the actions of land dwellers. The depths of the sea were dark, hiding away all those secrets.

Tales often sprung from those oceanic secrets that became rumors and myths on land. Krakens, sea killers, aquabeasts, the sea leviathan, and even mermaids. The stories of mermaids became the most loved tale, land dwellers either visualizing them as the most beautiful kind of creatures or the most dangerous. No one knew the true pain a mermaid could suffer under the sea. Their lives were stripped away from living freely on the surface of land. If they were to shed tears, each drop would simply just carry on with the waves.

Many sea creatures able to reach the ocean’s surface happily relished the soft ocean breeze. They squealed and chirped at each other, enjoying their travels.

A large sea ship painted in the dark colors of black and red moved swiftly across the waves. A large red skull was painted on the ship’s body, the signature emblem of the royal family. Sea creatures quickly swam away from the ship’s path, watching it pass by under the water.

Sailors reigned the sails high into the air. The mast could be visible to any who would be coming nearby. The wind passed through strongly, matching the cloudy weather of the day.

“My princes.” A tall middle-aged man approached four young men positioned in the center of the ship together. “We are approaching the ritual site.”

“Thank you, Shep.” Shep Hazard bowed his head, giving the men room to prepare.

One of the men, who had a tattoo matching the view of a sniper located over his right eye, glanced over at a man standing over the ship’s edge, looking out at the horizon. “Hunter.”

Hunter looked over at his brother. “I know. I’m coming.” His brother gave him a small nod, following his other brothers towards Shep.

Hunter held his red bandana in his hand, allowing the wind to make his dark brown hair fly. He watched the waves move violently, a few small sea creatures hopping up to the surface before falling back into the water. Hunter’s mind remembered how the waves acted the first time his brothers escaped to Pabu, making a new life for themselves.

His family fought as soldiers, a batch of enhanced clones proving themselves useful in the fight. Escaping the war was a hard decision, especially when they were bred specifically to fight one. But things were taking a dark turn. Many clones were disappearing, worlds were becoming more corrupt, and trust was starting to become something nonexistent around others. The enemy was advancing much rapidly and many more lives were being lost every day.

When Hunter and his brothers found out that there was a little clone created for the purpose of destruction, it got them thinking. The clone would be raised and used as a vital weapon for the enemy’s needs once the clone had grown old enough. It was something that could not happen.

After many debates, the clones made the decision to steal the young clone away from their creators to prevent the enemy from getting their hands on the clone. Finding out the clone was a female instead of a regular male was another shock. She was genetically engineered differently and was never going to be a simple soldier thrown into a war. She was meant for much more, and the Batch was not going to let the enemy take advantage of something that could make them win.

The little unnamed female was only a year old, frail to the touch while tubes and injection needles treated her like an object. Hunter remembered holding the clone in his arms gently while they made their escape.

A female clone. Their young sister.

She was safe with them where they were heading, but that didn’t last for long. Someone had taken her away from them, and she was unable to be found for the next thirteen years. The brothers looked as hard as they could with help from others, but there was no sight of their little sister.

Today was the day she had gone missing. The little youngling was ripped away from the family’s hands one dark night on their new home island, her cries echoing in the night until they dropped dead silent. Hunter remembered crying out for his sister, but he couldn’t remember what words came out of his mouth.

A bark broke Hunter’s trance. He tied his bandana around his head, fixing his hair. A large border collie looked up at him, and she appeared to be smiling up at one of her owners. Hunter knelt to give Batcher a scratch behind her ear.

Batcher was rescued by the family when she was found to be one of many creatures being experimented on for her strength and capabilities. Batcher had helped the brothers protect themselves while escaping with their sister, and the young dog had taken a liking to one of his brothers. She always went wherever her family moved, following along and being there whenever she was needed.

Hunter looked over at his younger brothers, who were gathered near Shep. He walked to his brothers, while Batcher followed behind. Shep smiled at Hunter, handing him an exotic golden flower. His brothers also held the same flower carefully in their hands.

To remember their young sister every year on this day, the Batch performed a traditional Pabuan memorial ritual which was commonly used to remember loved ones who were lost. It was a way of blessing their loved one’s soul and honoring their life, as the flower was a symbol of protection and said to be the flowers blooming in the afterlife. The ritual was mostly done in silence to allow those who grieved loss comfort, along with some Pabuan words said to initiate the ritual.

Hunter’s tallest brother, Wrecker, looked down at his flower with a pout. He could remember their sister’s tiny laughs she would make whenever Wrecker tickled her small tummy or Batcher licked her cheek. Hunter put a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder, managing to light a small smile to comfort his brother. Wrecker smiled back. They both missed their sister dearly.

Shep began reciting words in Pabuan almost like a song, beginning the ritual. One sailor kept the ship steady while the ritual began, saying a prayer to themselves. Batcher sat on the ship’s floor, listening to Shep and watching the ritual.

This part of the ocean was said to be the most sacred near the island according to Pabu’s legends. It was often used as a spot for rituals and other traditions for generations. Today it would be used once again to remember a loved one.

The brothers walked over to the ship’s right side where Hunter stood earlier, holding the flowers carefully in their hands. The Batch had become fluent in Pabu’s native language over the years with the help of Tech’s studious nature. They waited for Shep to pause, listening to every word being spoken. Wrecker stood next to his older brother, Echo stood in the middle while holding his flower in his one hand, and Tech and Crosshair stayed with each other.

Hear us, oh dear soul

May our prayers reach you

We remember your memories

Let us call to you

Watch over us with all the love we give you

Listen to our blessings

Shep came to a stop, holding his hands together and closing his eyes in prayer. The Batch began the next step of the ritual, reaching out their hands that held the flower. They closed their eyes, mentally saying a prayer for their sister’s soul. They wished for her to be safe and full of hope, wherever she may be.

