#and then i remembered that he had other injuries

[moody-alcoholic]

Literally obsessed with poly 141 x reader. Part 2

141 are called to the hospital after you’re picked up by paramedics after a drunken work party. 

Heed the warnings.

CW: dead dove don't eat, alleged assault, alleged sexual assault, alleged non-con drugging, hurt/comfort, medial stuff, description of injuries.

---

John is your emergency contact. He’s the captain, the leader, he can take charge and make sure everyone does their job. You were still confused, heaving into a bag as the paramedic was asking about who to call.

It was a work party, you only had a few drinks. You’re not sure what happened, you were talking with a coworker. The next thing you know there are strangers around, you’re outside down an alley, the cold London air making you shiver. 

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” The female paramedic asks. Your head is swimming, your body is sore. You have no idea where you are or what happened. Panic rises in your chest, you look up at her. She has kind eyes. 

“I don’t know.” You slur. Your body feels heavy. The adrenaline that was pumping through your system is wearing off. 

You don’t remember what happens next, all you hear is the screeching noise of sirens. 

—-----------------

John’s heart is racing in his chest. Johnny and Kyle are sitting in silence in the back seats of the car they all rushed into after the call. John looks over at Simon, his knuckles turning white as he grips the steering wheel. 

“Park up, we’ll meet you inside.” John says as Simon pulls into the parking garage. He stops the car and everyone but Simon gets out heading into the hospital’s A&E entrance. Price makes a b-line for the front desk. Johnny and Kyle follow as he asks for you and what room you’re in.

The nurse has barely finished telling him when he’s nodding and making his way through the doors to the main ward. It doesn’t take him long to find your bay. He pulls the curtain back looking at you curled up in the bed. 

Your face is raw, your left eye is red and swollen, your neck bruised. The stunning red dress you left the house in torn, exposing your skin littered with marks. His stomach turns, he can see in your eyes you’re out of it. Reaching out for Johnny as he comes over to you.  

You hardly register them coming in, your head still swimming as you turn to look at them. Familiar hands touch your skin. Johnny’s fingers coming to your face, brushing hair behind your ears.

“Hi.” You say smiling up at him.  

“Hey lass, what’ve you been up to then?” He asks as Kyle comes over to the other side of the bed lacing his fingers with yours. 

Silent glances are shared around the room. John’s presence is unavoidable, he stands at the end of the bed, his arms crossed as Johnny and Kyle fuss over you. 

A nurse comes into the room. John turns to talk to her, she explains what they’ve done so far. Your injuries are consistent with sexual assault, date rape. The police will be here soon. 

The words from the nurse's mouth seem to change the energy in the room. It’s like a rehearsed dance they’ve been practicing for. Maybe it’s the fact they're military and used to working under pressure, or maybe it’s just the fact it’s you, laid in a hospital bed. 

John immediately takes up the role of leader-captain-in an instant. Johnny stays by your side holding your hand caressing your face, telling you not to worry. His kind eyes and warm smile distracts you from the commotion going on in your room. 

John’s voice is low as he gives out orders. Kyle is incharge of intel gathering coming over to talk to you, rubbing your arm letting Johnny comfort you as he asks you simple questions. You don’t remember much but you enjoy his touch.

When Simon comes in the mood shifts. 

You watch as he comes over to you. Johnny steps back letting him cup your cheek, his eyes scan your face, pulling your chin up to look at him. His eyes are hard, his lips pressed together. He kisses your forehead before moving back to the end of the bed. 

Johnny is back with his smile and soft touches as he brushes your face careful to avoid the sensitive areas. You’re sleepy, your eyes drooping as you relax into bed. 

“Tired?” Johnny asks, pulling the sheets over you. You nod before turning your head to look over the end of the bed. Simon's eyes are still on you as John talks. You’re not listening to what they’re saying. Kyle moves over, his attention turns to John. 

“What are they doing?” You ask, your words still slurred.

“Don’t worry ‘bout them love. They’ve got work to do.” You watch as Simon pulls a mask up over his nose before he and Kyle leave the room. 

You look over at Johnny smiling. John walks over resting his hand on your leg. 

