#also i have had your comm in mind fear not

[k9effect]

I made my sibling watch top gun this weekend and the moment we finished I just sent them a bunch of your art and your blog!. You’re so talented and I love seeing all your work

Awh dudeeee!!!! This is so sweet this makes me so happy heheh I hope your sibling enjoyed top gun!!! And I hope they liked my art :)))) you have a WONDERFUL day <333

[cherie-doll]

Okay great! Glad I cleared it w/ you first ^^

Could you please write the COD guys reacting to seeing his military crush bite an enemy in the throat, because somehow said enemy snuck up on them and, well, there wasn't much else they could do besides that, except like, die

So of course they chose to bite a guy to death, and he saw all of that

Is it #truelove or #ohmygodwhatwasthatgrossss 😭 /j

yk what's funny, i wrote a draft for this and turns out i never saved it... so here we go again

𖧧 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ᵎ Price had always thought of you as an admirable and exemplary soldier who always completed missions with efficiency. He never questioned how your methos for completing those missions... until now. A cry was about to leave his lips when he saw the enemy sneaking up behind you, until he stood watching in shock as you responded quickly by biting into their neck.

ᵎ Simon could have thought of other... methods that you could have used when taken by surprise. Sure, he's seen unspeakable war crimes but this has got to be one of those top ten moments on his list of things he wishes to NEVER witness ever again. Let's just say the ride back was dead silent.

ᵎ Soap would have such a big, fat crush on you there isn't anything you do that wouldn't look attractive to him. You've done a number of things and he would just kick his feet and giggle to himself. Seeing you sink your teeth into the enemy's throat with agility only made him experience an initial shock before thinking, "wow, they're so resourceful".

ᵎ Kyle could see why you would do something like that but... why? Just why? You have a weapon, he was covering for you and was it really easier to go rabid on someone rather than pull your knife out? He didn't know you had that side to you.

ᵎ Roach is scared. He's running; he fears he might be next if you confuse him for the enemy. He stood aghast for a moment before booking it out of there.

ᵎ Alejandro is lowkey into that. He had been observing you, watching your moves to see how you would perform out in the field. He's heard so much about how quick your reflexes are when it comes to combat but he surely didn't expect this. He likes 'em a little crazy anyways.

ᵎ Rudy made the mistake of assuming you wouldn't react in time. He had pulled out his weapon and aimed at the enemy who was attacking you now, he heard the shot on his end and then paused for a moment. He saw two figures still on the ground, until you got up, blood dripping down your chin and for a moment he assumed the worst; that he had aimed incorrectly and hit you instead. Until he saw the bitemarks on the enemy's neck.

ᵎ Phillip is usually proud of whatever his Shadows do to eliminate the enemy. He doesn't care how they do it so long as the job is done. He's yelling over the comm what a great job you did until he hears... questionable sounds? The sound of choking, ok so he thinks you choked the enemy out until another shadow responds saying you just bit someone and the gurgling sounds was the enemy choking on their own blood. Well...

ᵎ Makarov would sort of just laugh. He's never seen you panic so much in a moment where you don't even know what to do and act on whatever idea comes into your mind first.

ᵎ Keegan was beyond weirded out. When he had told you to learn from Riley he didn't mean for you to also take out the enemy soldiers by ripping their vocal chords out, he had meant it mostly as a joke that even the dog had better skills than you.

ᵎ König does not know how to react, how he should react. He is mainly concerned and hopes this doesn't become a habit. Perhaps he should suggest you visit a doctor? Ah, for your... teeth. Yep, that's exactly why. Not to get a mental checkup too while you're at it.

ᵎ Horangi is off the rails himself, he is no stable man to judge how you take someone out. He did give you the advice to fight with everything and anything. He was only trying to teach the new rookie he had a little crush on how to survive out there. And boy was he amused to see you take that advice.

ᵎ Nikto has killed a man in more ways than he can count. Some too brutal to mention. So, seeing you using your teeth as last resort to nearly bite the enemy's head off was like really falling in love with you. He did absolutely did not care that there was blood on your teeth, spilling down your lips as you tried your best to spit it out.

[blackbirdsblackberries]

If Reader is a spider hero like Spiderman, were we bitten by a genetically altered radioactive spider? How did we get in that situation?

Did our dad take us with him on a job, before he had his voice cut out, and we got bitten by a project the villain was making? Did our dad sell us to get cash and we were a human experiment that escaped or was thought to have failed? Did we stumble into a situation where this happened? I'm so curious! (And the flash backs could be great filler.)

On another note, our Spidey Sense only works when we're in danger, right? But it didn't detect Dick and the bucket. Does that mean he had no real intention to hurt us? Only wanted us to go off the wall and hurt him? It'd be interesting if our unease with the Bat Fam is just our Spidey Sense going off. Which would mean we'd feel a spike in our sense when they try to capture us. Probably immediately after telling them we're leaving/quitting, if we do.

On another note, I'm just thinking about what would happen if we got exposed to spider pheromones and turned into a giant arachnid? We aren't destroying buildings or anything. Just trying to hide. I'm just imagining the Bat Fam and the reactions. Maybe it was a new ingredient of Fear Gas? Maybe a new big bad that was trying to mind control spiders?

Either way, it follows canon Spiderman comics. Where he was turned into a spider, the villain found out he was 'pregnant', his spider form dies, and his human body rips out of the corpse. Poor Bat Fam questioning how to turn Aranea back into a human while trying to catch her and calm her down. Finding out she's 'pregnant' and questioning if she even knew by that point. The devastation of her dying, curling in on herself and not moving. Then, hours later, the body ripping apart from the inside out to reveal a human body, face obscured from the cameras by hair and mucus, who escapes before the family come back.

Hi! Oh my god it's been a while!!

The backstory will definitely be a filler/separate chapter from the main story, but until that comes out I will say that Reader has had these powers for years now and had been quite young when the incident happened. This also ties in with the whole Spidey Senses situation, I like to think the Reader is so used to the senses warning of danger that it's just like a gut feeling people get normally (obviously intensified). Dick definitely didn't mean to harm Reader and wasn't trying to be a threat so even though there was some unease it wasn't enough to enact fight or flight.

~

As for the second part of the ask. I might make a separate mini story for it!! That definitely seems fun to write but the main things I think would happen would be:

- Batfam freaking out and trying to look for Aranea

- one of the members finding your new form

- a whole freakout ensues

- Damian believes you are now the new Man-Bat

- You, obviously, runs off and is quickly chased down by Batman and Red Hood (the others are either frozen from shock, in the cave or trying to convince Damian that just because Aranea is a proper spider doesn't mean they're now against them)

- they capture you and take you to the batcave, most would be pretty happy to finally have a reason for you to be here.

- They run tests on you before finding out you're pregnant

- Immediately they freak out once more and you take the moment to run and escape the cave.

- You run into Crime Alley and hide out there for a bit before "dying"

- the family finds you, mourns you, and is about to take you and bury you when Jason snaps and runs off with Damian to kill the villain. The rest of the family follows to try and stop them (Steph actually doesn't care whether the villain dies or not, she just wants to watch it go down)

- When they return you've already gotten out and run off. They don't realize this - thinking it was just an animal or something that caused the hole and such.

- Barbara, Batman and Tim proceed to have a heart attack when they see your comm online and see you in person a couple nights later.

~

I hope that makes a bit of sense!! I love long asks so so much and I'm sorry I've been gone for so long 😔

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Having To Patch Soshiro Up After A Kaiju Attack

Soshiro Hoshina X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Blood, injuries, mentions of death, teasing, and kaiju remains

Word Count: 1k

(A/N:) I am enjoying the Kaiju No. 8 anime immensely and it's giving me all sorts of ideas to write! I have several more Kafka ones in my drafts and I want to write more for several other of the male characters. So keep an eye out I may write your favorite dude! I'm also thinking about opening my requests back up in case anyone has any Kaiju No. 8 requests, even though my drafts are insanely full. We'll just see but until next time happy reading! ~Countess

The suits made by Izumo Tech were a marvel of innovation and technology. Designed to give the members of Japan's fiercest warriors; The Defense Force, a fighting chance against the Kaiju that plagued their country. But still the warriors were only human no matter how amazing the suit.

Your booted feet thundered against the broken asphalt, breath heaving in pants as you raced across the now quiet battlefield. Just seconds ago it was Hell on Earth as you and your fellow soldiers fought for your very lives. But now Kaiju matter was splattered against everything. It was going to be quite the mess for whatever cleaning crew was open to do the dirty job. The attacks had become more frequent here lately, that the few companies that specialized in Kaiju clean up were becoming overwhelmed to get the different attack sights back to some semblance of normalcy for the citizens. But even that problem was far back from your mind. Only one person had you running so hard after fighting so intensely. Soshiro had gone silent after dispatching some of the smaller ones with his blades. You knew he had sustained injuries, but for him to go quiet, it wasn't a good sign. There was closer Third Division officers nearby but you knew with whatever stamina you had left you could make it. Your worries taking over any rational thought in your mind.

Konomi echoed in your ear, leading you straight towards Soshiro's location. Her frantic directions wasn't doing much to calm your nerves, but as an officer you couldn't let your anxiety show.

"Just around this corner," Konomi said. You thanked her turning down your communication device as you skidded around a pile of rubble. There leaned up against what remained of a wall was Soshiro. He held his side, eyes closed, and protective mask discarded at his side. Though winded and exhausted from the long race here, you gripped your rifle tighter the sling hitting your neck and tangling in the wild strands of hair that had broken free. Blood coated Soshiro's face and the fact that he wasn't responding to footsteps coming closer was more than concerning. Fear was beginning to grip your heart, when you finally got at his side.

"Two cracked ribs and significant blood loss," Konomi's sudden voice through the comm caused you to jump. "He's not critical just yet but I do have the medics on route to your location."

"I can staunch the blood flow," you replied. "I'll try to get him conscious again too."

"Good idea. I'll keep monitoring his vitals and let you know if anything changes."

"Copy."

Unslinging the rifle from your neck, you set it close by in case any threats remained. You removed the small med pack from your belt and got to work. Tapping at his cheek, you started working on getting Soshiro awake. Several moments went by and it wasn't until you put pressure on one of his worse wounds did he finally groan.

"Vice Captain," you continued to pat his cheek. "Vice Captain Hoshina! Soshiro wake up!"

He stirred, bleary eyes blinking against the bright sunlight before his gaze finally found you.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sir," you sighed in relief.

"So I died," he groaned. "And here I thought I was immortal."

"Well you didn't die but you do have a long road to recovery. You're pretty banged up and look terrible. The Kaiju Captain blew to smithereens looks better than you."

"Officer (L/N)," Soshiro groaned more as you wrapped several wounds tightly in gauze, "did anyone ever tell you that your bedside manner is garbage?"

"We're out on the battlefield and you're not laying on a bed sir," you grinned before going back to placing pressure on a wound that was too large for bandages. "Beside manners don't exist out here."

"Fieldside manner then," he glared. "And if you press any tighter to my side you're going to stab my lungs with my ribs."

"That's not me. That would be your suit keeping you from jostling your cracked ribs."

"(Y/N)! Vice-Captain Hoshina's vitals seem to be stabilizing more. Medics are inbound and will be there shortly," Konomi updated you and you acknowledged her.

"You had me worried Soshiro," you sniffed, hands stained with his blood. You had turned your comm off so you could talk with him in private for just a moment. You both didn't have long anyway with the evac team so close by.

"Sorry," he grimaced. Righting himself up more he wrapped one arm around your neck and pulled you in tight. "I'm sorry I worried you so much. I take risks but this time my decision wasn't the right one."

You held him as best as you could without hurting him further, "I'm just so glad you're okay!"

You hated crying but the relief you felt, had you breaking down in seconds. Soshiro wasn't used to seeing you cry and it broke his heart. Always the strong soldier, you couldn't help yourself around him as you wanted him by your side forever.

"You're not hurt are you," Soshiro asked as he stroked the back of your hair.

"No." You breathed deep, calming yourself and wiped your eyes. "Does that mean that I have surpassed the great Soshiro Hoshina in skills?"

"Absolutely not. We both know that my blade skills leave everyone else in the dust," he scoffed.

"Yeah but I didn't decide to use my ribs to stop a kaiju punch."

"Shut up."

You laughed kissing his forehead quickly, as it was the only place not covered in blood, as the boots of the medics came closer.

"I'm glad you're okay," you whispered. Soshiro couldn't answer as he was suddenly surrounded by several medical officers. He nodded towards you as you picked your rifle back up and started to go join the other members of the Third Division. The battle wasn't over just yet as you needed to look for more survivors. But you felt the burden lift from your shoulders knowing that the man you loved was going to be okay and was in capable hands. The fight with the kaiju continued on but if you stayed by Hoshiro's side you felt like you both could make the world a better place together.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

You're Only Sixteen

wc: 4.7 K

summary: child soldier joins taskforce 141, part SIX; one, two, three, four, five; seven

warnings: violence, description of a panic attack, description of an injury, death, nightmares

a/n: this part is probably a little more chaotic, but I tried to make it make sense. next part is going to be the final one! Hope you enjoy it!

Once all geared up, it‘s time to jump into the vehicle and drive to your old camp. From time to time, you feel a burst of slight anxiousness and anticipation, recognising some specific places as you sit in the back of the truck beside Farah. You still have doubts in the back of your mind, quietly contemplating while taking in the surroundings.

Riley sits by Ghost in between his legs, tongue sticking out while getting small back rubs from his owner. She was imported later on as you got your equipments, now being on the mission with the rest. Farah‘s team is with another vehicle, creating a line of a total of four trucks.

»Building‘s in sight. Three armed guards at the entrance, two on the roof.«

Price informs as he looks through a pair of binoculares.

»They usually have more guards inside, also taking guard. Probably about four.«

You add, getting a brief nod back from Price as the rest takes the information in. He sits back on the passanger seat as one of Farah‘s men drive, stopping by an edge of a small cliff. The camp is about 1.5 miles away from your current position, taking a deep breath, you look at it from this perspective. It feels wrong to stand here, getting a brief feeling of getting into trouble before Ghost speaks up. He commands Riley to stick close to him, the dog staying by his left foot as he checks his rifle again.

You all pair up, being together with Farah and are now getting to a high and well hidden spot to set up your sniper rifles quickly. Ghost and Soap also make their way silently, making sure they don‘t get spotted by any of the guards as they approach the building. Gaz and Price are a few feet behind them, about to keep watch for them and the guards.

It seems to go as planned for now, being as calm as possible beside Farah. Rifles are set up and you lay flat on your stomach, looking through the lense of the gun to mark the positions of the guards, and informing the rest over the comms of the progress.

There are indeed more guards than what it looked like at first, actually being a little surprised about it. Usually, they had about four guards looking for any unwanted guests around the small base, trying to figure out why they have more today. Did the know about this? A secret tracker?

You check your clothes for any potential trackersor mics, but it‘s imppossible since you changed your clothes regurarly and would‘ve noticed it way earlier. Sighing out, you get back to watching the guards stands or walk around the ground.

»Getting paranoid?« You don‘t bother looking beside you to Farah as she is busy with some equipment, probably measuring some more stuff.

»Never.« There‘s no need for an honest response, being sarcastic about it even, which earns a small huff from your right. She glances towards you while you focus on watching the guards.

»Something that‘s got your attention, then?«

You answer with a small grunt, not seeing much but the guards being seemingly oblivious to your presence.

»Why don‘t they have comms? Do they all go around without even a walkie talkie?«

You ask yourself as you keep your eyes on one of the guards, him just standing stoicely as he stares at nothing in particular. Farah looks through her own pair of binoculares, also noticing it.

»This is even better. How did they manage to train children when they‘re so uncareful?«

She mumbles back rather thoughtfully, making you shift in your position a little.