Shep and a few other sailors muttered a few words in the native Pabu language as the Batch lowered their heads, finishing their prayers. They allowed their hands to become loose, the golden flowers falling out of their hands. The flowers landed on the ocean’s surface, floating away as the waves carried them. The Batch opened their eyes, watching the flowers leave their ship. They spent an extra minute in silence after the ritual was complete.

“Should we head back to land?” Shep asked. He noticed Hunter growing more drowsy. “I think you all need some rest.”

Tech adjusted his glasses, turning to Shep. “Yes, that would be adequate.”

Shep instructed the sailors to return to the island. Wrecker wiped some tears away, deeply missing their sister. She was so small and innocent. They failed to protect her. Batcher pranced over to her family, giving them some needed comfort.

The ship turned around slowly to head back to land. Hunter remained standing, resting his arms on the ship’s side. The flowers disappeared from view, heading to wherever they were meant to go.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder, looking over to meet eyes with his youngest brother, Crosshair. Hunter could see the concern in Crosshair’s eyes. Crosshair knew how painful it was for Hunter when they had lost their sister. They both didn’t utter a word, but Hunter took in the sympathy he was getting from his brother.

Crosshair let go of Hunter’s shoulders, standing next to him and leaning on Hunter’s shoulder. He used his tongue to move the toothpick in his mouth to his left side, still staying silent. He felt like using words to comfort his older brother, though he also felt it was better to remain in silence in terms of the ritual.

Hunter didn’t move. Crosshair had always performed this act of silent consolation whenever he saw Hunter needed it the most. Crosshair knew he wasn’t the best at trying to make people feel better, but he did whatever he could.

Hunter exhaled. Thirteen long years. Years spent safely away from the war. Years with his brothers. Years without his little sister.

He couldn’t help but feel that their little sister had to be out there somewhere. Alive. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility that she may be dead. Hunter and his brothers spent years searching as hard as they could, and Hunter never stopped trying while they had the chances.

It would likely take a miracle and the Force to bring back their little sister to them. Hunter spent nights secretly praying to himself and sometimes with his brothers. Wherever she may be, she would find her way home to her world.

End Notes: I know I began the fic on an emotional note, but next chapter will be more enjoyable! I hope you all like it so far, please share with others if you want, comment your thoughts, and also check it out on AO3! You all may have a lot of questions but answers will be revealed as the fic carries on and more characters come in! This is just a prologue! Can't wait to see you all next time!

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thatisntverycombefair · 2 months ago

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(Glow in the Dark) Stars in your multitudes

fic under the cut :)))

just a wholesome little javert babysitting cosette fic ft Glow in the Dark stars.

“Uncle Javert! ” Cosette beamed, a few steps behind her babysitter for the day.

“Yes, Cosette?” He responded whilst checking his watch. He’s lost count of his many times he’s checked it and tapped his foot waiting for his niece to finish looking around the odd knick-knack shop they somehow found themselves in.

The knick-knack shop sold what Javert believed was useless tat. Notivality items that attracted tourists rather than the average Parisian citizen. Part of Javert was begging to never see an Eiffel Tower Keychain or a Notre Dame themed mug again. Even seeing the real thing might be too soon.

“I found something,” She smiled. Javert let out a sigh of relief at her words hoping that it would mean they could start heading home.

However, there was something mischievous behind Cosette’s smile. Or maybe it was something playful. Javert found them difficult to differentiate. Either or, she was hiding something behind her back. She teetered back and forth on her feet like an eager beaver or an otter holding a pretty smooth pebble.

“What have you found?” Javert asked, his foot tapping didn't stop, in fact it turned into strides towards the shop’s counter.

He was fully expecting something silly, maybe one of those things which dances when light charges it or one of the dolls with wool for hair and big rosy cheeks.

What Cosette was holding out to him made him arch a brow.

“Stars?” Javert queried slowly, extending his hand on order for Cosette to place it in it so he could get a better look.

“Yep!!” Cosette nodded quickly, her toothy-smile was a joyous sight which could easily rival the sun in how bright it shone.

The packet was small, with uneven staples on flimsy cardboard and plastic encasing several plastic glow in the dark stars of differing sizes. Javert hasn't seen these in years.

When the boys at the orphanage started raving about ‘the new cool thing’. It made Javert scoff and roll his eyes. As a young boy, he believed them to be tedious and meaningless things which lacked lustre. After all, what do plastic glowing stars have in comparison to real stars? The stars which align in the sky with sparkling pinpoint accuracy. The actual stars understand their duty, their order, their design. The neon glow of the plastic doesn't. Javert remembers when some of the boys would stick them to their little sections of walls, their little private observatory. There was no order or structure; half of those kids didn't even know what a constellation was. It irked Javert then. The memory irks him now.

Although Javert never hated the idea of them, he just thought they were rather silly, in the hands of 10 year olds who didn't know their big dipper from their Orion's belt. When he saw the children stick them on their walls he wanted to rip them from their hands and place them in the correct positions himself. Maybe he has a chance now.

“You want these?” Javert asked, brow still raised.

Cosette continued to nod.

“Okay, one condition” Javert continued, Cosette's ears perked up, confusion and curiosity flooding over her young face. Her feet have not stopped teetering. “I get to help you put them up."

Cosette bounced and gave a thumbs up “okay, deal!! Thank you, Uncle Javert!!!!”

It was now Javert's time to nod and smile. Just a little. It was a private smile to himself as he ran his thumb over the lettering.

Now, he can show those boys how to really stick up stars.

“Come on kid, let's make your own private galaxy.” Javert said, once the stars were paid for. He reached his hand out for Cosette, who took it as they finally left the shop.

#lesmisoctober24 #inspector javert #cosette fauchelevent #les mis #les miserables #bricktober #stevie writes

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ladydaybreaker · 6 months ago

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Some Friends to play with!