“You’re okay lass, we’re here now.” He says his thumb brushing your cheek as your eyes fall closed.

----

Someone stop me...

Part 2

[weekendviking]

Whoh, yeah. Historical pastimes get historical injuries.

*I stepped in a vat of caustic lye for soap making with animal fat when I was 5, that burned the surface skin off my foot.

*My older brother, who's a film armourer, gunsmith and reenactor, is missing part of a finger on one hand due to an altercation with the gun trail of a 77mm Krupp fieldgun from 1896.

*I know what it feels like to have an 1888 pattern bayonet grate on one's teeth after passing through my cheek. (The Dr congratulated us on our field medicine, quote 'I don't need to even add any sutures, this is probably not even going to leave a scar' (it didn't))

*Started getting trench foot once, but as a roadie setting up a music festival rather than a reenactment for once, but mostly wearing various milsurplus kit, again, unable to dry one's feet out after a solid couple of weeks, and my feet started swelling and the skin began to delaminate, but I remembered my WW1 vet grandfather's advice 'When it's wet, Boy, Grease your feet!' and applied my fat based boot dubbin directly to my feet, and it solved the problem (basically multiple days wet de-fats your skin oils and then you get runaway osmosis and delamination and then infection in the feet...)

*One forgets that safety glasses apply to pre modern tools as well - left the safety glasses with the chainsaws we'd been using earlier to fell the trees for a cruck beam hovel, and I had a split second of insanity when I thought 'The wedge for this treenail for the ridge beam is too long, I'll just cut a couple of inches off the end' and my second thoughts were saying 'hey, that's crossgrained, the chip's gonna bounce' but my sideaxe was already moving. You get acid to mescaline grade colours as your retina gets overpressure damage from the bleeding. Remarkably I kept the eye, and even most of the vision in it, but the macula is spattered with blindspots and I have to wear a permanent eyepatch with diffraction grid as the iris is paralysed and most light levels are too bright, and the diffraction grid/pinhole camera effect is the only way it can focus beyond the end of my arm now. But the eyepatch makes it two lines above the eye test line where they stop it being legal to drive if it's my only eye (think about that, because I do have a spare, but that means there are people out there driving with only one eye as badly damaged as mine.) Also every week I make small children believe in pirates, which is an okay side benefit but not worth part blinding an eye.

*Had a guy doing a WW1 French Poilu proudly show up to a reenactment showing off his new purchase of a near perfect mint condition WW1 waterbottle appropriate to the kit he needed, which he then proceeded to ostentatiously fill and drink from during the battle reenactments at the air show we were at. He then proceeded to get a mint condtion case of WW1 Dysentery, as he'd neglected to sterilise and clean said waterbottle (why using originals is a fraught concern, not just because of their rarity and antique value!).

*Have another friend who has a really gravelly battle field officers voice, and a scar that goes 3/4 of the way around his neck under the chin and up the side of his ear, because he was in an ECW reenactment with the Sealed Knot and Unbeknownst to a guy on the opposing regiment, his blank firing matchlock had accidentally been loaded because the wee brass washer on the end of the ramrod had fallen off, and thus blew through my mate's neck, severing one carotid artery. He went down gushing blood and would have died had not the the woman beside him been an ambulance officer and the man on the other side of him was a Gulf War vet medic.

*Jousters. There's no way to make two horses, both carrying armoured humans with long wooden spears, moving at 30kmh, safe. Enough said.

*Had the school nurse back in the seventies, who was unflappable and in her eighties at the time, regularly do 'Just test the whole little country school for various metrics to generate useful data' and she was doing hearing tests. After the testing she came back to the school had the principal call my parents to come in, and she sat down my Mum and Dad and said 'Ok, Your children are fine, but they all show a gap in their hearing ranges that I've only seen before in combat soldiers'....

You know you've fucked up when you go to a doctor and the thing you have wrong with you has been named after an occupation that isn't a thing anymore. Like imagine a doctor looking at you and going "yeah you've got ox-drawn ploughman's disease. We don't even test for that anymore. Yeah the reason you've never heard of it is because the last known case was in 1927 and happened to some guy who was like 98 years old and didn't believe in modern medicine of the time. What the fuck have you been up to."