»Fear. And I don‘t think they are this unorganised.«

You answer back, really just assuming, but having been there for almost ten years made you overhear and see things you probably shouldn‘t have. Gaz speaks through the comms, making you concentrate on the actual mission again.

»Bravo-6, at your sign.«

You and Farah settle on the guards at the roof top, taking the one on the left while Farah aims for the second one.

A sharp shot goes through the air and you follow, taking out the two guards on the top with your teammate with a scary accuracy. The remaining guard is alerted immediatly and go inside, probably about to inform the ones inside about the shooting.

Now it needs to be quick and even more efficient. You both make your way down to the building and take your hand gun out, on high alert now. Farah gets in front of you and you follow her, seeing Ghost and Soap already being inside the entry as they fight the last four gaurds to ground, being stealthy as they do so. Riley takes out the last guard on her own, biting at his neck until he becomes limp.

It‘s the first time you actually feel thankful for the camp. Thank any God up or down that they are stupid enough to not have any communications on them. Hopefully they don‘t have any alarms around as well. Not that you ever experienced one in your time of being there.

You two change positions with Price and Gaz, them going forward to join the other pair instead. It‘s getting closer and more real, you know it‘s about a few minutes before you join them and lead the way to the directors room. Sighing out softly, you take a hiding spot behind one of vehicles and watch, waiting for a sign to join them inside.

Ghost and Soap currently make their way fully inside, checking for anyone before they enter the security room to cut off the cameras. Soap makes some pictures for evidence, taking some photos of the entrance, making sure the small camera stays secured in one of his pant pockets.

They exchange a few words over the comms, listening intently while keeping a close eye on your surroundings. It seems like most of them seem to be training right now, and by the current time, it‘s very likely. It is convinient, being able to get in as the soldiers are distracted and the superiors train them or have some meaningless meetings.

After what felt like too intense moments of silence, Ghost speaks up, telling it‘s clear now that the cameras are cut off. Just in case, they import all the camera footage into an extra USB-stick before continuing. Riley stays by their side, sniffing at the air a bit.

Finally, the other pair and you can go in, forming your team whole again to get to the directors room. You have an uneasy feeling but ignore it, rolling your shoulders to release some tension. Once you got inside, the taskforce is already there just by the entrance, Price nodding to you. Without wasting any more time, you lead the way up the stairs, the rest following behind. You all sweep each floor, reaching the third and last one.

»Down the hallway, on the right. I think they‘re having a meeting since we didn‘t see any of them around.«

You briefly state before Price gets to the front again, making you stand behind one of the others. For some reason, you feel the need to be at Price‘s place, as if you should be the one to storm in. This is all too familiar. As if it happened before already. The room you‘re about to enter is full with your superiors and commanders, being still slightly intimidated by them.

But before you could say something, Price kicks the door down and storms down, pulling as soon as one of them draw their gun at him. Fortunately no one dares to draw their gun again as the rest of you storms in quickly, pointing your barrels at them.

The room is tense while Price shouts orders at them, the few old men in the room slowly moving as the follow his commands and get to the floor with their hands raised. You watch carefully, eyes flicking to each of them at the same time to make sure none of them try funny tricks.

It seems to be without any success as one of them – one of the younger ones – draws his gun at you, being frozen in place. The rest of the commanders seem even more surprised as they recognise you, Ghost covering you quicker than you could comprehend what‘s happening, and takes the threat down. He falls limp to the ground, the room filling with Riley‘s barking and growls at the men.

Before it gets too much, Price sends and Soap quickly put handcuffs on the remaining few men, taking them by their arms harshly to get them outside. You get informations from Farah and Alex that they are currently rescuing the rest of the children, getting more vehicles for them. You get orders to sweep the remaining hallways and rooms with Gaz for any children that were left out, leading the way again.

You sweep the third floor as the others go out of the building to get the enemies out and safely into a vehicle. The third floor seems to be clean, going down stairs to check for the other rooms in the second. Time moves fast and before you know it, you are both back in the first floor and continue the search. It seemed clean of children for now, being done with all the rooms and getting to where the K9‘s should be. An uncomfortable shiver runs down your spine and Gaz seems to sense it, glancing to you.

»You alrigh‘, Bane?« You exhale shakily and steady your rifle in your arms, hoping the dogs are caged in. With a small nod, you both move forward and Gaz follows you, being more alert.

You get the door open, trying to be as silent and careful as possible, but the dogs had sensed your scent already. They start to bark and you try to stay composed and calm, it not working as one of them charges at the barely open door. You flinch and try to move away as fast as possible, but the aggressive Rottweiler is faster and has way more anger. The dog catches your ankle in its teeth and roughly shakes his head, growling dangerously at you. Drool drips from its mouth, making the scene even more revolting.

Gaz acts quickly and shoots it down, taking you away from the door to close it before another one comes at your way. It all happened so fast, you couldn‘t even scream or fullly process what happens before it happened.

You take a step to lean against the wall, your mind reeling. It‘s difficult to from a straight thought, vision getting blurry while you attempt to examine your ankle. Your teammate is quick to be by your side, helping you stand upright with his arm under your shoulders. He says or asks something, but you can‘t hear him. You want to cry, but you don‘t want to show him that you‘re in pain.

He senses in how much fear and panic you are, cursing under his breath as he tries again.

»Bane! Can you hear me? You need to focus, can you look at me?«

You don‘t respond once again but you do look at him briefly. You look as pale as the wall behind you, breathing shallowy. There is a tightness in your throat and chest, and you are unsure of what to do. Gaz has never seen you this panicked before. Kyle is helpless for a moment too, before he tags you along the hallway, relieved you are both on the first floor right now and don‘t need to walk a lot.

He supports your weight and makes sure you don‘t put pressure on your injured ankle, blood trailing on the floor from your wound as you limp to the exit.

It feels surreal and you finally get why you‘ve been feeling so strange. All the time, you‘d been having some kind of déjà vu.

You don‘t know how or when you got to one of the vehicles, Soap quickly coming to you free side to support you. There are no medics in sight, but Farah quickly gets her med kit out. She hasn‘t seen your injury yet, but seeing you limping like that is enough to set her instincts flying. Alex tries to calm her down in some way, seeing how frantic her movements are.

They set you down to sit on the ground, Farah being by your side in no time and examines the bite wound briefly. She rolls your pants up just enough to take a better look at the bite, having no time to clean the blood as it‘s gushing from it. The procedure feels even more painful than the actual bite, but you sit through, a few grunts and winces escaping from you. The team gave you some space as she treats your, doing it as efficient and fast as possible.

The wound is finally wrapped up, but the pain seems to get worse by the second. It burns and stings, also feeling as if your ankle is getting squeezed by something really strong. You notice just then that your cheeks are wet, wiping at them to realise you cried either during the treatment or while Gaz carried you out. Either way, you still need a few moments to calm down.

Farah exhales and pulls you into a hug, your resolve finally breaking. All it took was a stupid dog biting your ankle and a strong embrace after stopping the bleeding.

You don‘t want to cry or show any signs of vulnerableness, but it‘s too late. Right now, you don‘t care if someone is laughing at you for crying or hugging Farah back, her words finally coming through.

»I‘ve got you, okay? It‘s done. I‘m here.«

She whispers while rubbing your back, feeling her heart clench at your sobs. Seeing those poor soldiers that she just escorted from their ‚training‘ and seeing you injured made herself crumble and wish she could undo any pain you‘re feeling right now.

Finally, the air seems to et easier through your nose and lungs, your grip on her loosening as your face is still burried in her shoulder. She doesn‘t let go though and waits until you‘ve calmed down completely. It takes a few deeper breaths for you to calm down, letting go of her eventually which makes her let go as well.

It‘s embarrassing now, wiping at your eyes and cheeks with trembling hands. Your ankle has now a dull ache, feeling a faint heartbeat that makes you uncomfortable once more.

Ghost tries to hold Riley back, not wanting for you to feel scared again or have another possible panic attack.

You hear a dog bark from a short distance, turning your head just to find Riley barking at something. It seems to be nothing, but it soon turns out that there are a group of unfamiliar vehicles approaching you. The trucks are dusty and dirty, probably not having been used for some time, but you recognise them. It doesn‘t take long for the rest to get who it is, quickly making sure the children are escorted safely before you make your way out of the area as well.

You scramble yourself back up on your feet, ignoring the stinging pain it gives you when you put pressure onto it. The other vehicles approach fast, the soldiers at the back pointing their guns at your group already and starting to fire.

Your team gathers quickly again, feeling how an arm is slung over you, before you are carried towards your own trucks, realising that Soap just swept you off your feet and slung you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. You are seated back on one of the seats in the back beside him, seeing how he points his own gun to the enemies and starts firing.

»Giv‘ me a hand, kid?«

He shouts through the loud sounds of the firearms and the truck speeding off, needing to make sure you don‘t accidently fall out of it.

You don‘t think too much and reload your own rifle before starting to shoot after getting some position in which you won‘t fall out from. There‘s a small but noticable metallic thud that you hear, looking beside you to see a grenade laying between you and Soap. Without thinking, you grab it and throw it back, it exploding right before the vehicle of the enemies, which makes one of their tires to pop, and send the vehicle to crash.

One down.

»Good job, kid! Only two more to go.« Soap praises briefly before the next vehicle is in close enough range to fire at them, trying to aim for the driver. If only these stupid roads weren‘t so bumpy, you could actually land some decent shots. But they only seem to damage to windshield and not go straight through the glass, also getting annoyed at how bad the rest of the soldiers in the truck aim at you both.

With a low curse, you grab your own grenade and throw it to the vehicle in front of you, hoping it will do the same like the last one. It manages to hit the glass and punch right through it, exploding only a second after inside the vehicle. The driver is most likely done for and the truck loses its control, it flaming up as it drives off to the side and crashes.

There‘s not enough time to praise or express some proudness of your stragedy since the last vehicle seems to be the most stubborn one.

They seem to have some kind of machine gun that they point towards you, ducking quickly to avoid getting genuinely mauled by it.

»Drive faster, will ye! Why don‘t we have more explosives with us?!«

Soap curses at the driver which turns out to be Price at the drivers seat. He speaks through the comms to you, speeding up to full capacity to try and escape the enemy.

»We have ‘em! Use your eyes!«

The captains rough voice sounds through the comms and you are already searching for any of these things he just told you the truck has, just now seeing the case that looks useful. With quick hands, you muster the lid open and Soap is already pulling out a grenade launcher and pointing the heavy thing towads the other vehicle.

After two satisfying clicks, the machine gun the other team used is broken, now pointing at one of the wheels to get it down. It crashes down finally, some pathetic attempts of controlling the big vehicle are useless as it catches fire like the last one. You drive off the scene, being slightly startled of an explosion. The second truck you put down just exploded.

A stabbing pain catches your attention, looking dwn to your ankle again. Oh, right… you were bitten by big dog just a moment ago. The bandages around your ankle are still tight, some blood haven seeped through while you were defeating the last few enemies with Soap together.

The man beside you notices how you seem to be concerned about something and finally sits down normally besides you, even when it‘s still a little inconvinient at the back of the truck.

»Still achin‘?«

You pull your legs closer to yourself, trying to put it into an easy position.

»Dumb question, must be hell after fighting those guys.« He answers his own question at how careful you move. That raises Gaz‘s attention as he is in a vehicle with Farah and Alex, talking through the comms.

»How‘s Bane? Is the leg still on?« His voice goes through your earpieces, being forced to reply to it. You wouldn‘t want anyone worrying over you for no reason.

»It‘s there, in one piece. Could be worse.«

You answer back and sigh out exhausted, really wanting to just be somewhere safe and alone. This mission was really draining.

The rest of the drive was mostly silent, only hearing some brief comments from Your teammates as they talk among themselves from time to time. Once you arrrive at the base, you feel relieved. For most of the time you have been zoning out and thinking about other stuff, not sure how the rest will go on from now.

Soap helps you get out of from the truck, leaning against him to not put any weight on your injured ankle. Farah makes sure to get the bad guys out and into another vehicle to drive them to a cell, saving the interrogation for later.

Ghost keeps Riley close by, still careful not to let the K9 too close for your comfort. By now you feel much more calm and collected, even though everything still feels a little weird. Soap offers you to sit down but you decline, settling on using him as your support. He doesn‘t seem to have anything against it, his arm staying around your shoulders to make sure you don‘t fall or lose blance.

»What do you know about the dogs back there?« Price asks once he is back in front of you, getting the feeling that these couple of bastards hide something more.

You briefly explain what you know, it being the same things you told Ghost before. Their K9‘s having been ‚trained‘ to be more aggressive and bite everything that moves, not able to recognise what‘s actually a threat. The captian nods and processes the new information, hoping to finally get to the bottom of this soon enough to put them into their deserved cell. If not the Gulag even.

After finding out some more stuff, Farah gets to your team again, Alex taking some care of the people they are escorting to a temporary place to spend some nights in before they figure things out.

She sees you leaning against Soap, him having a supportive arm around your shoulder to give you a little more balance.

»Why are you standing here? Get inside and rest. You all know you‘re welcome here.« Farah scolds lightly as she sticks by your side and guides you both to a tent, telling some nurses what had happened for them to take care of you. Soap settles you down with a small frown before he gets back to the rest, petting Riley to have something to busy his hands with for now.

The nurses take good care of you, even offering you a small lollipop after the treatment. You accept it, noticing it‘s cherry flavoured. What a coincidence.

Your ankle had been bitten by the dog pretty hard, the way he shook his head had caused for your skin to have gone off quite a lot at the area he bit down. Luckily, you didn‘t bleed too much. The nurses told you to leave the bandage on and change it every night. It‘s obvious this will leave a messy scar, having gained another against your will.

The sweet flavour of the lollipop has helped with your thoughts though, staying seated on an extra bed while you quietly think to yourself. Finally, Price finds you and helps you up to leave back to your own base. Nikolai is already waiting by his helicopter, helping the others with the loading of your equipment. The sun is setting, it actually being almost nine in the evening by now. The mission had really taken a toll on you. Both emotionally and physically.

You get seated inside the helicopter, not being allowed with the loading this time. Riley gets a seperate transport again, meaning that Ghost won‘t need to restrain her from trotting over you happily while you‘re still clearly exhausted.

It‘s dark when they got finished with the task, settling inside afterwards. Once again, Soap settles beside you while Kyle takes a seat at your left side and the other two settle in front of you.

You don‘t bother putting your headset on though and straight up lean your head against Kyle‘s shoulder to relax in some kind of way. Nikolai puts on some music on once more, making sure it isn‘t as loud as the last time and flies you all back to your base.

After a short nap, you wake up to the rest talking among each other.

»Nik- we have plenty of MRE‘s in here, we don‘t need to stop by--«

You can hear Price argue as quietly as possible so not to wake you up, barely making out what they‘re saying at the moment.

A loud groan interrupts the captains voice, seemingly still not happy and stubborn to get his idea across. Soap mentions for you to put your headset back on, having a more amused look on his face. Once you wear it again, the rest notices and Nik lights up in excitement.

»Oh, awake? Do you know Mcdonald‘s? We should stop by and get us someting, don‘t you think so?«

»Who‘s McDonald‘s?« You ask back confused, still being slightly groggy from your short nap. Well, the nap that lasted almost an hour. A short silence follows after your confused question, while Price stands next to Nik in the cockpit, seemingly giving him puppy eyes to coax him into stopping by the fast food restaurant.

»No, Nik-« price gets interrupted again and the vehicle take a turn, making you a bit surprised.

»My heli, my rules.« Are the last words before he lands in a rather secluded area, not seeing anything beside darkness and a forest.