*cracks knuckles* Alrighty @jamieenthusiast you asked for it haha. So. The Ad Astra Kiddos would like to make some new friends. Let's start with the oldest and go down to the youngest (pick and choose at your leisure! I'll give le pictures from @officialarmrest for them.

Orion

Orion is the eldest of the Working Disassemblers, Uzi and N's son. He looks dead on like his father save for the fact that he dresses more akin to his mother (beanie with his daddy's pilot wings and a hoodie that looks like his mama's). The only difference between him and his father? Orion's got scars around his true eyes, wings and tail from...some things he really doesn't like to talk about. He also very rarely smiles, opting for his mother's resting look of annoyance and/or boredom. Orion's a bit...well, he's his mother's son. Let's just put it at that. He's a bit cold and standoffish (angsty teen energy) until you get to know him. In terms of lil' Mango? The second Orion finds out about the guitar he's sold. Orion's big into music and scavenged an acoustic guitar that his aunt Cyn taught him to play. He'd probably get right along playing with the lil guy and maybe even smile a little bit for the first time in a long time.

Victoria "Tori"

Queen Bee of the school and V and Thad's only child. When she's around her classmates and friends you can definitely see Thad's chill personality and V's sass...but around her family? That's where the sweet little manor maid V comes out full force. Tori is very much V's little doppleganger save for the fact she has very light colored blonde hair. She has her mother's vision glitch and does need glasses (they tend to slide down and she uses her tail to push them up). She's big into nature science and will go on for hours on some cool animal fact that she's found. She also loves flying and is one of the more graceful of the Fledgeling squad.

Astra

N and Uzi's youngest child and only daughter. Astra's a bit different than the rest of her squad...in that being she looks almost 1:1 like Uzi. However, like her brother, it's not all like her look alike parent. She's very bubbly, very excitable, and very much a people person (just like dad!) She loves shiny objects and her clothes and being as pristine and clean as possible. She's even made some of her own jewelry and clothes (She was given a coat like her dad's and a hat similar to her dad's pilot hat...her mom gave her a skull pin she found instead of the pilot wings because Orion took that. She has her mom's old combat boots though!). She has many many rings and bangles and necklaces on her person. Her pride and joys though are a pin of a vaguely earth-like planet encircled by stars and a crescent moon that her aunt J gave her and a crystal collar around her neck with a silver plate that reads 002. She adores her grandma Nori and wants to be just like her...even with adopting her hairstyle. I could definitely see her and Mango bonding over making jewelry (if Astra doesn't scare the poor kiddo away because of her bubbly nature).

Vesper

Finally, there's Vesper. Vesper is a bit of an odd duck but he's a sweet little gentleman. He might as well be, his mother's Cyn. Vesper is a small, young little worker who loves music and can sing like an absolute cherub. Perfect little southern gentleman with his bright blue eyes and freckle artifacts that are shadowed by curly white hair and an equally as white stetson that he may or may not have stolen from his Pa. One of Vesper's favorite things to do is play piano while his Ma plays her violin beside him...but he can and will pick up any instrument he's given and play the heck out of it as easy as breathing. He loves working with his cousin Orion because of that. He also loves penguins and if you get him started talking about penguins that boy will not stop.

Ya don't have to do anything with them if you don't want to, but I saw the chance for these four yahoos to make some friends and I leaped for it.

#ad astra fankiddos #orion doorman #victoria “tori” hart #astra doorman #vesper elliott #murder drones #friends?!#kio's gorgeous art!#jamieenthusiast's oc mango interactions #Possibly #just some fun things perhaps #i'm completely new to this whoops...

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crying-fantasies · 3 months ago

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The Second Unicron anomaly

Masterlist

Optimus, all my life since very young, has been the very example of selfness, sacrifice and that want to do better, be better, because he does so while dragging uncountable things he regrets but still keeps on going while trying to show the others that he is fine when he is anything but that.

G1 Optimus was a childhood crush of mine, I admired him so much, still do, every representation of him makes me believe that there is something worth fighting for.

So, when I started to write a little something about him, well, it's hard, because I've come to idealize him so much that now I realize it's hard to put myself or whoever next to him and not feel it strange (fuck).

Then, the answer comes in the form of Orion Pax.

Hear me out, first, everything and all my stories happen in the IDW1 universe/multiverse where, well, spoiler, Optimus dies to accompany and calm the pain of a grieving father for his child whom was taken from him by the very same war the Primes before Optimus started in an attempted take over of neighboring organic planets in their periphery, it ended catastrophically as for one, the entire population of that planet became dire wraiths, two, the planet itself bared the physical recreation of the mythical Unicron, the devil in cybertronian culture, in a very "fuck you" message for cybertronians in general, three, I know it was all Shockwave fuckery in the timeline but man, it makes you ask yourself that if this Unicron isn't THE Unicron, then where the fuck is he? (Maybe I digged a bit on the TFP and BV for this but we still didn't got there).

Well, long story short, Optimus Prime dies to protect his colony, colony the last of his people, friends and Allies can consider a safe haven, he is ready to do so to protect them and atoning for sins he did and the one he didn't.

It's a sad ending, but an ending nonetheless, just like Megatron on his trial, put to eternal suffering out of his frame.

I gave Megatron a second chance on my stories, of course I can let Optimus have one for himself.

So, Megatron is happy with the LL crew, and while they are in Cybertron something happens, as always, the starship seem to have a strange thing going on with it, the black hole result of Unicron's defeat at the hands of Prime opens, people start screaming when something is being launched out of it, big things get out of it and land on New Cybertron, most know as the free Cybertron or the Functionalism reality Cybertron, everyone believed it to be the mutated Maximals again, but what gets out is-

"Cliff? Cliffjumper is that you?", Bumblebee asks, fluid on his optics, looking at his lost friend, an also just returned Mirage just behind him with Hound, it doesn't take much before the latter drags his lost friends to him for a hug, full of relief.

More pieces start to fall, pieces soon landing around, more mechs, people, all of them are being returned, somehow, before the opening in the black hole ripped.