[captainjimothy]

i am always thinking about trans brunt. if i start with a ferengi female--humiliated from birth, treated as less than an object--and i add transgenderism, and i sell that character to a husband while he's still in his teens, well, it's entirely possible that he kills his husband and steals his identity and burns his house down. or some other horrible accident, you know, it happens. so he claws his way into true success, obtaining a very powerful position, and he reaches his middle age with everything he's ever wanted and the scars to prove it.

he knows firsthand how cruel men can be to other men. he knows that his life is in constant jeopardy, because if someone needed blackmail material, it's all right there in the medical records. the only thing keeping him alive is the bribe he forks over to his doctor every month, and his ability to perform ferengi masculinity to the very letter at every moment of every day.

and then that character meets quark. a cis man, with a truly disgraceful set of family members: his father had no head for business, his mother is leading the women's rights movement, his brother used to be his sister and has married a non-ferengi on terms of equality and started a labor union with her, and his brother's son, now a damned starfleet cadet, was a daughter first. oh brunt, you remember that. you remember the brothers leaving ferenginar as fugitives with the child between them, setting up inside an active cardassian military base to protect themselves from men like you.

and it worked. they're fine. they're happy, even. they don't care about the rules anymore, the rules that would descend on you like a thousand hells if you put a toenail out of line.

quark, as the cis brother, is the only one you are at all capable of dealing with, but even this is infuriating. he may still profess to follow ferengi custom, but it's with very little genuine effort, and the end result is shamelessly, flagrantly disrespectful of every rule that hangs over your own head as a death sentence. yet he faces no consequences outside of his self-imposed exile, and even curries favor with ZEK, who has decided to FUCK HIS MOM.

and just to add insult to injury, you cannot ignore the fact that you desperately want to fuck him, which makes you feel like a girl even while you degrade him in your mind for being a faggot.

like. god. OF COURSE he's obsessed with shutting the bar down OF COURSE he can't stop coming back just to irritate quark OF COURSE he wants to buy quark's desiccated remains and would happily kill quark himself if needed.

[keferon]

Chapter 2 of Blurr storyline >:D

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head is all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Part one

Holy shit I actually managed to finish it…..Oh. My god.

Under the cut⤵️

Is it stupid to miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Probably yes, but hey, Swerve already has several degrees, might as well get another one. A degree in Stupidity or something. Who cares?

For the first few days after waking up from his coma, he feels like he's going crazy. Everybody has realistic dreams, right? The ones where you can scrutinize every angle, memorize every face and smell and sound. The ones that make you lie still for a while after waking up, grasping at every thing you can. Trying to memorize everyone you meet, imprint them in your head.

Because apart from your mind, they don't exist anywhere else. So that's your only way to keep them.

It never works. Obviously. Details slip away. Impressions fade. Just a couple days, and you won't be able to recall anything but the main events from memory.

Wait, hell, not days. Cycles.

His life is a weird, pathetic, fantastical circus. Earth term. Heh. There are no circuses on Cybertron, haha!

But Swerve remembers. And the word circus, and the smell of asphalt, and rains that were made of water not acid. Remembers the English language. Can speak it fluently, even if you wake him up in the middle of the night.

Remembers his work schedule and remembers which company makes the best details. And Tailgate with his bright blue uniform and Wheeljack with his endless experiments and Swindle with his expensive coat and of course...yeah, no, don't think of Blurr, don't think of Blurr, don't. Don't.

He'd heard about it. Read about it, too. Mechs waking up from comas and doing wild things. Some forgot how to speak at all, some gained a new skill, some lived a whole life while they slept.

Articles tell Swerve, don't worry, what you've experienced isn't unique. The doctor tells Swerve that the same thing has happened to others before you, it will be okay, it will pass.

Swerve isn't sure he wants it to pass.

He's been in a coma for who knows how long. The medic said it was caused by an internal trauma that decided to suddenly get worse. One minute he's recharging , the next he's gone. Internal injuries are insidious.