You can hear a mischivious laugh from the pilot before he gets off his seat and takes his wallet with him. Without any further discussion, Soap follows, having seemingly been on the same side as Nikolai. Price groans quietly but follows them to the fast food chain that shouldn‘t be too far off. »You do know this is going to the report?« He grumbles while walking beside him, soon being too far away to hear any of their bickering.

Kyle leans back in his seat once more, it being silent for a moment with just you three being inside for now. They return after some longer moments, them carrying smaller bags with them.

Soap hands you a happy meal and a capri sun, being a little surprised about it, but appreciated it. The rest gets whatever they ordered for themselves, Ghost not having ordered anything for himself this time. You try out the food they brought you, quietly enjyoing the chicken nuggets beside your teammates as you are all eating together and continue your way back to the base.

The rest of the flight goes by rather silent and peaceful for now, no longer antics or loud music playing in the background. You manage to fall asleep again, laying against Soap‘s shoulder this time.

Unfortunately, a nightmare plagues you, and you consider just never sleeping again with the amount of nightmares you still get, even with a nice company like them.

»I want to storm in! It‘s only fair, you always get to enter first.«

The very familiar voice pleads as she gets in front of you, making you smile slightly.

»Because I am the first in command. You shouldn‘t go in first, Halime.«

The conversation becomes more blurred and fast forward, getting in front of the door that leads to the basement, needing to get one last thing before finally going back to your dorm.

She somehow managed to change your opinion and enter first, not even realising what‘s happening first before her figure sags down and becomes limp.

You have no choice but to take out the hiding enemies out first and then tend to your close teammate, seeing how lifeless her eyes already look like. It‘s scary and the basement seems to shrink itself around you, the body in your arms slowly vanishing until she fully disappears and you see nothing but darkness.

There‘s a loud rumble waking you up from the unpleasant flashback, feeling a migraine form around your head. It seems like you landed just now, it being lighter outside again.

With a small sigh, you gather yourself up and leave with the rest, determined to not get any help on walking this time.

Riley arrives just a few hours later, not able to see her for now after the short debrief your team had, currently having to stay in your bed and rest. Even when you feel restless and even worse after that grueling nightmare, there isn‘t much you can do but stay in your bed and try to sketch something, having no energy to do so however.

a/n: again, next part is the final one, i will try to make the most out of it :3

[nemesis-writer]

Five Minutes (Chapter 3)

Masterlist Let the Games Begin TW: mentions of blood, mental illness

The Waynes were waiting in agony for their first game. They were prepared to battle it together. But what they didn't know is that they each of them have to go through it alone.

In the Base...

I'm only known as Eurus in the underground world but my name shall always be (Y/N). I have built myself up all the way just to taste the blood in my hands. I was never gonna be the next Robin nor Batman, so why not create a name for my own.

I was able to send the letter for the first test for them, and have it sent anonymously. Now, I need to sleep as well.

I maybe a concierge of crime, but I also need to be with my baby.

At the Waynes'...

Everyone had to keep their eyes peeled and remain unflinching. Whenever there is a delivery or a package, there is always an inspection with x-rays in order to make sure that it's harmless.

They had to take extra precautions in order to prevent the exploitation of their identities, along with the ramifications of their 'stainless' reputation.

Until it was finally there...

The first game.

It had 'DAMIAN.' Written in capital letters, and in the notorious green color designed. Thanks Riddler.

The letter...

There's a child's life on the line Little Demon. If you try to pull anything, so here's a little riddle.

Here's a riddle based on Squid Game, Saw, and a basement:

'In shadows deep, where fear does grow, A game begins, you do not know. With each step forward, the danger nears, The stakes are high, and so are fears.

Twisted minds, with plans so sly, Trapped in a place where you can't ask why. A room cold, with echoes loud, Walls closing in, no escape allowed.

Through chains and locks, you struggle, fight, But only the brave can see the light. The clock is ticking, time is tight, Where are you now? What’s out of sight?'

"Bruce, what does this mean?", Damian wonders.

"Walls closing in? Trapped in a- Oh shit." Bruce cursed. It was an unusual sight for Bruce to curse since he was usually informed how barbaric it was by Alfred.

"It's a basement of an abandoned factory." Bruce stated.

"A bit more specific since there's like a hundred of them especially in Gotham." Jason says.

"Alright so I need everyone to split up and go through every abandoned factory and if anyone sees any sign of life or a clue then speak in the comms." Bruce commanded.

They all spread out one by one looking for the kid or at least a clue. Factory to factory, street to street, they searched high and low and even the most minute details weren't left out.

Until they finally found it.

The first clue.

"Guys I found the first clue, I'm in Bludhaven Street."yelled Dick.

Everyone rushed and reached the basement. It also showed an old, probably made in the 1900's, telephone. They were too eager to even notice the hidden security cameras.

Damian eagerly opened it and read:

'In a room so small, the walls feel tight, A game is set, but not of delight. No choice, no chance to run away, You must stay sharp and make your play.

The door is locked, the air is cold, Silent whispers of the truth untold. A puzzle waits, a test of mind, With every step, danger you’ll find.

Ticking sounds, a faint warning near, What’s hidden here is crystal clear. Almost there, the end in sight— But tread carefully, or face the night.'

'Room, ticking, no chance, locked door.' Bruce tries to think of it.

"A bomb in an apartment." Jason figured out and yelled. All the the sudden the phone starts to ring.

"Someone answer the phone," Cassandra yelled.

"You answer the fucking phone," Damian replied.

"This is your test Demon Spawn there is a kid on the line and more people with the kid." Jason retorts.

Damian reluctantly answered the phone and heard:

'Congratulations for the first game, Where blood will spill and none’s to blame. A twisted start, a sinister plot, A place where hope is soon forgot.

The faces cold, their eyes wide with fear, For every step, a fate draws near. No room for mercy, no chance to flee, In this cruel game, there’s no decree.

As the doors close, the lights grow dim, The air grows thick with a haunting hymn. A moment's silence, a final breath, The line between life and certain death.

Congratulations for the first game, But it’s too late now to place the blame. Tick-tock, tick-tock, it’s time to spin, Let the games begin.'

Taglist

@lunayaps, @not-aya, @iluvcatzz, @vanessa-boo, @ivyrose9194,@thesehandsarerated-e, @eyeless-kun, @errorunfound1, @gwyneveire, @alishii, @cxcillia

[brights-place]

Floyd dating an S/O that can't speak English

Pairings: Floyd X Reader

Warnings: Floyd being an cutie patootie, Fluff

A/N: As an Person who can't speak english properly or that well I find this request so lovely! THIS IS FOR ALL THE PEOPLE LIKE ME WHO'S ENGLISH IS NOT THEIR FIRST LANGUAGE >:))

- The first time Floyd saw you he stood still and stared in awe like a deer caught in headlights - He wanted to talk to you then and there so he did he stuttered but loved how you smiled but when he noticed your accent he melted into putty

- Floyd loves you so much its well known that he does - He helps you practice English whenever he gets the free time, only if you actively wanna improve, he doesn’t mind otherwise

- Floyd makes sure that you are respected by everyone and if someone points out your accent he smiles while you tell them your from (Your country)

- He loves how you are always smiling when people ask about yourself and your culture along with your genre of music since you were also an troll

- He loves it whenever you sing in your language either in front of the others, or even just by yourself in your room when you think no one is listening to you.( Not that he will ever tell you he dose)

-The thing is that when people of the same culture/ethnicity meet it’s an automatic click and bond so when he see's you chatting with trolls who are the same culture/ethnicity as you he can't help but be happy

- He tries to learn your language which he succeeds in and would see you blush when he calls you "My Love"

- Learns about your culture and tries to make you feel like your at home - The way your heart did a double back flip and a barrel roll when he spoke in your home langage as you got all excited and giddy squealing - He loves how you start to praise him whenever he learns a new word which ends up with you two making out after a bit when he speaks in your mother tongue

- He LOVES IT! WHEN YOUR COOKING! he will tell you directly how much he loves it and hopes you would make more which you do

- When you struggle to speak english he makes sure to hold your hand and smile up at you

- He loves your accent and how you sound so angelic to him

- He likes leave light kisses and kissed all over your face. Your forehead, cheeks, nose, anywhere accessible to him he would kiss smiling while you laugh and try to stop him but he couldn't help but giggle -I swear he just zones out on you. Like he’s just hypnotized by you and all he’s thinking "Fuck i'm so lucky..."

- When you ever get mad he can't help but blush and cover his face with his hand. You switching languages makes him squeal but he also knows when your on the phone speaking to another language he knows that it was to let others around you know that your conversation was not for them.

- When you get mad and are close to ripping someones lungs out floyd has to stop you but sometimes he stays back watching you in awe

- You cursing in your home language and insulting someone he can't help but smile at how gorgeous you looked to him but to others they have fear in their eyes

- But whenever you two fight which is never ever happening unless your in an very bad mood and notice the mess in your house when he had his brothers over

- Like when he see's you fighting with someone he can't help but be smile softly when your yelling at him he would be worried trying to understand you but soon he smiles more and moves closer towards your pissed off expression "Your Beautiful when your mad" floyd said as you blushed

- he made sure to tell his brothers not to cause an mess next time coming over.

- Loves it whenever you come to his defense and cuss whoever is bothering him or making him uncomfortable - You have cussed out john dory face to face for what he had did to floyd in the past and - It warms is heart seeing you do that. You’re actually defending. He covered his face whenever you ask him if he’s OK since he’s blushing under the covered up part of his face with his hand.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2024 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact!

[lets-try-some-writing]

Anon angst! May I request some Smokescreen being a prime angst? More likely, what would the team think that Smokescreen is the new prime and OP's death? :3

Anon, you know EXACTLY what to ask me for. *cracks knuckles*

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

Optimus's vitals were completely untraceable. That could have meant he had been offline since the blast from the Nemesis or that he was hiding somewhere. Logically, Ratchet was inclined to believe in the former of the two scenarios. No mech, not even a Prime, could walk away from such devastation unscathed. Even Prima himself fell before the might of enough blasters and bolter shells.

Even still, the small hope that Optimus still lived kept Ratchet moving. There was no body yet. There was no Matrix. No confirmation that his Prime was gone. There was still time, and while there was still time, Megatron had to be stopped. His rulership of Earth could not be allowed to continue.

And so Ratchet handled the groundbridge while the team and Ultra Magnus went to war. Smokescreen was unaccounted for, but his groundbridge had also been rather unstable. His signal was, much like Optimus's, similarly untraceable. The rookie was too energetic to die. Yet another reason Ratchet wanted to believe that Optimus was still functioning, if only in some dark hole in the ground. He had to believe in something, and so he believed in his Prime as he guided the team in their work.

The battle began to spiral quickly. Their numbers were too few and even with Ratchet and Rafael throwing themselves into coordination, there was little that could be done. Their hope was dwindling, and as it did so, Ratchet found himself praying to a god that may or may not have even been real, begging for Optimus to again rise from the ash and smoke as he had done countless times before.

"Ratchet! Look!" Rafael pointed to the screen frantically, and within moments, Ratchet was speaking to the entire team with disbelief and fearful hope.

"It's an Autobot signal, but its... airborne." The signal was strange and largely unrecognizable. It had no ID attached, but its size specs fell well within Optimus's range. With Ultra Magnus fighting for his life, Ratchet could only come to the conclusion that his Prime had, again, somehow wormed his way out of death.

He smiled and his spark sang as he watched the signal. He had no video feed of the events playing out, but he could hear the sounds of exclamation from the team. He could hear Optimus's weapons firing through the team's open comm links and he could hear Megatron's scream of rage. Optimus was back. He was alive-

"Soldier... what is your designation?" Ultra Magnus's voice broke through the blur of joy and relief that flooded Ratchet's mind as the battle drew to a close and the team gathered to begin the trip back. The children sat a little closer to the screen, watching the Autobot signals clumped together as they listened to the audio coming through.

Did Ultra Magnus really not recognize his brother in arms after so long? Perhaps time and the damage from the blast were merely making things difficult for him to see-

"Nebulous Prime. The inheritor of the title Last of the Primes." The voice that came through the link was deep and baritone just like Optimus's. But there was a youthful lightness to it, a sweetness and silky sound that came from those who had not yet spent millennia screaming orders on the battlefield. There was no rattle or gruffness to his tone, whoever this Nebulous might be.

Ice cold fear shot into Ratchet's spark as he fell silent. He stopped listening to the audio and paced frantically as he waited for the team to arrive. It couldn't be possible. This wasn't possible. Optimus ALWAYS came back. Even from the brink of death. There was no way there was a new Prime. This had to be a mistake.

Optimus would never die. Not to Megatron.

"Ratchet, I'm sorry." Arcee came forward first. She looked tired on a spark deep level. The rest of the team followed her as she entered the hangar that Ratchet had moved everything to. The children watched with nervous eyes, their gazes uncertain as Bumblebee stepped forward next. His doorwings were dipped and he merely shook his helm, dried coolant streaks staining his face. Bulkhead and Wheeljack were came after him. Neither were pleased and both seemed grim.

"What happened? Where is Optimus?" Desperation laced his voice, and he was sure he sounded a moment away from breaking down into tears. He frantically scanned each of the team, silently assessing their minor wounds while he searched for familiar red and blue paint. Ultra Magnus was the last to come forward, and he held himself with as much grace as was possible considering the damage he had sustained.

Ultra Magnus opened his intake to speak, but his vocalizer halted. He looked to the ground, seemingly trying to come up with the words he wanted to say. Ratchet shook ever so slightly, his usually steady servos twitching erratically as he fought against his growing fears. Optimus couldn't be gone. Not for good.

"Step aside Commander." The command echoed in the hangar, and everyone froze as a mech stepped in with imposing but soft pedesteps. He was tall, just as tall as Optimus, if not slightly shorter. He strode forward with grace that was unnatural, seemingly new to the mech as he focused on his steps. Most of his frame was obscured in shadow as he approached Ratchet and the team. But for the briefest of moments, Ratchet saw familiar blue optics cycling wide in greeting.

He almost believed his faulty vision. But then the mech stepped into the light, and Ratchet's entire world came crumbling down.

"I am Nebulous Prime... I am sorry that this is how we have to meet again." Blue, yellow, and white. The colors were wrong, the frame shape was wrong. The new and deadly weapons weren't of the right caliber. The doorwings now made flight capable were nothing like the smokestacks that Ratchet knew and familiarized himself with. The face that greeted him was too young, even with the new and very clearly Primely classical additions.

This was not Optimus. This was not his Prime.

"No... Optimus always comes back." His whispered denial echoed in the silent base. Ratchet could feel his systems heaving in panic and grief, and yet he was helpless to stop it as the Prime before him frowned in that all familiar and yet entirely new manner Ratchet found dooming above all else.

"Optimus Prime became one with the allspark roughly six hours ago. The damage he sustained was too great, and he refused to use the Forge of Solus Prime when I brought it to him." The mech who was once Smokescreen shifted on his pedes. He looked like Orion just after he returned from Primus's core. Uncertain and confused.

Ratchet could not find it in himself to have any sympathy.

"He told me to restore the Omega Lock and Cybertron." Nebulous spoke with a commanding air that even he seemed unsettled by. The team looked to him instinctually, watching his every word and action as they once did for Optimus. Ratchet merely seethed.

What had Smokescreen done to be worthy? What had he done to warrant his life being preserved over Optimus's?

"YOU SHOULD HAVE RESTORED HIM INSTEAD!" A venomous cry escaped him before he could stop it. His plating flared, his fists shook, and never more in his life did he wish he had a valid reason to strike a mech.

"Despite his shortcomings, he always found a way! He, WE would have found some way to fix the Omega Lock without the Forge!" Nebulous watched him with tired optics that were unfitting of his youth. He frowned and seemed to watch Ratchet with a vague sense of detachment. The team refused to meet Ratchet's gaze as he tried to vent.