Carcer is back, with him, his whole crew, Elita One is the first to look at them in awe, she starts to shout, "Where is Unicron?!" when she just came from what was left of the devil itself.

Megatron is fast to search, some even questioned him for it when his own crew followed him, looking out for whoever came in those things, no one remembering what happened when they saw the massive frame of Unicron approaching.

Megatron, in all of this, notices their frames are good as new, no damage done, upgrades gone, as he searches in the many bodies coming back, the sparks reignited, mechs that welcome their loved ones back, faith restored in their optics as Tappet hugs as he can a very confused Hefter who ask where the enforcers are with a frightened face, screaming when he sees Velocitron appear before moving to a path back to it's previous orbital course, knowing where it belongs, followed by Caminus.

When Megatron finds the frame of who he knew would also come back he has to stop for a moment before finally presenting a helping servo to the bot trying to get out of the strange cocoon, who only looks at him, barely recognizing him, the Matrix casing put on him in desperate times gone, as the semi truck finally speaks at him.

"Megatron?"

And the one that asks isn't Optimus Prime, but Orion Pax, and Megatron knows, as this isn't the bot he knew like the back of his own coding, choosing to see this as a mercy more than a punishment when those clear blue optics look at him.

"You look different"

"I'm different, Orion, for good"

"Oh, did you get your work viewed?"

Megatron doesn't have the spark to tell him so, none of them does, not when Orion Pax smiles genuinely without his battle mask, trying to figure out who are the mechs in front of him.

"Yes"

"That's great, good to hear it"

#transformers #tf mtmte #transformers idw #angst #terraformer au!

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yuuniee · 5 months ago

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Question 1 on the oc questions for Renee, Fawn, Asif, and Miriam? I wanna know their theme songs!

A/N: I actually have several, but I’ll share one of them here!

[Twisted Wonderland OC Questions]

1. Do you have a song that represents your OC, if so why?

🕊️ Renée:

Lemme tell you, this song fits her PERFECTLY!

From what I know, Bitter Choco Decoration is a song about pleasing others, and living up to other people’s expectations. Her case is a little similar to that.

In Renée’s past, her mother wanted her to become the ‘perfect daughter’ and did everything she could to make her fit into her view of ‘perfection’. Even went as far as abusing her. She became the ‘perfect’ child her mother always wanted, but it was short lived when she went to Twisted Wonderland.

Still, she was acting like how she was taught in her first year by being cold and cruel to everyone in the beginning. But with time, she started to open up to others more and bit by bit she became more.. herself.

And this lyric in particular is what she really wants to say to her mother.

“I guess I grew up in the end.”

“Hey mom, look at me now..!”

youtube

🦪 Fawn:

Apparently, this song is written from a woman in a toxic and abusive relationship (which is like her and Orion’s past relationship...) and in the end of the song, the woman singing becomes just like the man she despised...

Fawn’s case is a little similar to that, but to sum it up;

Her and Orion were The Couple™ in the school, everyone was talking about them, how cute they look together and some of Orion’s then friends were even suggesting him to take her on a date somewhere good. Fawn was grateful that her feelings were returned too, and she held onto the hope that he gave her for a long time.

However, things didn’t really go as sweet as it was in the beginning. Orion began to pressure her, he became controlling to her and started to monitor everything she did. Fawn was fed up with this, but she didn’t speak up because she wanted her first relationship to keep going and she continuously gave him a second chance. Sure, she had her outbursts and she expressed how upset he was making her, but all Orion did was to basically tell her that if she doesn’t love him anymore, she can just leave.

We know how that ended.

Unlike in Mobius though, Fawn doesn’t become like Orion. But she does learn from her mistakes, that not everyone can be trusted and she shouldn’t give people second chances at a certain point. Who knows? Maybe she will encounter much better people in her future relationships! 😊

youtube

📖 Asif:

I picked this song because this is him inside his head when he misses his mother and wishes that his father could recover one day. He knows those happy days from his childhood won’t come back, but he still holds on to the hope and pray for the best.

youtube

🎙️ Miriam:

Miriam has had many friends until she revealed her merform to them. Later, one by one, they revealed that most of them were just being friendly with her for her status, which is her being a singer and an actress. They all left her until three of them left.

And I know the question you may possibly have in mind; why does Miriam hide her merform? The answer is because people have prejudice against some merfolk. Particularly, shark merfolks, which is what Miriam is. They all think they eat humans, are aggressive and violent and may possibly hurt others. However, it’s far from the truth, some sharkmers (like her) don’t do any of that. And despite her wanting to show the world that sharkmers aren’t as dangerous as they seem to be, her manager tells her not to show anything that can potentially let her fans figure out that she’s a shark.

Now with this context given, let me tell you why exactly this song fits Miriam.

In the past, one of those ‘friends’ that left her became popular as of late. Using this newfound popularity, she started to spread nasty rumors about Miriam and caused her to face a massive backlash on social media and real life because of that. She played the victim and made it seem like Miriam was the one who hurted her. However, she started to gather evidence that she wasn’t guilty and one by one, she showed the world that everything that girl said were all lies. That girl’s popularity started to drop as fast as it rose in the past, and she started to blame Miriam for her own misdeed. Fortunately, that girl is currently in jail for spreading misinformation along with other things. But the damage was already done, and this taught Miriam to not let anyone see her merform.

youtube

🏷️ @thehollowwriter @fumikomiyasaki

#twisted wonderland oc #twst oc #twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #renée rose menken #fawn mortimer #asif kadr alnazar #miriam vandenberg

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oceangirl24 · 5 months ago

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Find the Word... Nature Edition

Many thanks to my talented bestie @axolotlsupremacyowo for this one!