So it turns out. One day he just disappeared from the world because he was busy slowly dying in his room and no one noticed until a thief tried to sneak in. The only one who came to him was a Mech who wanted to steal his stuff. Huh.

That feels revolting. Swerve liked to think he had enough friends. Or at least enough good connections. Enough those who should have noticed his absence, right?

Apparently not. His shifts at work were reassigned, his contacts never texted him first, his...

His small persona wasn't important enough for anyone to notice his disappearance.

Would his human coworkers notice? Would Tailgate have noticed? Or Jazz? Swindle?

Jazz would have noticed, he was always surprisingly attentive when it came to his friends. And he was friends with just about everybody.

Swindle would probably get upset about the money he'd lost.

It's amazing how much his brain-- wait, no, his processor. How much his processor could create to entertain him. It's a more elaborate world than the most complex series Swerve has ever known. And that scrap had forty-six seasons and fifteen encyclopedias!

People, Earth, a bunch of new languages and rules and all for the sake of the end being like, OOPS! ...it was all a dream. Hilarious. Worst plot twist ever. Swerve hates it when stories go in this direction even more than when they kill off their characters.

In his humble opinion, death is better than the revelation that none of the experiences made sense or had any value. In terms of writing scripts obviously. Haha.

He's busy roaming haphazardly through his own memory. He's looking, comparing, trying to find inconsistencies or things that don't make sense. All the stuff that usually gives away the fact that what happened was a dream.

Most of his memories are occupied by--No. Frag.

Don't think about Blurr, don't think about Blurr, don't think..

He's thinking about Blurr. A lot.

Blurr occupies a surprisingly important role in his comatose dreams.

In the time he spent just looking at him, you could hand-build an entire Mech. Maybe even three. Swerve remembers picking up every bit of merch he could reach with his paycheck. Watching hundreds of videos and buying every new themed drink even if it was a flavor he didn't like.

Then spent a surprising amount of time resenting Blurr for not living up to his fantasies.

Blurr's behavior hadn't helped either, of course, but now, looking back at the past himself Swerve thinks that.. Oh wow. You weren't just annoyed at him. You blamed him for ruining your beautiful fantasy. You were having so much fun entertaining yourself with thoughts of this marvelous image, and he came along and corrupted it. Poisoned the well you drank joy from.

But that's not quite true, Swerve thinks.

Blurr was more complicated than that. But exactly how, he'll never know. All he has are his memories, and those memories are cut short at the most interesting point.

Swerve knows this plot twist. The asshole character that no one loves at the last second turns out to not be what everyone thought, but it's too late.

Oh no, he's not an evil jerk, he's actually traumatized. Oh no, he wasn't bad, he was actually secretly helping everyone. You thought he was awful? Well now you're going to feel awful reading fanfics.

Serevus Spayne didn't actually betray the main character's dad, no no, he was in love with him! Bam. Drama.

Swerve isn't a big fan of this stuff. He likes his characters developed properly. But he can't deny the appeal of a character leaving behind a bunch of questions you thought you knew the answer to.

Uggh.

The doctor was wrong. These thoughts don't go away. These memories don't dull.

Swerve just boils in them, constantly getting stuck in his own head. Sometimes he puts English words into his speech and everyone looks at him strangely. Sometimes he reflexively says some inside joke and no one gets it and he's left standing there with an awkward smile. Because. Guys, you don't understand, if my coworkers were here they'd think it's hilarious. I promise, in my fantasy world, it's funny.

When he gets a job on one of the Autobot ships, he accepts it thinking it might be a good distraction from his thoughts.

When he happens to see Prowl with a tiny human on his shoulder in the corridor of that ship, he thinks he's lost his mind.

The whole thing. The whole load-bearing structure on which his picture of the world has been held suddenly gives a lurch. Living your life in a super realistic dream is wild, but meeting a character from your dream in real life??

Freaking cursed.

Jazz looks puzzled by his reaction, but all Swerve can think about are two things.

One, if Jazz is here, does that mean everything else was real, too???

Two - holy shit, Jazz is tiny.

It never occurred to him. But he didn't really know what size humans were. Well, sure, he could measure it in numbers. But he was among humans himself. And about the same size. He was generally even shorter than most of them.