"Cybertron and our people take priority over any one mech. Even if that mech is a Prime." Nebulous declared softly. Ratchet almost saw red as he reached up and grabbed the new Prime by his neck guard, forcing to Ratchet's level.

"That mech was YOUR PRIME!" He could feel coolant begin to gather in his optics. He ignored his blurring vision in favor of watching in hatred as Nebulous remained still.

"He led us through the darkness!" He remembered Orion Pax and how he had gathered armies to lead forth to war. He was still just an archivist. He was no warframe, and he had never raised a weapon with intention to kill. Despite his fears and insecurities, he guided them all the same.

"He fought until the bitter end against every foe!" He remembered Optimus Prime, fresh from Primus's core and unsteady on his pedes. He had been so full of life then. So eager to throw himself into combat in order to preserve even one more life. Optimus's frame had been covered in so many scars by the time they left their world.

"He deserved to see our home restored!" He remembered his Prime, the mech he had dutifully stood beside until the very end. Optimus didn't smile often anymore, but when he did, it was full of fond affection. They had been through everything together, and Ratchet had been of the belief that they would remain companions until the end.

Looking at Nebulous, he saw that familiar depth in the Prime's optics. But it was that wealth of hidden knowledge that left Ratchet reeling in the truth.

"He did. And if I could have changed things, I would have. I never wanted to be a Prime, but this is the burden that was given to me." Nebulous slowly removed Ratchet's servo and held it softly, kindly even. It was not how Optimus held his servo on those rare occasions where Ratchet's oldest friend felt the need to show his affection. Optimus liked to cling to one or two digits at a time, a soft brush that would not be noticeable to any watchers. Nebulous held his whole servo firmly, and yet with enough ease that Ratchet could easily break away.

"I am not Optimus. I do not have his skill or his experience. All I have are echoes of knowledge that I do not know how to find or apply." Meeting the new Prime's gaze, Ratchet's anger began to fade. In Nebulous's optics, there was indeed the knowledge of the Primes. But lingering in his optics was also fear. Primal and deep fear of the unknown just like Orion when he took on the mantle.

He looked so much like the scared archivist Ratchet had spent vorns upon vorns comforting as he grew into his station. It was painfully familiar, but also saddening. Just a cycle ago, Smokescreen had stood before him, eager and willing to jest and fight at a moment's notice. Now a terrified youngling held himself with as much strength as he was able, desperately trying to not show his terror.

"I am not used to this frame. I am not used to this weight on my mind and spark." He shifted on his pedes, and only then did Ratchet see the way his new wings dipped to the ground, a form of communication any mech could easily read as distress. Nebulous's kibble was heavy and while he had been reformed to handle the weight, his unused arm hung limply at his side. Guns and other weapons seemed to crush him.

He was used to speed, but now he was a proper weapon of war. Just as Optimus had changed, Nebulous would as well. Given time, his frame would continue to shift until the Matrix was settled. But until then, he would continue to carry weight that Optimus had been comfortable with, but Smokescreen likely never would find himself at ease with.

"I am not Optimus." A tremor rang out in Nebulous's voice. For a moment, he looked like Smokescreen again. He looked scared and lost without his idol to lead him. Ratchet wanted to be upset, but the longer he watched, the more he found himself easing into his new and unspoken role.

Nebulous was lost. He bore the burden well enough for now, but he was grieving and enduring the weight of the Primacy all at once. Ratchet could weep later, in private. For now, he had work to do.

"But I will finish what he started, if only to honor him." Nebulous looked defeated even with his proud statement. The team looked to him in concern and then to Ratchet for guidance. Ratchet was the eldest amongst them. They needed a leader.

"We will finish what he started." Nebulous startled, his optics wide and his wings perking up. He must have expected Ratchet to decide to leave or possibly defect.

Maybe he would have if Nebulous didn't look so much like Orion Pax. Maybe he would have joined Megatron in order to kill him from the inside.

But not now. Not when Optimus's legacy stood on the brink of collapse.

"We will end this war." He clasped Nebulous's servo and hastily schooled his expression. Optimus would be avenged. But in the meantime, Nebulous needed all the help he could get.

Just as Ratchet had been a friend to Optimus Prime, he would be a guide to Nebulous, the Last of the line of Primes.

[justwinginglife]

hi!! may I request something again?^^

may I request soshiro found out that you can turn into a Kaiju or see you transforming into your Kaiju form. a little Angst but with happy ending please:›

You may always request something again! Also story note- for this fic, Imma just ignore that Kikoru Shinomiya exists, sorry yall, you're taking her spot now.

Half Human

Your whole life was one big irony in that your life's mission was to kill kaiju and yet you owed the very breath in your lungs to them. Your father, the Director General, Isao Shinomiya, had already lost his wife and he'd be damned if he was going to lose you too. He secretly brought a kaiju back to base alive and had several talented doctors and scientists exchange its core in place of your failing heart. The doctors weren't even sure it could be done, but when the abomination that was you was finally finished, they were all sworn to secrecy. You were to be the first and the only kaiju transplant survivor.

After all, if word got out that it was possible to enhance the human body directly with kaiju organs, without use of a suit, there would be chaos. For one, the suit industry would take an immense hit and the black market would reign supreme. Not to mention how much ungodly human experimentation could come about from failed attempts to successfully recreate the transplant. It might even make the Defense Force's job more difficult- trying to take Kaiju in alive was significantly more dangerous and strenuous than just killing them.

With all these things in mind, your father kept the tightest lid on the situation. No one but you, your father, and the team that had worked on you knew this secret. But today, one more would find out.

Your father always carefully monitored your vitals in case you ever rejected the organ, and you were always reminded to keep your emotions in check so as to not set off the kaiju side of you. You thought that you'd learned to keep most of your emotions at bay, but apparently that control you had did not apply to anything even remotely related to the Vice Captain.

One time you'd heard someone shit talking him and you accidentally stabbed through your own tongue because your anger had called your fangs to emerge. And it didn't help that the Vice Captain glimpsed the blood dripping from your lips and tried to help you. You always wondered if you'd be able to feel human emotions anymore since you no longer had a human heart, but he quickly put that fear to rest because every time he reached for you, touched you, cared for you, you felt like you could feel your nonexistent heart beating rapidly. It felt like he was the only thing grounding you in your humanity.

Your father must have caught onto this at some point because he'd frequently make excuses to call you to headquarters when he felt like you might be getting too close to Hoshina. Today was one of those days.

You had gotten the summon early this morning and you were annoyed but you knew you that as much as you wanted to rebel against your father as his daughter, as a soldier in his Defense Force you couldn't very well disobey a direct order from the Director General. Especially when no one knew the reason you were called to headquarters so regularly. So you went to him.

By the time you finally concluded your business with your father it was late (you refused to stay the night in his division and let him have anymore hold over your life as it was) and you were waiting for the next train back to the Third Division when you felt your comms buzzing in your pocket. You thought it was strange as everyone should be either asleep or going to sleep soon, but you popped the comms in anyway, eager to hear what was going on so late at night. The base was under attack. It was a Daikaiju. The Vice Captain was fighting him. And losing.

You start to get dizzy. Sweat trickles down your forehead. The world seemed to be blinking in and out. You shake your head trying to get ahold of yourself but you know it's no use. You still haven't learned to get your kaiju side under control and on the rare occasion when you slipped and went berserk only your father could bring you back from that place of darkness. You clench your fists, straining, and gripping onto what was left of your humanity but your lower half had already started to turn.

"No- don't. He needs me. I can't be rampaging in another division right now." You beg the beast inside you.

It doesn't listen.

You feel the transformation reach your neck, a growl already starting to rise up your throat.

"I said stop! Damnit, st-"

Your voice is no longer your own. All that's left of you is one half of your face now, and the beast is slowly closing in on it. It's hungry. It hasn't been let out in awhile.

You look up at the moon, blinking back tears, thinking it might be awhile before you see it again, before you're yourself again. You wonder how long it will take your dad to find you and you wonder if he will even be able to change you back this time. He was getting older, getting weaker. What if you killed him this time?

And what if when you woke up, if you ever woke up again, the Vice Captain was dead? What would you do with your life if you weren't listening for his footsteps in the hallways or listening for his laugh in the air? If he wasn't telling you a joke or complimenting your stance, would you make it through the day? If you went through life not ever having told him how you felt, would it still feel like you were living?

You start to spiral in your own dark thoughts as the transformation spreads across your face, but right before it hits your ear you here the comms crackling.

"Vice Captain! Come in, Vice Captain! Sir, please respond!" Okonogi. She's yelling for the Vice Captain. Something must've happened.

Your vision starts to go red. You punch the lamppost beside you, but you're surprised to find that it's your fist that hits the metal. Not the beast's. You look down. Only your legs are still transformed.

You actually laugh out loud. "That's more like it. Time to go." You jump once, and it propels you into the sky. You use the momentum to launch yourself towards the Third Division. Somehow your legs are faster than a moving train, bringing you bounding towards the training grounds in what seems like no time at all.

Before you can even think about the consequences of being half transformed on base where the officers are literally trained to kill kaiju like you, before you can even think about how your father will probably kill you himself for revealing the secret he's worked so hard to protect, you're already jumping in front of Hoshina as you transform your arms and block a blow that could've been deadly.

He doesn't even have time to be stunned, you're injured.

He jumps to his feet, concern on his face, as you spit blood. You've not fought anything in your kaiju form before (the most you've done is scare the shit out of some pigeons before your father found you and changed you back) and it takes some getting used to.

"Well fuck. That actually hurt, damnit!" You yell at the kaiju. It laughs at you. You raise an eyebrow. It seems to understand you. You're astounded but you don't care to think too much about it before you launch a punch at its abdomen.

It groans but then it chuckles. "Is that the best you've got?"

"Ah so you do talk. That's fucking creepy, not gonna lie." You punch its chest this time.

It staggers backwards and Hoshina takes advantage of the opening, slashing at its legs. It lands on its back.

You hurl yourself high into the air and then crash down hard on its head with a deafening blow that splits its skull. But it starts to slowly regenerate and it shakes you off of it. You land at the ground by Hoshina.

"So are we ever going to talk about the whole 'you being a half kaiju hybrid' thing?" He asks you, eyes still trained on the shuddering beast in front of him.

"Really? Now? We're a little busy Hoshina."

He laughs- he actually fucking laughs. "Oh really, because here I thought we were having a nice little tea party."

You roll your eyes but you can't help but smile at his poor comedic timing. "I'll treat you to some tea if you tell me where the damn core is."

He points to its back. "Lil fucker is hiding it in there."

You nod. "Got it."

The kaiju rises to its feet, ready for another round.

"Do me a favor and be bait, yeah?" You tell Hoshina and then before he can protest, you charge its back.

The kaiju swings at you but you duck.

"Oh I'm the fucking bait? Real classy." Hoshina grumbles but he complies, charging at its front, slashing at it and keeping it busy while you circle behind it.

You run up the stairs of a nearby building and when you reach the top, you launch yourself from the roof.

"This one is for making Hoshina bleed." You mutter under your breath before sending its organs flying as you rip through its flesh and pummel its core to bits. The aftershock sends you flying and you don't have time to land properly. You smack the floor on your side, tumbling in circles until you finally slow.

Your ribs feel like they're caving in but at least the kaiju is down for good. You lie in the dirt, coughing painfully and looking up at the night sky. You're fully human again, like the beast inside you curled up and went to bed, letting you feel the full force of the pain alone.

Hoshina rushes over to you. "Oh my god, are you okay?!"

You cough again. "Not sure if I'm up for that tea party anymore. Might've fucked up a lung or two."

He rolls his eyes. "You would make a joke at a time like this."

"And who was the one asking me stupid questions mid fucking fight?" You tease.

He laughs.

"So... are we going to talk about it now?" You swallow, wondering how he'll react to this new side of you.

He thinks for a moment. "Talk about what? As far as I know, a human saved me from the kaiju. And it looks like," He chucks a rock at the nearby drone, "The rubble badly damaged any footage that might've been captured."

You sigh, relieved, and relax against the ground.

"But... if there's anything you want to tell me later... when you're ready, I'll listen."

There were so many things you wanted to tell him and you being half kaiju was the least important of them. But you'd save that for another day, maybe when less of your limbs hurt.

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

"By the way, did you really brutally murder the kaiju just because it made me bleed? Your comms were on."

"Shut up, Hoshina."

[awkward-walking-potato]

hey hi hello id like to ask if you do male reader or gn reader...;;,,,, specifically for your writing about kurt,, i am so whipped for him but also very much a guy and would make a request if you do male reader (if not ill ask elsewhere so dont worry if not x)

Saved by Nightcrawler

The mission had gone sideways faster than anyone could have predicted. What was supposed to be a simple reconnaissance in a remote facility turned into a full-blown fight for survival. The enemies—mutant-hunting sentinels—had arrived out of nowhere, their red eyes glowing with malicious intent as they targeted the team.

The squad was outnumbered, scattered across the facility. Amid the chaos, [Y/N] found himself cornered, an enormous sentinel bearing down on him. The machine’s arm raised, a deadly energy beam charging up in its palm. Time seemed to slow as he braced himself for the worst.

But just as the beam fired, there was a sharp BAMF and a puff of smoke. In the blink of an eye, [Y/N] was snatched from the sentinel's path, reappearing a few feet away with a distinct sulfuric scent lingering in the air.

"Kurt!" [Y/N] gasped, heart pounding in his chest as he realized who had saved him. Nightcrawler stood beside him, his hand still gripping [Y/N]’s arm, his golden eyes fierce with determination.

"You alright?" Kurt asked quickly, his voice edged with concern.

"Yeah, thanks to you," [Y/N] breathed, still shaken but relieved. Before he could say more, Kurt teleported again, taking them to the relative safety of a nearby corridor.

"Stay here," Kurt ordered, his voice firm but gentle. "I’ll be back."

[Y/N] nodded, though every instinct in his body screamed at him to follow. But he knew better—Kurt was fast, agile, and could get in and out of tight situations better than anyone else. If anyone could handle this, it was him.

Still, the minutes that followed were excruciating. The distant sounds of battle—explosions, metal clashing against metal, and the unmistakable BAMF of Kurt teleporting—echoed through the facility. [Y/N]’s mind raced with a mix of fear and concern, hoping Kurt was okay.

And then, suddenly, the noises stopped.

Unable to stay put any longer, [Y/N] bolted from his hiding spot, running through the corridors, his heart hammering in his chest as he called out for Kurt.

When he found him, his breath caught in his throat. Kurt was on the ground, a deep gash across his side where the sentinel’s beam had clipped him. He was breathing, but barely, his usual vibrant energy dimmed as he struggled to stay conscious.

“Kurt!” [Y/N] cried, dropping to his knees beside him. Kurt’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, his golden gaze unfocused and pained.

“Sorry,” Kurt rasped, his voice weak. “Didn’t… didn’t get out in time.”

“Don’t talk,” [Y/N] said quickly, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. He pressed his hands to Kurt’s wound, trying to staunch the bleeding, but it was bad. They had to get out of there—now.

[Y/N] fumbled for the comm device on his belt, calling for an emergency extraction. But he knew it would take time, and time wasn’t something Kurt had a lot of right now. Desperation gripped him as he realized there was only one thing he could do.

“Kurt, I’m going to get you out of here,” [Y/N] said, his voice trembling slightly. “Just hang on.”

Kurt’s eyes met his, and he managed a faint smile. “Don’t worry… I trust you.”