Tagging: @stealing-your-kittens @the-orion-scribe @amberlide @winterlovesong1 @violetrose-art @kayedium-writes and anyone else who liked to join in the fun. (Sorry if I missed anyone who wanted to be tagged. My memory is bad! 😭)

Words for me to find

Ivy, Palm, Moss, Blossom, Pebble,

Words for you to find

Rose, dirt, vines, oak, lily

Ivy- The Return: Countdown

The only true discrepancy he could find between Jon and Jay was an article about donors to Collegiate School and one about academic honors:

Blake and Jacklyn Turner of Westport, CT, parents of sophomore hockey all-state defenseman, Jonathan Turner, donated $500,000 to the school for the building of the Ivy Preparatory Hall upon which the cornerstone for the building will bear their name….

…Jay Andrews, son of Richard and Elizabeth Andrews, was awarded the President's Award for Educational Achievement. This is awarded to students who have shown remarkable growth and improvement in their studies…

Shawn leaned back from the table and put his knee up against its edge, musing over all the information he had. Jon and Jay were the same person, of that he was convinced but he still had unanswered questions and he wanted confirmation of what he thought he knew.

Palm (not the tree, just the hand lol)- Saudade: Didn't We Almost Have It All

"I said the same thing, but I couldn't just walk away," Jon told him emphatically. "I tried and got my butt in so much trouble Audrey's dad had to bail me out. I know what it's like to have your parents in and out of your life."

Shawn sat back from him just a little and gave him a curious look. This was not something he'd ever heard before.

"I know what it's like to be kept close when it suits them," he went on. Shawn saw a familiar look in Jon's eyes; one he often had in his own when Chet disappointed him yet again. "I know what it's like to have the people who are supposed to love you and protect you turn their backs on you at fifteen."

Shawn was fighting hard to keep the tears back. So much so that the full meaning of what Jon was saying wasn't sinking in: how similar they were.

"I know the anger, Shawn."

He shook his head unable to see anything anymore. He pressed the palm of his free hand to his eyes to stop the flow.

Without thinking, Jon pulled him closer and tightened his grip on him. "My problem was I ran from my feelin's about my parents. I never dealt with it. Or them."

He paused a moment to collect himself. The kid sitting next to him could easily have been himself at fifteen.

Moss- none

Blossom- Saudade: The Ties that Bind

"Yeah," his teacher shot back. He put a hand against the door of the truck and wagged a finger at him, "but now you're gonna be out on the road with Audrey, too. This is serious, Shawn."

"I know it is!" he insisted. "But we've literally sat in a parkin' lot just goin' over the lights, the seatbelt, how to start the engine."

"You forgot about the adjustin' the rearview mirror and the seat."

Shawn let his head tip back until it made contact with the door's window. "I won't when I get in the truck."

"You just did!"

"I'm standin' outside of the truck," he pointed out, slapping a hand to his face. "Once I'm in the seat I'm sure muscle memory will kick in. Hours of doin' that very thing, Jon. Hours!"

Jon crossed his arms over his chest ready to pull the plug on the driving plans when Audrey walked out of the cabin with a plumeria blossom tucked behind her left ear. Seeing the location of the flower made Jon forget about his misgivings about Shawn's driving.

Shawn barely noticed the flower much less its significance as he rushed to grab the passenger door for her.

Pebble- Saudade: Preparations

But life wasn't so beautiful.

She nearly lost her grandfather before she had the chance to get to know him. If that had happened, Shawn would disappear; there was no way her life could turn out right if his fell apart.

Maya's thoughts drifted to Riley's family. Uncle Jon wasn't the only one not doing well. Mr. Matthews was on a crash course to the same place if something didn't change for him. She couldn't understand why Riley didn't see what was happening to her father. Farkle did. Zay did. Lucas, who could be as naïve as Riley, saw it. Even Smackle, who attended a different school, saw it.

Riley truly believed nothing bad could happen to her father. Unlike Maya, Riley liked to believe beautiful lies. One day, Maya knew, something was going to happen and shatter Riley's world.

She sighed heavily as she scrolled through the files on her phone, determined to be there for her best friend when the pebble cracked the glass around her world. She wouldn't let Riley fall alone.

Tears blurred her sight as she scrolled, irritating her immensely. She didn't want Julia to see and worry. As she reached to wipe the tears away, her thumb hit a file on her phone and a video popped up.

#boy meets world #shawn hunter #jonathan turner #boy meets world fanfiction #bmw #boy meets world fic #audrey andrews #jon turner #autumn in philadelphia #writing tag game #tag game #fanfiction tag game

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lovesosweeet · 1 year ago

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better left unsaid // cth

chapter twenty eight

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

october 1, 2018 san diego, california orion

I should’ve seen it coming. I should’ve seen Calum’s reaction coming. I know him so well that I should have been able to predict how he would react to my confession, but, I guess it was a situation that nobody really knows how they’ll react to until they’re in the moment. The look on his face when I told him… I never want to see that level of anger and disappointment and heartbreak on anyone’s face, ever again.

It felt like a punch to my gut, over and over. It felt like my heart was ripped from my chest when Calum stormed off.

Afterwards, I spend a few minutes sobbing, hyperventilating, and freaking out in my car when he leaves me alone. I know he wants to spend some time on his own, but I feel like I have to at least try to run after him, after I gave him some space to process what I’ve just told him. I collect myself a tiny bit before I run into the venue, finding everyone, except for Calum, in the green room.

They all notice me immediately, and I’m sure the tears running down my face, red cheeks, and ragged breathing made it clear that I’m upset. Luke starts to step toward me, his face full of concern, but Ashton beats him to it, stepping directly in front of Luke to block him.

“O, are you alright?”

I grab his arm and pull him into the corner, away from everyone else as much as possible without going to a different room.

When I try to say something, all that comes out is more crying. I can’t say it. I can’t say that Calum is absolutely livid that I hadn’t told him until now. I can’t say that it felt like he handed me his barely beating heart before he ran away.

Despite the many awful conversations with Ashton telling me I shouldn’t keep my diagnosis a secret, he’s nothing but sympathetic in the wake of my relationship getting absolutely fucked. He wraps his arms around me tightly and rests his head on top of mine, my body shaking as I cry even harder into his shirt.

“You told him, I take it?” He asks.

I sniffle, trying again to be able to say something, but the words get caught in my throat.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything. It’s all gonna be okay, alright? You guys will be fine. Just give him a chance to come to terms with everything. It’s a lot to take in, and you know he’s avoidant.” He rubs his hands up and down my back, trying to calm me down, but it just makes it all worse. “He loves you. Nobody can deny it. Love is the most powerful thing in the universe. You guys will be fine.”

I ruined everything. Ashton’s positivity feels toxic rather than comforting.

It takes a few minutes, but I manage to stop sobbing enough to speak.

“I’m gonna go. Give him space. Take care of him, please? And tell everyone I love them and I’m sorry.”

“Wait, Orion, you shouldn’t—”

I don’t bother listening to everything else he has to say. I just run back out to the car. I can hear everyone calling after me, so I act quickly, turning the key in the ignition and reversing, then driving back out of the parking lot the way I came.

While I drive, I blast sad music that I can cry to. I’m probably not supposed to drive while crying as hard as I am, but I don’t really have a choice, already on an interstate. I don’t know what I’m thinking, but I stop at a convenience store after I drive for about 15 minutes. I turn off sharing my location with everyone and turn on Do Not Disturb. If Cal needs to be alone, I need to be alone too.

I need to grapple with the immense pain I’ve caused.

Just so people can know I’m alive after leaving the venue, I text Emelia.

To: emi✨ today is… the worst day ever.

As soon as it says it’s delivered, I put my phone in my pocket.

At 7-Eleven, I grab a jumbo bottle of Barefoot Cabernet Sauvignon and a bag of Voodoo potato chips, then get back in the car to head to the beach. The access I go to is in a touristy part of San Diego, but it’s nostalgic for me and reminds me of all the times I came here as a kid with friends. An ounce of comfort in this shitty fucking day.

After parking, I grab my 7-Eleven purchases and the blanket my moms make me keep in my trunk for ‘emergencies’ — I’ve never known what kind of emergency would call for a blanket in Southern California, but I guess, if today counts as one, I’ve determined the kind of emergency. I kick off my socks and shoes, carrying them in the plastic bag they gave me when I bought my wine and chips. Somehow, even in my emotional distress, I made sure the wine was a screw top, so I open it up while I walk down the beach, taking a long glug from the big bottle.

At my happy place on a not too busy day, I feel somewhat at peace with the world, even though I feel like my life is in shambles. I’ve spent so much time alone lately that it’s nice to be alone while surrounded by people. I don’t care if anyone is watching me while I just scarf down an entire bag of chips and nearly chug the entire bottle of wine.

I don’t want to feel anything right now, and being drunk is the best option I have on hand currently.

People watching and wave watching is a dizzying distraction while I sit on my sandy blanket. I don’t get in the water. Not even my feet. I just sit and drink, and, all things considered, it’s kind of nice, in a fucked up way.

I’m not sure how long I’ve been here when my head starts to feel heavy and my eyelids start to droop. Wine, especially combined with being sick with leukemia, has always made me sleepy. I check the time and find that it’s only 2:00, so there’s plenty of time for me to take a nap. I bury my keys in the sand under my blanket so nobody can steal them and shove my wallet into my pocket.

I pull the hood on my sweatshirt up and use the string to close it over my face, finding darkness in the middle of the day.

—

When I wake up, it’s not by choice. There’s someone shaking my shoulder and I can hear several voices close by, at least one of them speaking to me.

“Excuse me, you need to wake up, or we’re calling an ambulance for you,” a deep voice says.

I groan, swatting at my face to open the hood again. “No, I’m up.”

Blinking as I adjust to the sunlight, it can’t be too late, since the sun is still up. There’s a police officer leaning over me who looks slightly concerned, but mostly annoyed.

“Time to go home, kiddo, before we charge you with public intoxication. You can’t just get drunk and pass out on a beach on a Monday.”

Shit.

I sit up as quickly as I can, feeling dizzy from the wine that’s still running through me.

“Do you have someone you can call, or do we need to call you an Uber?”

“I’ll call someone,” I hear myself saying. I grab my phone from my pocket and hold it up closer to my face. “Hey Siri, call Irwie.”

“OK, calling Irwie now,” Siri says, and I press the phone to my ear.

It doesn’t even complete a full ring before Ashton answers. “Orion? Orion, are you okay? Everyone is—”

“If I drop you a pin, can you come get me?”

“What do—yeah, sure, yeah, I can come get you. Where are you?”

“I’m at the beach,” I slur sleepily, looking up at the police officer with one eye shut. The sun feels too bright.

“Are you drunk!?” He asks.

“Maybe…”

“Jesus Christ, Orion. Yeah, sure, drop a pin. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Wait! Ashton,” I nearly scream, trying to catch him before he hangs up.

“What?”

“Please… please don’t bring Cal.”

He sighs. “I’ll see you soon.” Then he hangs up.

“Is someone coming?” The police officer asks. I realize he’s one of two, the other standing a few feet behind him.

“Yeah, my friend said he’ll be here soon.”

The officers exchange glances. “We’ll be back in an hour. If you’re still here, you’ll be riding in the back of our car instead. Got it?”

My eyes widen. “Yes, sir. I’ll be gone, I promise.”

I gather my things up and put them into my 7-Eleven bag before standing up. While I walk toward my car, I drop a pin for Ashton. I have about a million notifications of phone calls and text messages. I don’t want to read anything from Calum or the band, or even my family. I just check the thread with Emelia.