Kurt’s words gave [Y/N] the strength he needed. He hoisted Kurt up, supporting him with one arm while keeping pressure on the wound with the other. With every step, he could feel Kurt slipping further away, his breathing growing more labored. But [Y/N] refused to let him go—not after Kurt had saved his life.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached the extraction point. The jet was already there, and [Y/N] quickly got Kurt inside, shouting for the medical team. He didn’t let go until they pulled Kurt from his arms, rushing him to the medbay. Even then, his hand lingered on Kurt’s for just a moment longer.

Hours later, [Y/N] paced outside the medbay at the mansion, his thoughts a chaotic mix of fear and worry. The mission was long over, but the image of Kurt lying there, bleeding, refused to leave his mind.

Finally, the door opened, and the medbay doctor stepped out. “He’s stable,” she said, and [Y/N] felt the tension drain from his body. “He’ll need rest, but he’ll be okay.”

“Can I see him?” [Y/N] asked, his voice raw with emotion.

She nodded, and [Y/N] quickly slipped into the room. Kurt lay on the bed, his blue skin standing out against the white sheets. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady but shallow. [Y/N] walked over, pulling up a chair beside him, and sat down.

As if sensing his presence, Kurt’s eyes slowly opened. When he saw [Y/N], he smiled—a tired but genuine expression that made [Y/N]’s heart ache with relief.

“Hey,” Kurt whispered, his voice still weak.

“Hey,” [Y/N] replied, his voice thick with emotion. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”

“Sorry,” Kurt said, though the playful glint in his eyes told [Y/N] he wasn’t too sorry. “Guess we’re even now, huh?”

[Y/N] chuckled softly, though tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

There was a long pause as they just looked at each other, the weight of everything that had happened hanging in the air. [Y/N] wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in his throat. Finally, he took a deep breath and spoke.

“Kurt, I…” He hesitated, the words still feeling too big, too important. But he pushed on, knowing he had to say it. “I was so scared I was going to lose you today. I didn’t realize… just how much you mean to me.”

Kurt’s eyes softened, his expression tender as he reached out to take [Y/N]’s hand in his. “You mean a lot to me too,” he said quietly. “More than I can put into words.”

[Y/N] squeezed Kurt’s hand, his heart pounding as he leaned in closer. “I don’t want to keep pretending,” he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. “I care about you, Kurt. A lot.”

Kurt’s breath hitched, and for a moment, [Y/N] thought he might say something, but then Kurt simply closed the distance between them, his lips brushing against [Y/N]’s in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle, almost shy, but it carried all the emotions they had both been holding back.

[Y/N] kissed him back, pouring all his feelings into that one, tender moment. When they finally pulled away, Kurt’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, and [Y/N] knew his own eyes were just as bright.

“Can I kiss you again?” Kurt asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.

[Y/N] smiled, leaning in to capture Kurt’s lips once more, this time with more confidence, more certainty. The kiss deepened, [Y/N]’s hands gently cupping Kurt’s face, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath his fingertips. Kurt kissed back with the same intensity, his tail wrapping around [Y/N]’s waist, pulling him closer.

When they finally parted, [Y/N] rested his forehead against Kurt’s, both of them breathing heavily, their hearts racing in unison.

“I love you,” [Y/N] whispered, the words coming out easily now, as though they had been waiting to be spoken.

Kurt’s smile was radiant, his eyes filled with love and affection. “Ich liebe dich,” he whispered back, his voice full of warmth and sincerity. “I’ve wanted to say that for so long.”

[Y/N] pressed a gentle kiss to Kurt’s forehead, his heart overflowing with emotion. “You saved my life today,” he murmured, his fingers lightly tracing Kurt’s cheek. “But more than that… you’ve saved me in so many other ways.”

“And you saved mine,” Kurt replied, his hand still holding [Y/N]’s tightly. “In more ways than I can count.”

They stayed like that for a long time, just holding each other, savoring the warmth and comfort of being together. The fear and uncertainty of the day melted away, replaced by the steady, reassuring beat of Kurt’s heart beneath [Y/N]’s hand.

As the night settled over the mansion, [Y/N] knew that this was just the beginning. The beginning of something beautiful, something they had both been waiting for. And as he held Kurt close, feeling his breath against his skin, [Y/N] couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

[deepspacespicy]

Part 1 blurb to toxic AND doomed shockwave x cybertronian reader: before the fall

I have been so PLAGUED by thoughts of Shockwave I swear to god this idea has been in my head for days (also note that I haven't read any of the comics where half of this lore comes from so if I get something wrong please tell me 😭)

So this goes back to the Senator Shockwave days right. Expressive, vibrant, empathetic, iconic, etc.

Then there's you. Lower class worker, probably a service bot of some kind like a waitress or factory drone.

He meets you when you're scrounging together energon to feed yourself. You lock eyes with him and freeze, not only because obviously you recognize him but because you know he knows too that all the excess energon is supposed to go back into storage, but... you havent had enough to eat recently.

I don't think Senator Shockwave would ever report someone for a victimless crime and as such turns a blind eye, even going so far as to keep your boss occupied so you can finish scrounging, which you remain suspicious of until he contacts you again later.

He's amicable like every politician is supposed to seem, but then he starts asking you questions, like how often you get rations and if they're of any decent quality. You tell him to frag off, thinking things some weird pity thing for clout but he apologizes for infringing, but that he suspects a global energon shortage is in the horizon, a result of expansion and over population on the planet. He tells you he's working to find an alternative energon source for the future of Cybertron.

You tell him to take his fear mongering propaganda elsewhere, but much to your horror he does not. Even worse, the longer he wears on your patience the more you think he might actually have a point. Even while arguing where you can, by the end of the encounter you're forced to concede that he might be on to something, but it makes no sense as to why he'd waste his time to tell you all this when he could be campaigning for more support.

His optics twinkle when he speaks. "It wasn't a waste." He says. "You believe me, don't you?"

He departs shortly after, citing a need to get back to that campaign of his. You watch him leave, baffled by the encounter and left wondering about the future.

That was, unfortunately, far from the last you'd see of him. He seemed to seek you out, which was crazy, because every time you spotted him you clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes.

You're strong-willed and you're smart. That's what he likes about you. It takes a while of him wearing you down with his presence before you realize you're actually fairly comfortable around him. He doesn't treat you like a subject or as the lower class bot you are, he treats you like a friend, a peer even. You give up trying to understand him and before you know it, your walls have come down and he's waltzed inside your spark.

You can't see each other with any frequency due to his busy schedule but you keep up via comms and he comes to visit you whenever he can. It's always been harder for you to travel to him all the way up in the nicer parts of Iacon but he's always told you he didn't mind.

You become confidants, he tells you about Orion Pax, his hope for the future, and his concerns and arguments with the functionists on the senate. He talks a bit about his experiments but doesn't go too deep in detail about them. They put you off a little because generally they do seem a little unethical but this is before he's willing to actively put people's life at risk, so you tentatively agree that the ends will justify his means.

[rainystressed247]

Ok this one will be long!

“Is not good Phil, the Voices are very insistent that the Egg is getting more powerful now that it has Dream, I can even say that Dream is more powerful too, but the way the vines cling to him… we need to get him out” said Techno bandaging his own injuries as he saw Philza walk around taking books and then going through his comm and then back to what Techno could only compare to a telephone guide. “Phiiiil what are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry mate, just trying to find someone that could help us” informed Phil as he smirked “and I think I found the perfect demon for the job”

—————————

“I dont like this plan” complained Techno quietly, he was once again sneaking around Pandora’s, he was barely healed and now he was again in the accursed place.

“You dont have to like the plan but this is going to work, you just need to keep keep distracted whoever is going to be there with him” said Farfadox, a demon of the same race as Bad, he was a friend of Dream from out of the server, and he immediately came once he was explained the situation.

They found Dream closer that what they thought, he was talking to little panicking blobs and both knew they where out of time, Farfa stepped out of the shadow that had been covering for them so long and struck Dream, blood and vines spilling from the wound, repairing the damage as Punz appeared to protect Dream, the mercenary was good but not as good as Techno and Farfa together.

“This is for your own good” said Techno tying Punz down as Farfa made sure to strike Dream again as the vines kept trying to heal the priest.

“We need to go now” said Techno hearing more people coming. Farfa nodded and carried Dream, vines withering as they put more space between them and the Egg.

————————

“You both know that he needs to heal right?” Mused Phil as he saw the floating looking corpse on the main fountain of the church. The silence that followed made him chuckle without humor.

Phil looked at Dream, it was… a terrible thing to see, the once proud fighter was little more of a skeleton at this point, the vines that had been purged out of him had been literally all that had been holding Dream together, he lamented to see him like this, the potions did almost nothing to help until a bigger dose with resistance was added.

“Is going to be ok mate, you are safe now” he said almost fearing that it sounded more like a lie.

————————

Dream was dreaming, so so deep in his mind where the last traces of what he once was had gone hide, now he was hiding in the too, escaping from the pain and the screams of the Egg that wanted him back, but Dream was dreaming, he was a dreamer, he was not to awake soon, not when it was so warm and so quiet and so cold but he could handle this mix of warm and cold that made him remember the feeling of swimming in the ocean during the hot summers, it was wam and cold and quiet like a lush cavern, he like that thought so he dreamed again, not wanting to wake up yet, he was a Dream so he kept dreaming

This, this is what I have been saying when I say to fill in the blank!!!

So, for context because sometimes it escapes me too. This is not the first time the Egg has appeared, so this is playing into the whole time loop thing. But also, this time loop is not a 100% lore compliance, more like I subsitute with Dream's past life aka tales.

It is not the first time the Egg has approached Dream either. In the past, the red eye war, Sir Billaim's mansion are all instances in which Dream has confronted the Egg. And knowing how the current timeline is still...well here, it is safe to assume that the Egg is defeated in each timeline before this, often with sacrifice on Dream's end as well.

[theoceanoasis]

Rodimus accidentally being inseminated with Soundwave’s sparkling

With the end of the war everything was changing one of those was his medic. He'd always had Ratchet as his medic but now he was looking into finding someone else.

Ratchet was great but he had other options now and wanted to try a... Nicer medic.

He was a little nervous going to his first appointment with his new medic. Ratchet had sent over all his medical information which was good.

He was probably glad it was one less person he had to deal with. Ratchet mentioned wanting to have more personal time now that the war was over.

His new medic used to be a Decepticon, but he was also a race car and had a shiny finish.

Since the war was over and a peace treaty had been signed. He thought it couldn't hurt to help blend Cybertron together. Even though the war was over they were still divided.

Walking into the clinic he was a little nervous because it was mostly Decepticons. However the appointment went well. Until he learned that he'd have to come back for his interface equipment to be looked at.

He always hated those appointments and he put it off for as long as possible. Which caused him to have a different medic since Knockout was on vacation with his Conjunx.

Even though he didn't want to do this. Especially when his medic wouldn't be there he forced himself to go.

The medic treated him strangely which he already didn't like making a comment about his looks.

He didn't know what to expect since this wasn't his usual medic but he didn't remember it hurting so much. He assumed the Decepticons didn't mind how rough their medics were but Ratchet never caused him pain like this when he was examining his array.

When it was over he felt sore down there and was happy to be done with it.

Days later and he started feeling sick. He'd throw up in the morning and then be fine for the rest of the day. He was also tired all the time, his moods fluctuated frequently and he was always hungry constantly having cravings. Even the energon he usually drank was now disgusting and he'd started drinking something else.

He was looking in the mirror noticing some weight gain when his comm rang. He quickly answered it confused when it was Knockout and he sounded stressed.

"Please come to the clinic immediately."

He then hung up leaving him alone to wonder what was going on. He took one last look in the mirror and then drove over. Afterwards he planned to hit the tracks to hopefully lose the weight he'd gained.

When he got there the clinic was quiet and he was quickly ushered into a room.

Knockout stood there looking nervous and trying to hide it. The medic who did his interface equipment exam looked terrified and was shaking. Ratchet was also there looking mad and Soundwave was there for some reason, but it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

"Sit down."

He did as he was told shifting in discomfort from everyone looking at him.

"There was a mix-up during your appointment."

"A mix-up!?"

Ratchet looked mad glaring at Knockout.

"What kind of clinic is this? How could something like this have happened?"

"What's going on?"

He gave them all a nervous look and Knockout sighed.

"You were supposed to get an exam done on your interface equipment which is standard procedure. However there was a mix-up."

Ratchet huffed and Knockout ignored him.

"Our medic here."

They froze staring at him in fear.

"Made a mistake."

Ratchet glared.

"They accidentally inseminated you with Soundwave's transfluid."

It was quiet for a long moment as he struggled to digest what he'd just been told.

"What!"

He shouted looking at them in shock.

"How could this have happened?"

"They thought you were Soundwave's surrogate and inseminated you. Now the question is if you're sparked or not."

He froze spark pounding as he thought about his recent symptoms. He rubbed his tanks and Ratchet shoved the other medics away grabbing some equipment.

"Let me do it and after this I want you to become my patient again."

"If he's sparked with Soundwave's..."

"Soundwave will just have to deal with it. If he's sparked Hot Rod would be carrying the sparkling not him and he doesn't get a choice."

Ratchet glared at Soundwave who remained silent. He didn't look at him instead he stared at the equipment. Shivering when Ratchet rubbed cold gel on his belly.

He then put some kind of stick against it and they all watched on the monitors as the beginnings of a sparkling appeared.

His optics widened and he felt like he was going to be sick. Ratchet grabbed a bucket passing it to him just as he threw up.

The medic responsible for this mess looked horrified and Soundwave glared at them while rubbing his back. He leaned into it for a second before remembering who was touching him and quickly moved away.

He found himself shaking crying as he begun to have a panic attack especially with everyone talking at once.

Ratchet kicked everyone else taking over as his medic.

"This is your choice. You never wanted this and I want you to take a few days to think things over."

He nodded still shaking and crying. Ratchet let him stay there until he was ready and when he left the room the clinic was empty and he didn't have to worry about anyone bothering him.

He went home and curled up in bed trying to figure out what he was going to do.

[orion-nottson]

the comet did not reply | tfp!megatron x reader

A/N: my dualities of man: megatron smut and megatron angst 💀 this one’s literally crazy insane among us balls tbh so please proceed with caution if you choose to read!!! heed the warnings!

also, megatron probs comes across as a lil ooc in this, considering the ~premise~ i establish in the story (you’ll understand if you read it 😈) but for realsies i really really did try to keep him in-character/in-line with how he’d act/react in this scenario!! 😭

title is inspired by a line from and also with you by natalie shapero.

summary: you’re old, weary, and it’s hard to fight a war when you feel like you’re losing. and the mech you once loved love leads the other side.

content: 18+ ONLY, minors DNI, DARK, cybertronian!reader, gn!reader, suicidal ideation, past relationship, break up, lovers to enemies, referenced infidelity, war, violence, injury, major character death, no happy ending

word count: 4,925

~ * ~ * ~

~ * ~ * ~

Wherever you are on Earth, it’s raining. Again. It’s the fourth mission in a row that it’s been raining. The warm water patters rhythmically on your armor, wetting your wiring and gathering in seams and joints. Shifting on your peds, the grass and soil beneath sink in that strange, soft way that you’re still not quite adjusted to. Organic planets are peculiar and always will be.

Back on Cybertron, “rain” wasn’t composed of water, but of highly corrosive, abrasive acids that could eat away at a Cybertronian’s frame if they chose to stand in it for too long. Which never happened, because most ‘bots had the common sense (and innate fear) to run for cover once city-state alarms were sounded.

Once, when you were barely out of your protoform, you had gotten sprayed with the “rain” and it left shallow, yet surprisingly painful, grooves on your back struts.

Lifting a servo, you watch Earth’s tiny, harmless beads of nothing more than oxygen, hydrogen, and occasionally elements such as nitrogen and sodium, collect at the divots and seams of your palm or drip off the points of your digits. Mesmerizing little pearls, leaving shimmering trails, careless and directionless.