From: emi✨ what happened ?????? you told him??? i assume? hello? pick up the phone orion bro literally everyone is freaking the fuck out your mom just called orion i get that you’re trying to be alone but we’re all so worried can you just tell someone if you’re alive and okay? orion, it’s been five hours i’m on my way down to SD right now. your moms are so scared and cal is a wreck

Her last text was just over an hour ago, so if she really is driving down, she’s still in the car. I call her instantly. Just like with Ashton, it doesn’t even finish a full ring before she answers.

“BITCH,” she starts, and I have to hold my phone away from my ear for a second because of how loud she is. “DON’T YOU EVER DO THIS SHIT AGAIN!”

I wince, unsure if she’s going to continue or if it’s safe to speak.

“Where the fuck are you!?” Yep, she continues.

I sigh, sitting down on the hood of my car. “I’m at the beach.”

“Why haven’t you been answering literally anyone!? Orion, do you understand how many people are upset right now? Because it’s literally so many people.”

I let the alcohol talk next, and I regret the words that come out of my mouth the moment I say them.

“Just a preview of what’s inevitable. I’m fucking dying, in case you forgot. Get used to me not answering my fucking phone.”

Emelia gasps, and the tears start forming in my eyes again. I shouldn’t have said it. I know I shouldn’t have. It’s a low blow, especially for someone who so clearly just cares about me and wants me to be okay. I feel worse than I already do.

“Em, I’m—I’m sorry,” I choke out, falling back into a state of sobbing. “I shouldn’t have said that. Fuck, I feel so bad. I’m sorry. I just—I’m at the beach. I’m drunk. I fell asleep. I just woke up. Ash is on his way to me. You can go home if you want.”

She takes a big breath before she speaks again. “I’m headed to your moms’ house. I’ll see you there. Everyone is there now.” Then she hangs up on me, and I can’t even pretend like I blame her for it.

“Fuck,” I say to no one but myself.

Roughly thirty minutes after my call with Emelia, a black van pulls up next to my car. Ashton is in the passenger seat, and Matt is in the driver’s. They say something to each other that I can’t hear before Ashton throws his door open and walks up to me.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He hugs me before I can even say anything.

I laugh. It’s a bitter, short laugh. “No.”

He hugs me tighter, and I break down again.

Ashton drives my car to my moms’ house while Matt drives the van back to the venue. The drive ends up taking over an hour because there’s an accident on the way, and I’m grateful that he just plays a podcast for the whole time so we don’t have to talk.

Calum always jokes that I can’t stand silence so I always make up dumb stories to tell people just to make sure that there isn’t any dead air. I never make them up, he just tends to find them so random. I do hate silence, and I’d rather talk to people than not, so making conversation has always been… I wouldn’t say a strong suit, because it’s not always worthwhile conversation, but I guess it’s just easy. It’s easy for me to find random stories to tell from the depths of my brain, especially if it’s someone I’m comfortable with.

Right now, I don’t want to talk, especially not knowing that the whole band and their partners and my family and Emelia will be at the house when we get there.

We pull in right as Emelia is getting out of her car.

“Hey guys,” she says without enthusiasm as Ashton and I get out of my Civic.

I start crying again, and it feels stupid, but thankfully, she doesn’t care. Emelia welcomes me with open arms and hugs me to her chest.

“I’m sorry and I love you,” I whisper to her.

“I love you, and it’s okay.”

I nod against her.

“C’mon, let’s go inside,” she says. She steps back from me, her hands sitting on my arms as she looks at me. “Everyone is waiting.”

I don’t want to, but I know I don’t have a choice. Em walks in front of me and Ash walks next to me, with his hand on my back between my shoulder blades. As we’re walking up to the door, Calum bursts through it and runs to us. Surely he was watching Ashton's location get closer and closer to the house.

Emelia steps out of the way and gives Cal a clear path to throw his arms around me and squeeze me against his chest. I cry into his shirt while he holds me, and I’m transported back in time to our goodbye at the airport two months ago. The deja vu makes me cry harder.

“I’m sorry I ran," he apologizes, although I feel like it's unwarranted. I did a fucked up thing. "I love you, and I trust you and your judgment and I know you did things in a way that made sense to you."

I shake my head as well as I can within his embrace which almost swallows me. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I fucked up. I know I did. I’m sorry. I feel like shit.”

“Let’s talk about it later.”

I nod. Dropping it for the moment feels best, considering practically everyone we know is here and neither one of us wants an audience for our conversation.

“I know things are shitty, but we’ve got a ton of pizza inside if you’re hungry? Everyone else is in the backyard.”

I peel back from his embrace enough to be able to look him in the eye. “I’m sorry I fucked everything up.”

Calum’s eyes are brimmed with tears and I feel awful for causing as much pain as I have. He doesn’t cry a lot, and when he does, it’s always something that makes my heart ache. I feel like the worst person alive to do this to him. He doesn’t deserve this.

“We can talk about it later, okay? Let’s just be together for a little bit. Everyone has been so worried.” He kisses my forehead and takes my hand, tugging me inside with him, Ashton and Emelia following behind.

Inside the house, there are pizza boxes scattered around the kitchen and a few cases of La Croix on the island. Eri is in the living room with Disney Channel playing and Duke is asleep on his lap. My moms walk inside from the backyard as we walk in and they both run up to us, looking an appropriate mix of angry and relieved.

“Never do that again!” Mama says, embracing me quickly. Mom hugs me, too, and then she grabs my other hand that Calum isn’t holding.

“Eat. We’re glad you’re safe. You have an army of concerned friends in the backyard. They will be relieved to see you.”

I just nod, unable to process the right words to say right now. I’ve sobered up over the past hour but the wine brain fog is still lingering, especially given my exhaustion. Emelia hands me a plate with a slice of cheese pizza on it, then she nods her head toward the backyard.

“Come on, let’s go see everyone. I don’t think Luke has stopped crying since you ran off,” Calum says, giving my hand a squeeze.

I don’t get a chance to argue before he leads me outside, everyone’s heads snapping up as the door creaks open. Calum was right. Luke is still crying. How could I do this to all of them? What’s wrong with me? These people don’t deserve this kind of pain. Nobody deserves this.

Luke barrels toward me first, nearly knocking me over with a hug. I feel his body quivering as he shakily breathes and cries into my hair. Calum lets go of my hand and takes my pizza from me so I can hug Luke back. It takes so much self control not to cry again. I just focus on trying to calm Luke down, rubbing small circles into his back.

“I’m so, so sorry, O,” Luke whispers through his quiet sobs.

He’s sorry? Why is he sorry? I’m the one who messed up. “It’s okay, Lu. You didn’t do anything.”

He cried and I feel him shake his head. “I should’ve been there for you.”

“Luke,” I breathe out. “I didn’t want anyone to be there for me. That’s not on you.”

“Luke, give her some space. You’re not the only one who wants to hug her, man!” I hear Michael’s voice. He’s trying to lighten the mood a bit and I appreciate it. He peels Luke away from me and then he embraces me himself. “Glad you’re safe, O.”

“Sorry to scare everyone.”

“We love you so much,” Crystal says, hugging me straight after Michael lets go.

Sierra is next, and then KayKay. After everyone else has had a turn, Luke resumes his hugging and clings to me for another few minutes while everyone else starts talking and eating again. He keeps apologizing to me and it hurts. He sounds so sad. When he finally pulls away, I look up at his red face that’s covered in tears.

I pull my sweatshirt sleeve over my hand and reach up to wipe them away. “Don’t cry. It’ll be okay.”

Luke nods, and then Sierra comes up to him and takes him off to calm him down, mouthing a ‘sorry’ to me.

Finally in a place where I can breathe again, I look up and catch Calum staring at me. His eyes have welled up tears and are a muted version of their normal rich brown. I try to smile at him, but I end up having tears start to form in my own eyes for the millionth time today. When one falls from my eyes, he’s quick to reach over and wipe it away.

“I love you,” he says, his voice almost too quiet to hear, full of love and pain and sadness and, possibly most difficult to admit, fear.

“I love you.”

I look down at the pizza he’s holding for me, my stomach starting to make noises, and then I notice the tape wrapped around his knuckles. Ashton is somewhat known for always having his hands taped up with blisters from playing the drums, but not Calum, and the location of the tape wouldn’t be from playing any instrument. It also wasn’t there this morning.

“What happened to your hand?” I ask, taking the pizza from his grasp with one hand and using the other to reach for his bandaged one, pulling it closer to try to inspect.

He chuckles, and I'm grateful to hear a sound close to laughter come from him. “I got in a fight with a wall.”

I look up at him, eyebrows raised, trying to fight a smile. Calum is practically magic. Not even seconds ago I was about to cry, and here he is, flipping my mood like it’s as simple as turning on a light switch. “Elaborate?”

Cal sighs, breaking our eye contact. “I wanted to punch somebody, but I know how you feel about violence, so I punched a wall. Three times.”

My raised eyebrows move to being knit together. Cal isn’t known for being an angry person, much less a violent one. Gentle is the first word I'd use to describe his soul, and kind is the second. Angry isn't even on my list. “Who did you want to punch?”

“Ashton.” He doesn’t even hesitate before he says it. I watch his jaw clench as he looks behind me, presumably to wherever Ashton is standing. He’s angry. He’s furious.

I don’t understand why he would be mad at Ashton but able to look past what I’ve done enough to be consoling me right now. Ashton didn’t do anything wrong. I’m the one who messed everything up and Ashton got stuck in the crosshairs. He was just trying to be a good friend to me and he made his opinions very known—he didn’t agree with what I was doing but respected that it was my choice to make, not his. Does Calum not see that?

“Cal, don’t be upset with—“

His eyes snap back down to me, anger still firing in his irises. “Not now. I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

His fury silences me and I decide it’s probably best to listen to him. I don’t want to fight with him in front of all these people, but I know I need to talk to him about this soon. Ashton and Calum call each other soulmates. I don’t want to be the reason there’s a rift between them. I want to talk about it now and clear the air, but if Calum says he doesn’t want to talk about something, it’s by far the better choice to leave it alone.

“Okay,” I say, my voice small.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Calum promises. “Right now I just want to be with you, okay?”

I nod, even though everything I have wanted to say all day is gnawing at my stomach, clawing at my throat, and filling the entirety of my mouth. I need to talk about all of this; after sitting on it for over two months, I need to get everything off my chest. But, knowing Calum, I know that if he doesn’t want to talk about something, it’s useless to try to talk about it, so even though I’m dying to talk about the issue at hand, I have to swallow the words and try not to choke on them.

“Can we go sit down? I’m so tired.”

Calum nods, wrapping an arm around me and guiding me over to the outdoor living room situation my moms have set up, sitting down on the couch that’s covered in Duke’s hair from him being out here all day. KayKay and Emelia are sitting on chairs across from us, deep in their own conversation. I think Em is telling her about a project she did in her photography class and KayKay is looking through the final images on her phone. I'm glad they can talk about something normal in the midst of all this.

I slowly take bites of my cheese pizza, but each mouthful sticks on its way down my throat and make it far less appetizing.

“Need anything?” Calum asks, taking note of my silence and slow eating.

“No, just don’t have much of an appetite these days.”

It’s nice to be back with everyone, and I don’t want to act like it isn’t, but this all feels wrong. Ashton and Calum aren’t speaking. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells in my own head, trying not to trigger any conversations that I can’t have yet and narrowly avoiding crying yet again. Calum is being attentive, smoothing my hair for me while I talk and always having his hand on me somewhere, whether resting on my knee, wrapped around my waist, or intertwined with mine. All I can picture is the look on his face when I told him I have leukemia and the way it felt to practically watch his heart stop beating.

One day, he’s actually going to have to watch as my heart stops beating, and the thought alone makes me hate myself even more than I already do.