“Ratchet, I am at location. It seems undisturbed, but if I don’t report back in a breem, I may require assistance.” You say across the comm, still watching the rain make rivers of you. After a beat, the old medic replies with a gruff and secretly worried, “Affirmative”. Then you disconnect the line and it’s silent— save for the rain— once again.

Scanning your surroundings, you take note of your location at the base of a sloping mountain to your left, the break in the forest right before it, and the expanse of wilderness all around you. You’d have better coverage with the trees, so you stick to the treeline, quietly marveling at how, despite your towering height, they are still taller than you. 

In the air, the droplets mess with your sensors— not nearly as bad as falling snow does— and the reduced accuracy in spatial awareness and cloaking raises your guard. If you had a partner with you (especially Smokescreen or Bumblebee), you’d be doubly cautious for them, but this is an increasingly more common instance where a member of Team Prime is sent alone for a mission.

If you were truthful, you didn’t mind it. Silence was becoming more and more a treasure to you, and you’d admit you began to almost frantically seek it out. It was too hard now to be... around others. Being present, having to act as if nothing is so fundamentally wrong, pretending for the morale of the team— It makes you want to crash your own drives so hard it takes a week for them to reboot.

Yes, isolation is easy, it’s kinder. Being alone with your thoughts is easier than being in a room full of people— All talking, all watching— where you have to squash them deep down, down where each terrible, horrible thought festers in the circuitry of your processors like a virus. It pains you to no end that you can never tell anyone this, but this is war frag it— Who isn’t suffering?

A heavy, nebulous weight settles in your spark like an all-consuming void, where it started aching vorns ago and seems to have grown only larger. System diagnostics find little physically wrong, usually just slightly elevated Energon circulation, so you know it’s all psychological. The thought doesn’t help. 

Being so lost in your helm made you forget your purpose here, a living-metal titan amongst trees beneath a steady rainstorm. The Energon locator in your servo bleeps rhythmically, faster when you angle it towards the mountain. That’s where a deposit probably is, though that means there may be Decepticons as well.

A passing thought of requesting back-up crosses your mind, and you dismiss it— Along with Optimus’ inevitable disappointed reprimand should you get into trouble— faster than an optic blink. You’d be able to hold your own against Vehicon drones.

And it is a tremendous effort to ask for help; You don’t speak that language anymore. Haven’t for eons. Especially not from Optimus, whose optics are always sad when he looks at you.

At least it’s raining. In the short time you’ve been on Earth, you learned to like the rain.

~ * ~ * ~

At the far side of the mountain from where you emerge from the forest, the rock opens into a jagged cave entrance. Crouching behind an outcrop of stone, you survey the open area and see no immediate signs of Decepticon activity. Waiting a few clicks, listening to the soft rain, you stand up and hastily cross the small distance to the cave. Hiding at the mouth of it, you peek past the edge.

Dark, damp, and most importantly lifeless, the cave looks like it hasn’t been touched in some time. You check the locator as you step inside, a blip on the screen confirming Energon a little ways in. The light of the device illuminates the cave walls, though with your specialized optics, the darkness doesn’t negatively affect your vision.

As you walk, the cave tunnels seemingly endlessly, winding occasionally but steadily declining as you find yourself going deeper and deeper into the Earth. Eventually, the layers of sediment will afflict the range of your communications, and you’d have to turn back. Or continue and be cut off. 

You weigh your options. Your pedsteps don’t stop.

A break in the tunnel reveals a more open area, where a cave fractures into multiple systems of shafts that stretch in all directions. Stalagmites sporadically rise from the ground, uneven and glistening with calcium deposits. The Energon locator pings, telling you that there is a deposit somewhere beneath the clusters of mineral ore.

Somewhere, cave water drips from the ceiling and lands with soft plinks! into puddles scattered across the wet rock ground. It’s not perfectly rhythmic like the rain on the surface, but you suppose it’ll do.

plink!

You count to three, audials straining to listen.

plink!

Two this time. You shudder.

plink!

Four. It is so quiet down here, you think, I want it to be quiet forever.

plink!

In a barbaric shift in volume level, the tell-tale sound of a groundbridge crackling to life behind you sets you immediately on edge. You whip around, making short work of the three Vehicons that appear from the swirl of light, getting them each with a blaster shot. Respite wouldn’t follow, as the large, foreboding frame of the Decepticon Lord himself strides from the groundbridge just as it flourishes into nothingness behind him.

In the sheer darkness, Megatron looks like a living shadow, no light reflecting off his silver armor except the slimmest amount from the glow of your optics and weapons. His optics shine menacingly, bright enough to bathe the nearest rocky formations in red. It wouldn’t be something that any other ‘bot would catch— barring Optimus— but the brief flicker of genuine surprise that crossed them is almost too much for you to handle. He hasn’t been this close to you in vorns.

Briefly, the sight of him conjures another vision in your processor— One of being within the gloomy underbelly of the Pits of Kaon, of being introduced to a determined, yet kind, gladiator, of his optics aflame, twin stars in the dark—

— Then, the last time you saw him up close: A gladiator scorned, storming from the Council in Iacon that just renamed Orion Optimus Prime, the silver mech filling with dark, dark resolve—

You return to reality almost painfully, ignoring the deep, throbbing hurt in your chassis— An internal diagnostic check reveals nothing physical. The mech that stands before you looks similar to the one you knew eons ago, but this mech is changed. His faceplates have hardened. He’s darker, more violent. Similar, but different.

It’s a sobering thought to realize you’ve become much the same.

“Megatron.” His name passes your dermas harshly, like saying it was sharp and jagged enough to tear up your intake. You slowly lift your still-smoldering blasters, flipping one to your sword instead. Megatron takes up an untroubled demeanor, lifting an optic brow in a grand display of supposed boredom. His true intentions are divulged by the cruel glint in his red optics. On guard, you adopt an offensive stance, bristling.

He says your name like it’s meant to please you, like nothing ever happened between the two of you, and it makes you feel sick to your fuel tanks. Why did it come to this, you beg yourself and find no answer, seeing again that kind-sparked gladiator of Kaon, but now a warlord stands before you. Nonchalantly, Megatron regards his slain soldiers and dismal, claustrophobic surroundings then speaks, “It has been quite some time since our paths last crossed so... intimately.”

“Keep that word from your mouth.” You snap without thought, too blinded by the rage and hurt and regret to act reasonably. Memories become insinuated, memories you once found fond that now you can’t look back upon without flinching. It breaks your spark, makes the void grow larger, but you box them away and hide them in that deep, dark place to rust.

When Megatron’s sword slides from his armor with a clean hiss, you realize you are pitifully, utterly alone. Dread creeps in through the same cracks as guilt does.

“Are you truly so quick to discard our history?” The silver mech asks, dermas twitching up into a smirk that brandishes his pointed denta. It’s a visceral feeling to see familiar features you once loved bastardized, to see the softer parts of him sharpened enough to harm. Barely contained shudders threaten to disarm you as your processor is unforgiving in letting you forget.

I remember so much, you beg, Allow me to not, just this once.

“I washed my servos of you eons ago.” You lie breathily, as you remember the phantom touch of his servos tender and warm against your armor. Places where he once held you burn, fires igniting all across your frame like tiny volcanoes of sparkache and sorrow.

“A shame. You once promised yourself to me.” Megatron drawls, and the glint in his red optics is cruel as the familiar tickling at your spark, a sensation that was once new and curious and that you both tested on each other, rouses awake like an old god from their eons-long slumber, shaking off the dust of vorns of dormancy and misuse. The connection is near instantaneous, near overwhelming, as you feel him enter your spark. Megatron’s sudden emotions of righteous fury and long-withheld grief are unwelcome visitors to your processors.

He is reopening your sparkbond. 

And as a weapon against you.

“How dare you.” You seethe, coolant tears gathering at the edges of your optics, your spark aching in your chassis. Megatron no doubt senses your turmoil, but your servos quiver so hard you feel no satisfaction from the knowing wince that crosses his faceplates. Bonds go two ways after all.

Then:

/No— How dare you./ Megatron sends the scathing message across the bond, his gravelly voice ringing somehow in your spark and not your audials. It has you gasping, blinking back tears, the burn of his voice branding rather than comforting. It’s been so long since you’ve heard him in this way.

“Do not act as though you are blameless.” Megatron snarls, and all the bond chants is Betrayal! Betrayal! Betrayal! as it throbs with his vengeance and pain. The accusation is hefty enough to shake you from your self-loathing and pity so that those ugly feelings get replaced by anger, which is easier than all of them. Rage hot beneath your chassis, you make sure to flood the bond with it.

“Betrayal? You don’t know the meaning of the word.” You hiss, the word’s mention wanting to make you laugh and weep, “We were not the ones that turned the revolution into tyranny! We didn’t cause Cybertron to die—”

“We! Precisely that!” Megatron exclaims angrily, and the words conjure images of Optimus Prime, of what your estranged conjunx believes you to have done with the Prime— flashes of curious, black servos, foreign dermas upon your own, promises made under guilty moonlight and secrecy— and your spark sinks deep, deep into your fuel tanks. Optics blown wide, you barely manage a horrified, “I never.”

/Have you?/ Distrust, cynicism, vexation.

“Pray tell, why else would you choose him over me?” Megatron jeers harshly, and it hurts to see the pain written across his faceplates as clear as a sunny day.

“Because I didn’t know who you had become!” You cry, gesturing vaguely as terrible memories start to resurface from the deep, dark place you ensnared them in, memories of Megatron after Optimus gained his title, of a glowering mech taking up arms under the name of the Old Guild, the birth of the Decepticons.

There were so many nights of fighting, of arguments that eventually forced you to make the terrible, spark-breaking decision to walk away from your conjunx as all that you fought for collapsed.

/And into the awaiting arms of Optimus Prime./ Bitterness. Contempt.

“NO!” You howl like some wounded Earthen animal, and you never used to be a violent person, yet here you are, charging with a sword drawn at your own sparkmate. A battle cry tears out of you like a demon let free, and you lunge at Megatron swinging your sword, the blade clashing against his with a metallic bang. A litter of sparks fly off the collision, more when your swords drag against one another, and you slide back defensively as you avoid a slash from him. Megatron sneers as his blade meets air, but gloats when his fist collides with your side.

You fly back, the shriek escaping your dermas abruptly stopping when you hit the stone wall. Pain receptors flare, a system diagnostic finding nothing severe enough that you’d worry. Just as you collect yourself, you dodge Megatron’s blade and he’d thrust it with enough impact that it imbedded itself in the rocks. As he struggles to free his arm, you swing your fist at his helm, connecting with his jaw, causing him to stumble on his peds.

This has the unfortunate side effect of dislodging his blade, and the silver mech wastes no time in charging you again. He roars, his hefty blade colliding with yours so intensely it sends shockwaves up your arm. You grunt, losing your footing, fully understanding now just how competent a gladiator Megatron was, and just how strong Optimus is to be able to best him.

“You know you are no match for me.” Megatron says as if he’s heard all of your thoughts— Which he probably has, in a sense. You glare at him and while your helm says I know, I don’t plan on winning, your mouth retorts headily, “You’ve never been one to be fair regardless.”

Swords clash, a kick is attempted, a fist is swung, you sail back hard against the wall— Again. Stone crumbles and falls around you, rocks bouncing off your armor and leaving knicks in your paint. Before you can stand, Megatron seizes your neck cables with surprising speed, and your groan warbles in your intake as he squeezes your vocal processors.

Pain flares as the silver mech heaves you to your peds by your neck, clawed digits digging into Energon lines at the base of your helm. Megatron is beaming widely as your gaze locks onto his, anger wild and crazed in his blazing optics. Your servos fly to his arm— At impact, your frame automatically disarmed— digits gripping at unforgiving silver armor. Your bond weeps in pain and terror, Megatron fights to meet it with indifference and coldness.

“Do not speak to me about fairness. It never existed on Cybertron, and it certainly doesn’t exist now.” The silver tyrant drops you like you’ve repulsed him, your peds nearly giving out as you manage to steady yourself. He has half the mind to look as though he’d strike you again, but he doesn’t. At Megatron’s side, his sword shivers, and with a twang! it retracts back into subspace like he wanted to keep it out and his body refused him.

“I cannot kill you.” He says after a beat of silence, while you barely manage to keep your footing, leaning heavily against the stone all around you. 

“Our— The bond won’t allow it.” You reply dryly, not looking at your conjunx, delicately touching your now-aching neck cables. The metal beneath is warm with pain, but not unbearable. 

“Then we find ourselves at an impasse.” Megatron’s stare bores holes straight to your spark.

“So we do.” You shrug, as if you could relinquish yourself of his gaze.

Megatron laughs then, humorlessly and clipped. His stare is a low glower, the type of piercing and forbidding better suited for a wicked animal than the mech you loved— love. His bond cackles cruelly at the word.

“Tell me why. After all that we experienced, all our trials and tribulations, all our toils and triumphs—” Megatron stalks like a pacing lion, then pauses so abruptly it gives you whiplash, “Why did you abandon me?”

— You see a gladiator beneath your window, your friend Orion Pax at his side, the two of them smiling grins that make you equal parts nervous and dauntless, Megatronus saying, Come with me, friend, we have a plan.—

“I already told you! I watched you change into something darker before my optics, become consumed, become… become…” Your mind frantically grasps for words and none fit, and you are rendered speechless and wordless again until, with horror, you ask, “How can you not see what you’ve become?”

Megatron does not answer, not verbally nor over the bond, and it’s then you truly have to come to terms with your reality and reconcile the past. 

“I thought you had love for me. I now know that I was deceived.” 

There was a time you loved Megatron— More than anything in the universe, when you both were far younger, more naïve, and things were different. Not better, obviously. You had met at the catalyst to the Revolution, when the unease and righteous anger of the under class imploded and burst the caste bubble. But it had been simpler: Long days of debating politicians, business magnates, nobles, and other close-minded bureaucrats, and even longer nights of replanning, reorganizing, and desperately invigorating your supporters when ideas of reform met deaf audials.

There were also rare moments when Megatronus and you lost yourselves in the quiet, tender aspects of a blossoming relationship. Progress has never been linear nor consistent, so throughout the early parts of the rebellion, when things were generally hopeless, it was easy to grow close for comfort.

Megatronus was intelligent, engaging, and charismatic. His drive to end the decrepit caste system on Cybertron showed you parts of him that were empathetic, angry, and even scared. He was also a mighty gladiator, so when he admitted his fears to you, it was beyond meaningful. You were given access to that heavily guarded spark of his, allowed to see the sensitive mech hidden within, the one that later proposed sparkbonding to you.

And you suppose Optimus loved Megatron too, and his fault is that he still does too much for him to let go. He may have all the wisdom of the Ancients, all the knowledge of the Primes, but he still has Orion Pax’s stupid, unshakable hope.

“Stop it.” Megatron says out loud, and you come to the realization he’s been sensing your melancholic nostalgia across your now open bond— And that you’ve begun to cry, coolant tears drawing rivers down your faceplates. He glares at you, servos flexing into tight fists and relaxing shakily. Air hisses from his vents as he shifts his armor plating in discomfort. He hates remembering just as much as you do. Hates seeing you weep.

“I did love you, Megatron. I believe I still do.” Your confession is quiet, and you must be an idiot too to still hang onto your love for your conjunx after all these eons of war, after everything he’s done. The difference between Optimus and yourself is that it isn’t hope that keeps you tethered to Megatron, but some intangible, senseless whatever that ties you to the idea of Megatron, the dream that your beloved Megatronus may one day return to you.

/I am still him. I have only just bettered him./

/No. My Megatronus died eons ago. You are an imposter possessing his body./

/You do not really believe that, do you?/

Shame brings your shaking servos up to your faceplates, hiding your tears behind them. Your processor fights to separate the image of Megatron from Megatronus and Megatronus from Megatron. The sound in your audials is like rushing water, faintly accompanied by a series of dull echoes, like rubble falling and falling...

“I lost you the moment you engraved that accursed symbol onto your chassis.” You bemoan, looking past your digits and at Megatron, at the sharp angles and harsh stare of the insignia on his chassis. You just missing the plume of dust that stems out from one of the caverns.

“I could say the same of yours.” Megatron replies bitterly, and he goes to say more, interrupted by the ground trembling, as if the Earth is grieving alongside you. For not the first time, you curse the Unmaker’s name for infecting poor, empathetic Mother Nature.

“Are you so jealous?!” You shriek, vocal processors high and shrill against the cacophony of noise in your audials, in your helm. Megatron regroups quickly, straightening his back struts and setting his broad shoulders, the perfect image of lordly crushing contempt.

“I did not intend on becoming so!” Megatron roars, the curl of his derma pulling his faceplates into an ugly, ugly snarl, “I was not destined for it! But you and Orion made sure that it became my fate.”

“Your own hubris made your fate.” You moan dolefully, anguished, stepping back as Megatron steps forward. You’re not sure if it’s the chaos of the situation or your pain that warps your perception, that makes the whole damned cave shake, but you’re not sure of anything anymore. Despair rolls off you in waves, and Megatron recoils from it, his bond slinking away like a cybercat back into the shadows that birthed it.

“Stop it.” Megatron hisses again, but you barely hear it over the sound of your own systems screaming at you, alerts informing you of an imminent drive crash, realizing too little too late that the stress, sparkache, anger, grief, and guilt of millennia has caught up to you. 

Megatron, despite blocking his bond, is hit with lashes of painful signals like a whip, his servos going to clutch his helm. Your spark is suffering, he opened the bond and now feels it too.

/STOP IT./

You do not.

Then there’s a grand and catastrophic sound of caves collapsing, of walls crumbling all around you, of the stony floor opening like the maw of a mountain god, and you fall.

Everything goes black and silent and still.

~ * ~ * ~

With a groggy start, your processors boot up and the immediate wave of white hot, steel sharp pain that hits you almost sends you into damage-induced stasis. Injury reports and survival statistics blare red and angry in your vision, alerting you to the widespread, lethal wounds you incurred in the sudden rockslide.

“You are awake.” Megatron speaks from... somewhere, and suddenly he is above you, and you are laying half propped-up by his lap. You aren’t sure how you got here, an unconscious diagnostic reveals that it’s been six Earth hours that you’ve been offline. The void in your chassis grows cold, your spark twisting with dread and confusion and...

There is a tell-tale sensation of Energon... leaving your body, pooling beneath you, slick and hot against your frame. Realization cuts swift and sharp through the haze. Experience tells you this isn’t a good sign.

“Did you pull me from...” The correct words escape you, your processor too busy sorting through the alarmed pain receptors, too busy with trying to operate properly as major Energon systems in your leg struts and abdomen give weak warnings. You realize that they shut down with extraordinary distress. 

“Yes.” Megatron’s reply is too soft, sounds far far away. He looks down at you— /When had I laid down again? / You’ve been in my arms for a breem./— and there’s something like pity in his optics, but it’s less sympathetic and more guilty. Coolant tears, that you hadn’t even registered clouded your optics, roll down the sides of your faceplates.

/You’re injured. I have nothing to help you./ Comfort, anguish, regret.

/I know. It’s okay./ Thankfulness, sorrow, forgiveness.

Your mind must be going— You recall the most random thing.

“Do you... remember when we... visited the Crystal City?” It’s harder to speak now, each word is forced out your dermas like your mouth is holding them hostage. Your glossa feels heavy— Strange, really, because the rest of you feels lighter than air...

“Yes.” Megatron repeats. The rumble of his voice sounds even more distant, like thunder far on the horizon. Wherever you both have ended up— /The depths of Earth./— it gets darker, less focused and more opaque. Megatron becomes an incomprehensible figure, and only his faceplates remain superimposed in your line of tunneling sight.

“It was so beautiful.” You whisper, recalling the spires of crystal diamond, the walls of glimmering mirrors, the streets paved in quartz and prisma-glass. Megatronus takes your servo in his, clawed digits wrap around yours, encasing you in warmth and gleaming silver. You smile a small, sad thing that doesn’t reach your optics. Looking into your conjunx’s, you’re glad to see them as blue as oceans. Then you blink, and they are red. 

“It was.” Megatronus agrees, and although he’s warm and his EM field tickles against yours, your pain receptors cut off abruptly, signifying the start of what approaches.

Death is a commonplace occurrence these days, far more so after the Well of Allsparks went dark and Cybertron fell with it. It’s something every remaining Cybertronian has thought of, Autobot and Decepticon alike, of what can extinguish their spark, of when that invisible force comes to move them.

It’s all whether to fight it, to run from it, or to embrace it. There was a time you thought of returning to the Allspark, becoming one with your Maker once again, with unease and fear. It used to scare you, though now nothing does. You’ve found comfort and gratitude in the belief that you’d see lost loved ones yet again, once you’ve moved out of your frame.

“I loved you. Once.” You say, optics flickering as your body begins to allocate energy to more vital, still hemorrhaging, systems, “I never... lied about that.”

“And I was foolish enough to allow you to. Then and now.” Megatronus leans in and your spark sings as he places a wonderful, tender, sorry kiss on your dermas. His mouth is rougher than it used to be, but less clumsy and more assured. You smile into the kiss, wanting it to never end, so Megatronus lingers.

/You’ve changed. Your dermas have changed./ Delirium, realization.

/As have you. As have yours./ Worry, acceptance.

“I am not frightened by my ending.” You whisper after Megatronus has parted from you, and across your bond you hear And you never have been but Megatronus’ mouth says, “As no good warrior should be.”

His servo tightens its grip, his dermas in a hard line, the bond laments Acceptance.

“I will… see you again.” You say on your last ex-vent, and Megatronus is sure it’s a statement rather than a question.

/When you summon me, I will answer./

And Megatron watches your optics flicker, then not come on again.

~ * ~ * ~

Megatron sits with your body for another breem, taking in the beautiful stillness of you as he feels your spark diminish from his.

He’d always heard that losing a conjunx is beyond painful, that there were cases back on Cybertron wherein those that lost their sparkmates often suffered and died with them. Megatron doesn’t feel that; The severance of your bond with him is agonizingly slow and recedes like a fire dying out, but it doesn’t leave him in pain. You’ve left him empty. Hollow.

Megatron looks at your servo he holds. It fits perfectly in his palm, but now you are cold to the touch. His spark shivers once in his chassis, and now it too feels cold. You are gone. You are not coming back to him, not as anything living— Not as his friend, his conjunx, not even as an enemy.

Megatron invites the anger inside him like a welcome friend, letting it swell up from his peds to his chassis to his mouth where it smolders on his glossa like a curse. Red optics blazing, he tosses his helm back and roars, the way he did when some victories in the Pits meant only that he was still standing, still alive, until the scratch in his vocal processors confirms it.

After digging and clawing himself out of yet another Earthen grave, Megatron breaches the surface to find it is raining. He wastes no time, transforms and flies into the thunder-gray sky, where teardrops of rain slide forlorn and sleek against the silver of his alt mode until he breaks the troposphere, then the stratosphere, and leaves the rain, and you, behind.

~ * ~ * ~

[darling-i-read-it]

The Spencer Mansion

STARS Office Part 2 

Part 1 

Albert Wesker x fem!reader, Chris Redfield x fem!reader 

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: canon level violence, Wesker toeing the line of using the reader and being in love with her, Chris thinking the reader is dead, canon level injuries 

Tagging: you all mentioned wanting a part 2, I hope you don't mind that I tagged you! <3 @boywivlove @fanartcollectorwriter @chaotic-fangirl-blog

Author’s Note: A lot of people have suggested I do a part two to stars office and I always meant to but never got around to it! I hope that you guys like this. Id be open to a part three (and hopefully do it quicker this time around lol). Thinking for part three that I could do two endings, one for chris and one for wesker....

I also added this request to the plot : @zedonna , If not that, then maybe a possible scenario where Reader replaces Richard? Instead of Chris finding him and Rebecca, he sees reader with the snake bite (someone he is close to and harbor feelings for) But for extra angst, maybe chris doesnt find the serum in time and comes back only to find Rebecca has abandoned a now deceased Reader. ( Totally not what happened my first playthrough with Richard) Thank you, anything is appreciated!

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

The tension in the helicopter was poignant and undeniable. You wouldn’t be there for long but the emotions hung in the air like dreamcatchers, haunting and sticky. Wesker hadn’t said anything about Bravo Team and no one had asked him. You hadn’t personally heard a thing about Rebecca since she left the day before, or any of them for that matter. The air held onto the fear of the moment, not knowing what you were going into and not knowing if you would come back. It didn’t help that you were sitting across from Chris, who didn't want to make eye contact with you. 

You felt bad. You knew that you had slept with Wesker to get back at him but Albert was right. He hadn’t actually made a move. It wasn’t your duty to control Redfield’s emotions, especially not so close to the field. 

Jill was waiting for the right moment to ask you about it. The day before you had been best friends with Chris but now you were wearing the wrong shirt, clad with the hickies to match the rumors. Wesker hadn’t let up - why would he? What was everyone gonna do, tell the boss? He had an especially confident aura about him this morning. It was attractive. His jaw set and his disinterested eyes made him that much more alluring. 

You tried to avoid eye contact. 

“Bravo Team’s crashed helicopter is just below us. We’re going to land there and fan out in search for them. All contact has been lost and we don’t know what we’re going into,” Wesker announced, standing up and grabbing the railing above his head. “Think on your toes and don’t try to find each other if you get split up. We meet at the mansion if needed.” 

There were a couple curt nods. Chris pretended not to listen as he looked out the window at the helicopter crash. His face was laced with concern. He cared so genuinely about all those people. Your helicopter lowered, slowly. You held your gun tighter as you got up, preparing to exit. You remained in line as you left, landing eventually on the ground below. 

Jill moved forward to investigate. 

“Stay low Vickers,” Wesker said into his comm. His voice was robotic now. You barely recognized the man you had been with last night. You came up behind him, gun held up, a flashlight in your other hand. 

“Yes sir,” Brad responded. The joking manner in his voice left with the sun. It was now tension filled and dark, a low hanging fog creeping in around the eerie crash site. 

“I don’t see anyone,” Barry exclaimed, from a little further in another direction. Wesker opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by a growling noise coming from the crash. Everyone who heard turned their guns to face it. A dog emerged from the grass, teeth bared and slobbering. You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowed. How had a dog gotten all the way out into the middle of Raccoon Forest? You barely had time to think of solutions when it snapped, jumping forward. It went at Jill, who was closest. You moved forward to grab her arm and help her up, unable to distinguish the noises around you. 

Dogs were barking. More than one. You could hear people running, commotion happening. No one ever prepares you for the silence of the moment. There’s no background music to justify the violence. It’s just you and your thoughts, or lack thereof. 

The helicopter rose. 

Wesker yelled something, something at Brad in the helicopter. But he was leaving. You turned to try and find Albert but it was too dark. You and Jill ran in the direction of Barry, who you could make out. Chris was behind you in a second and then you had more companions than not. You were glad to be running the same way as them. 

You weren’t sure where you were going, or where this supposed abandoned mansion was. But you followed Jill’s stumbling direction regardless until you reached something that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. 

Barry and Chris opened the doors as you and Jill shot aimlessly into the dark, hoping to hit a target. You backed into the mansion and the doors shut. The silence was deafening. Heavy breathing and large open air but no longer any dogs. You breathed again. 

“Good, you made it.” You turned around to face Wesker who was standing in the middle of the room. He was breathing slightly heavy but it was nothing compared to the rest of you. 

“You take a shortcut or something?” Chris questioned, bitterly. 

“I told you to follow me after Vickers got spooked.” 

“Got spooked? Those were rabid dogs Wesker!” Jill pointed out. She peeked out one of the windows. Now that you were inside, you could take in your surroundings. You were in a grand hall, doors on either side and two staircases going to the level above you. The light on the chandelier was on. 

“I thought this place was abandoned,” you pointed out. 

“It was,” Wesker muttered. 

“We should probably investigate it then. See who else is here. It might be Bravo Team,” Jill offered. Wesker nodded curtly. 

“Well there’s no going out that way,” he said pointedly, gesturing to the front door. You could still hear the faint scratches of the dogs on the other side. 

“This place is huge. There’s gotta be another way out,” Barry offered. 

“Jill, Barry, you take the left door,” Wesker said. “Chris-” 

“I can go by myself,” Chris noted. He gestured to the right door. “Try to keep your hands off each other.” You knew he was just hurt but it didn’t wound you any less. 

“We really should try to stay together,” you offered. 

“Let him dig his own grave,” Wesker offered sharply. Chris could’ve been swayed before but now he was gone, going up the stairs. You huffed out. 

“We’ll meet back here in five, after looking around,” you said, looking at everyone. Chris waved his hand, Jill and Barry gave a disregarding nod. You opened up the door to the left and was greeted with a small room. There was a statue in the middle. 

“Fucking Vickers,” you muttered. You moved your hair out of your face and looked back at Wesker. “Did you know he was gonna do that?”

“Of course not,” he offered. He tried the door at the end of the room. It was locked. 

“You can shoot it.”

“And waste a bullet on a door?” He gave you a dumb look. His glasses covered his eyes, making it unable to get a read on him. There was a curtain on the other side of the door. You moved it aside. 

You raised your gun. 

“Are we gonna talk about it?” you questioned, turning the corner. 

“What is there to talk about?” He was following you. 

You side eyed him. 

“I told you, I don’t do it often. In the eye of danger, I give into impulses.” You refused to believe that was all it was. The way that he held your face…that couldn’t have been conjured up for looks. 

“Alright,” you grumbled. “And the way you acted towards Chris this morning?” 

“Will you focus?” You rolled your eyes and entered the side room. There was a man passed out on the ground. You rushed forward to him, leaning down, gun still at the ready. Wesker hung behind you. You reached at his neck to check for a pulse, unable to see his face. You got nothing. You looked up at Wesker, about to tell him the unknown man was dead, when the man moved. 

You jumped, scampering back. Wesker raised his gun. The man stood warily, unsteady on his feet. You crawled behind Wesker as he shot without so much as a warning. The noise echoed off the small hallway. Wesker shot the man three times but he still stood, unaffected. His mouth opened, drool coming from his face. He didn’t look…human. He looked like he was dead, like his pulse. 

One more gunshot from Wesker in the face took him out. He fell back down. Your eyes were wide, breath heaving. 

“Be careful. Things don’t like to stay dead around here.” You looked up at him, amazed or annoyed you couldn’t tell. He offered you and a hand and helped you up. 

“What the fuck was that Al?” 

“You know what it was.” You wanted to tell him you sure as hell did not know. You thought about Night of the Living Dead. You thought about Evil Dead. Wesker turned to leave, leaving you amazed in his wake. 

“Albert was that a zombie?” 

He didn’t answer you. You reopened the door to the main room. You were happy to be in a larger space but now every corner was menacing. What was lurking where you couldn't see? Jill and Barry came from the door across the hall. 

“There’s something there! A monster!” Jill exclaimed. You ran to her, out of habit. She was one of your best friends and her distress sent you into protection mode. Suddenly you wanted Chris back. You looked up to the stairs, searching for him. 

“We saw it too,” you said. 

“We have to separate and find a way out of here,” Barry explained. 

“This place is huge!” you argued. 

“Where’s Wesker?” Jill asked. You turned around. He was gone. Where had he gone? He came with you into the main room hadn’t he? You opened up the door again but he wasn’t there. 

“He was just…he was just here!” 

“Chris?!” Barry called up the stairs. You were scared. The fear petrified you in your spot. Where were they? You didn’t want Jill to leave your sight. You wanted to stay planted right next to her. 

“Oh God, what happened to Bravo Team?” Jill asked, breathing out hollowly. 

“You want to split up?” you spat at Barry. 

“Chris could be dead,” Jill muttered.

“We need to cover ground quickly. It just makes the most sense,” Barry promised. “You both of your weapons. You’re trained to deal with abnormal issues.” He stood in front of you and Jill. She was holding your elbow. “You won't be able to find them if you just stand here.” 

He directed it to both of you but it seemed like he was talking to you. 

“Wesker couldn’t have gone far,” you maintained. 

“Then go find him.” Jill looked like she wanted to future protest. She looked up at the stairs. 

“I’ll go for Chris,” she said, voice still wary. 

“We all come back here when we’ve found an exit. It’s the central part of the house.” You didn’t want to know more details. What if no one came back? What if you were stuck waiting for someone who had been a zombies dinner? Where was Chris? Was he okay? 

“Find him,” you told Jill. She nodded. “Stay safe,” you whispered. You didn’t want to leave but you forced yourself to move away. You had to go. You had to go. 

You opened the door again. Wesker must’ve gone back to this room. God knows why he didn’t just wait until you had all made a game plan. You refrained from calling his name, holding your gun tightly in your hands so the blood left them. 

The zombie in the corner was still down. You tried the locked door again. It opened, weak on the hinges. He must’ve broken through it. You took a step through, trying to breath through the nerves. He was around. He had to be. 

-

The mansion was like a maze, filled with puzzles and locked doors. You had a hard enough time finding out where you were, let alone where everyone else was. You were met with zombies and disregarded ammunition. The Bravo team was here. You weren’t sure if they were anymore. 

No sign of Wesker but even less sign of anyone else. You hadn’t seen Jill, Barry or Chris since you split up with them. At the confines of the mansion you felt like the problems of yesterday were far less important. 

That was, until you saw Chris rounding a corner. 

He held his gun up, prepared to shoot an oncoming zombie, but was just met with you. He let out a sigh of relief and it was like there was never any ill will. You rushed to each other, throwing your arms around his shoulders. 

“Chris oh God,” you muttered against his arm. You had never been so happy to see your friend. “I haven’t seen anyone in forever.” In reality it had likely only been an hour but that hour seemed like a lifetime. 

“I thought you were dead,” he exclaimed. “I saw Barry briefly, and Wesker.” 

“Where?” You still were unsure how Wesker had evaded your searching. He had only a couple minutes of a head start. 

“Upstairs somewhere. I lost Barry outside, when some…some of those things…” He shook his head. He grabbed your shoulders. “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m glad you’re okay too.” He nodded once. “I found a couple keys laying around. I don’t know what they go to.” He offered you some of the keys he had found. They had symbols on them. You had found one, a Spencer key. You pooled them together. 

“We should see if these lead to a way out. How did you get outside?” 

“Through some wall,” he explained. “I don’t know who made this place but they need to take another architecture class.” You nodded. 

“Listen, I’m sorry about Wesker. I was angry and he made a move and I felt bad.” He shook his head. 

“It isn’t the time.” 

“It could be the only time,” you explained. “I’m sorry Chris.” His face evened out into a genuine gaze. 

“It’s alright. I’m sorry too, for making such a big deal of it.” You nodded once. 

“It’s okay,” you promised. “We’re cool?”

“We’re cool,” he agreed. You tilted your head, gesturing down the hall. “Let’s go kill some zombies, Redfield.” 

-

“Hey, I got this key. There’s a door down the hall I wanna try,” you said. Chris was messing with the piano in one of the rooms. 

“How far down the hall?” 

“Across the main room.” He narrowed his eyes on you. “I’ll be fine.” 

“That’s far. You can’t wait?” 

“I’ll just be a second.” You and Chris hadn’t gotten far on your own. He couldn’t play the piano and you couldn’t read sheet music. You were at odds. You knew Jill could play and she had to be around here somewhere. He swallowed hard. 

“If you’re not back here in five minutes I’m dropping all of my progress.”

“Yes sir.” You saluted him half heartedly and left the room. You rushed down to the other side of the hall, trying at the door you had seen locked earlier. The door opened slowly. You were met with a zombie, who you shot in the face. Only afterwards did you check to see if the zombie had familiar features. This had been people. What if some had been your people? What if one of them was Jill and you didn’t know until it was too late?

You shuddered. 

“Y/N.” Your eyes went wide at the sight of Rebecca. 

“Rookie,” you breathed. “God Chambers, look at you.” She looked dirty and like she had gone through hell. She rushed up to you, glad to see a familiar face. 

“You’re the first friendly face I’ve seen in ages.” 

“Do you know where the rest of your team is?” 

“Most dead,” she admitted, regrettably. “I lost the others. I crossed paths with Richard but then lost him again.” She looked down at the key in your hand. “Can you try this door?” 

The words seemed normal.

 You opened the door, expecting a zombie.

 You were greeted with a snake. Giant, the size of a house. Things happened so quickly, things you weren’t even sure could happen. Rebecca shot and you vaguely thought about how Chris would come looking for you soon. You wished you hadn’t left him. But you had found Rebecca. 

The snake bit at you, scratching your arm. You were just narrowly able to stumble out the door when you fell down, feeling the effects of it immediately. Rebecca rushed towards you, barricading the door as best she could. You looked up at her, worry lacing your eyes. You were bit. You were dead. 

The door opened. Chris emerged.

You and Rebecca turned to him, breathing hard, bleeding in different places. 

“I should’ve never let you leave,” he muttered. 

“There was a room across the mansion that had some medicine bases,” Rebecca said, thinking quickly on her toes. Her words seemed too sharp. You couldn’t even feel the pain. It was starting to numb. You looked at Chris, frightened. 

“Where?” he asked. 

“It’s hard to explain. There are so many rooms.” 

“You have to go with her,” you said. “She’s a medic, not a soldier.” 

“She made it this far.” 

“We don’t have time to argue. Do you wanna save her or not?” Rebecca felt awful. She had suggested you open the door and she hadn’t been prepared for what she would find on the other side. Chris looked conflicted, eyes gazing back to you. 

“Go Chris.” 

He gave you a pack of ammo. 

“We’ll be five minutes,” he promised. 

“I’ll come looking if you’re any longer,” you said dryly. He smiled weakly and looked at Rebecca. 

“Lead the way.” 

-

The silence was deafening. It was just you and the house again. You and the house and the snake next door. You and the house and the snake and the zombies that lurked, haunting your every step. 

You were trying to be brave in the face of your adversaries but nothing seemed easy here. You regretted telling Chris to go. If you died from this, would you turn into one of those things? Would he have to find your body, still warm, knowing he was just barely too slow to save you? 

Every option seemed worse as time went on. 

When the door finally opened again, it wasn’t Chris or Rebecca. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

Wesker’s voice was condensing in a meek way. Still, you were glad to see him. You were glad to see anyone living at this point. You held your arm, eyes like daggers.

“Be careful. I might turn into a zombie here soon and then you’ll have to shoot me.”

“I don’t have moral dilemmas like that.” 

“So you’d shoot me?”

“In a heartbeat.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence Wesker.” You adjusted your seating against the wall. He walked up to you and leaned down beside you. He grabbed your hand gently, moving it aside. He took off his glasses to examine the wound. 

“Snake bite?” “Large snake. More like a scratch.” You were so used to his sunglasses that you took the moment to stare into his cloudy eyes. He glanced up at you, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“You’ll be fine,” he promised. He looked around in his tactical vest, searching for something. You watched with curious eyes. After a moment, he grabbed a vile. He put it against your arm wordlessly and injected you with it without warning. You winced, more at surprise than pain. He grabbed a bandage wrap out of his side. 

“You’re awfully prepared for the worst,” you observed. 

“I have to be. I’m the leader of this team.” He tied it shut, strengthening it with a knot. “Be more careful next time.” 

“Where did you go?” 

“When?” 

“When we got to the main hall with Barry and Jill. You just left.” 

“I thought I heard something. I went to investigate.” You didn’t believe that. He was close, sitting beside you now. You bite the inside of your mouth, still hazy from the snake bite or whatever he injected into you. Wesker didn’t mind your questions. In fact, he wanted to encourage them. You were smarter than the rest of the lot. He liked that you would always be just a single step behind him, rather than a whole staircase. 

“Okay,” you said finally. “Can you help me up? Rebecca and Chris went looking for something to help me with. They’ve been gone too long.” 

“You should know that there’s no use in trying to save all of them.”

“They’re my friends Albert.” He put a hand on your wrist, holding it gently. 

“They won’t all live. There’s no use in you dying with them. It would be a waste of a talent and the waste of a sacrifice.” 

“Who’s sacrificing themself?” 

“Anyone who dies here is sacrificing themself for one of us.” He wanted to tell you it was a controlled experiment. He didn’t. You would find out soon enough. 

“I don’t think I like that Wes,” you muttered. 

“You don’t have to like it to live it.” 

You felt more comfortable with Chris but you felt safer with Wesker. No harm would come to you while he was here. You grabbed his hand and held it for a moment. 

“We’ll all get out of this.” You let his hand go and reopened the door. 

He wanted to tell you no. Not everyone would make it out of this one. It was designed to kill some, to help others succeed. He knew you would be the latter. Even with the snake incident. 

-

You went the back way to find Chris. 

Five minutes after you left, he returned. He found a pool of your blood on the floor and he didn’t see you. His eyes went wide as he stood in the doorway, blocking Rebecca from being able to view it. 

“What? What Chris?” She tried to shove him aside. 

“She’s gone,” he breathed.

He tried to picture you as one of those…things. He tried to picture your eyes dead, your fingers peeling, your skin melting. He couldn’t. None of the mental images seemed to conjure, out of sheer fear. He could never kill you, even if you were already dead. 

“Maybe she went looking for us?”

“We’re too late.” 

“The snake bite doesn’t mean she’ll become one of the zombies.”

“It could. It’s the same thing, the same virus, isn’t it?” Rebecca had no sound argument against him. She knew as much as he did. 

“She couldn’t have gone far. She went looking for us,” Rebecca said again. Chris didn’t have the heart to argue with her. 

-

Wesker intended to lose you again but you were just so alluring, he couldn’t help himself from hanging around. He followed you around the mansion, he helped you kill the bioweapons, he ended the mystery of things that should have remained shrouded. 

He figured you wouldn’t see Chris again until you reached the laboratory. He would keep you till then, saving you from that moral dilemma. It would be far more interesting for you to make the decision when you were before Tyrant, when you saw Wesker’s true colors. When you would’ve died without him. Could you live with him? 

“Wesker come on,” your voice spoke, breaking him from his thoughts. “I think I found something.” 

He followed you like a lost dog. 

“Let me see.” 

Final Part !

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #57: Life Day 29ABY

I think I forgot to mention this, but Luke did send me a birthday note and one of his signature care packages. There was a mini bantha crochet plushie in it, which I named Mini-Ren.

I also have a feeling I know who made the plush.

Anyway, all that to say—I think he was trying to show that he wasn’t mad at me. And I don’t really understand why, but…I guess it’s a good thing.

Actually? Ever since Uncle Luke got in yesterday, he’s seemed kind of…depressed. And it’s weird being a grown-up, because I notice stuff like that now. I don’t think Rey has really picked up on it.

Still, I guess I’m on this council but not granted the rank of grown-up, because I overheard Mom talking to Dad in a hushed tone and I heard her mention Luke…but, when I tried to join the conversation, I got promptly kidzoned. By which I mean Mom abruptly turned to me and said “Hi, sweetie!” about an octave too high—which I knew roughly translated to “Access denied: you have not gained enough XP to unlock this conversation.”

Hm. The “your mother will permanently see you as the age you had your mental break at” phenomenon should really be studied, I think.

My cousin Lumpy (who goes by Waroo, now, but will always be Lumpy to us) brought his girlfriend home. Every year it’s a different girlfriend. And I’d make some joke about how he just can’t make ‘em stay, but…it would sound pretty ironic, coming from me, right about now.

Auntie Malla hate hate hates this girlfriend in particular, and for some reason I am her chosen confidante for these maternal judgments. Her fur is too short. Her claws are too manicured. She has not offered to help Auntie Malla in the kitchen even once, and Auntie Malla fears she will go bald if Lumpy marries this girl.

“Ya know, Auntie, with how many girls he’s brought home over the years, I don’t think Lumpy seems too interested in marriage,” I said.

Auntie Malla looked absolutely stunned—and then she said, well—Lumpy had better hurry up and propose to this girl, and if he ends up with a wife who doesn’t know her way around the kitchen, then—bah!—that’s his own punishment to bear.

I laughed and gave Auntie Malla an affectionate pat on the back.

Caught Mom and Dad in the den under the mistletoe when they thought no one was lookin’. About five years ago, I would’ve thrown something at them. But this time, I just chuckled and rolled my eyes.

Because…cheers to them, you know, for still being insane about each other, twenty-five years later. With double careers, a grown-up problem son, and an adopted teenage daughter. And still they’re suckin’ face.

I wonder how people manage to find something like that.

I closed the door on them. But—couldn’t resist calling out that I don’t want any more siblings, first.

Didn’t get the last laugh, though. Dad called back that I didn’t have to worry, ‘cause the swimmers ain’t swimming no more—and I think I oughta be entitled to financial compensation for having to hear my old man say something so unnecessary—even if I was asking for it.

Found Uncle Chewie and Uncle Luke out on the terrace. Chewie gave Luke a big hug, and then came inside as I was coming out.

“Hey, Ben,” Uncle Luke said warmly. As if everything was normal, between us.

“…Hi,” I said.

Luke said he’d heard about me and Fannie (from Fannie herself, probably), and that he was sorry about it, and he knew it must be hard.

I had my doubts about the sincerity of this statement, given he had made it sooo clear before that he thought we were better apart, but…what did any of that matter, now? I could tell he was trying to extend sympathy toward me, regardless of whatever he might thinking in the privacy of his own mind—and, you know…I found myself willing to accept that.

“Thanks,” I said.

I asked if he had spoken to Fannie recently, and he said he had. He asked if I had spoken to Amalia recently, and I said I had.

Funny, I said; maybe we oughta switch comms for a day, and then you could talk to Amalia for once, and I could talk to Fannie.

And I wasn’t expecting Luke to find that funny, but…he actually did.

Just a little.

Since we were able to break the tension, I…told him I was sorry about before. And I said more, too, but…since I already went through all of that once, you’ll have to forgive me for not going through it all again here.

I asked Luke if he was doin’ okay. And he said…oh, yeah, fine. But…I could tell there was more he wasn’t saying.

I paused, and then I asked him if he was ever gonna take a break from the school. Like—a sabbatical, or something. Since he runs it all on his own.

He said he couldn’t. Because he runs it all on his own.

I told him, well then—he should just run away and go into exile and become a hermit on a hidden island, somewhere.

And I wasn’t expecting him to find that funny.

But, he did.

Just a little.

…Or, maybe, even a little bit more.

Interesting, I thought. And I tried to press a little more, but I didn’t really get anywhere.

Hm, I thought to myself. Well. I’ll be seein’ this guy 52 times next year. I’ll get to the bottom of this or else.

But, I didn’t say that part out loud.

What I did say was, “Happy Life Day, Uncle Luke.”

And, “Happy Life Day, Ben Solo,” is what he said back.

And—“Happy Life Day, my dudes” is what I’ve got to say to you.

Cheers to the year ahead, friends.

—Ben