If Jazz is so small, he can't imagine how tiny Tailgate would be. Or--

He can feel his spark freeze. In fact, he can almost hear the sound of a string breaking in his processor. Does that mean Blurr is real too? Real and just as tiny and currently dead? Because Swerve was there but was too convinced it was all just a dream to help?

He's going to get sick.

He needs to talk to Jazz right now.

____________

Swerve taps his fingers nervously on the countertop. Come on. You're good at talking. Talking is your greatest skill. All you have to do is tell someone else about your comatose hallucinations and hope they don't think you're crazy.

They're sitting at a table at the bar. More specifically Swerve and Prowl are sitting at the table, and Jazz is sitting right on the table. (God he's so small).

“So uh. I got injured a while back and...uh...well, it got worse, turned out important systems were affected and I kind of. I was in a coma. For a really long time.”

Jazz frowns

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

He speaks in a mildly wonky Common, Swerve notes to himself. He waves his servo a little too cheerfully in response.

“'Ay it's no big deal really. I saw a whole other world while I was asleep and like. See, I thought it was just my fantasies, but it seemed very real and...”

Swerve mentally crosses his fingers.

“And it was about this planet called Earth and about people who were building their own inanimate huge robots to fight huge aliens and their boss wanted to launch Mechs into space, so he picked the best of the pilots named Jazz and sent him on this test mission and...”

Jazz looks at him with huge eyes before switching to English in surprise.

“Mech, what the hell?”

“...And we lost him...” finishes Swerve with a sad smile.

Before thinking for a bit, and adding.

“I'm going to show you a trick I can do.”

And then projects his holoform onto the table in front of him.

This. It's weird. Not in a way that would tilt it in the direction of unnatural. More like walking around in his comfy indoor pajamas right in the middle of the street. Being human is familiar to him, but being human amongst huge Cybertronians? Strange. And a little creepy.

Prowl looks confused.

Jazz looks absolutely frantic.

“SWERVE????”

Swerve doesn't even manage to respond, only to smile in relief before Jazz rakes him into his arms. In his holoform, Jazz feels right again. He's taller than Swerve and oh boy, he's alive and unharmed. To think everyone thought he was dead, staying up nights trying to find what was left of him, and he was on the other side of the universe the whole time?

Swerve chuckles into Jazz's shoulder. Then picks him up and spins him around a couple times just because he needs something to get his energy out. Man, it's nice to hug people. Warm and soft, eight out of ten.

Jazz pulls away but still stays standing very close. Swerve can literally see the happy stars in his eyes.

“Dude, I'm not complaining but what...how???? You just kinda..."

Swerve laughs and twitches his eyebrows playfully.

“I still speak English, you don't have to torture yourself with Common.”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jazz throws his hands up dramatically “you're my favorite person right now.”

There is a polite click of the vocalizer resetting above their heads.

“I” Prowl says “very glad you two are happy but I'd like some explanation”

Swerve presses his head into his shoulders guiltily. Prowl has the unique ability to always sound like you've done something wrong in front of him.

Although Jazz doesn't seem to feel the same way?

“Short version - I sleepwalked my holoform to another planet.”

He pauses dramatically.

“The long version is...”

Jazz raises his hand

“What's a holoform?”

Swerve sighs.

“It's a holographic avatar that I can project using a holomatter generator. Sort of like a remote controlled game character.”

Jazz whistles impressed. And then immediately turns back to Prowl

“Have you been able to do that all this time too?“

Prowl hums

“I can create an avatar, but it takes a lot of practice to make it at least believable. And to fully perceive the world through it takes even more. It's a whole new technology. What Swerve does is essentially an art form. Sophisticated and impressively detailed may I add.”

Swerve shrugs shyly. He's still using the holoform to stand on the table next to Jazz. Looking up to speak to Prowl isn't exactly comfortable, but Jazz definitely looks like he's been missing the human presence. Swerve isn't human, but he might as well be.

“Thank you. Yes! Uh. Anyway, it seems while I was in a coma my processor projected my avatar onto Earth and I...let's just say I lived there for a while.”

Jazz laughs

“Dude. So you're telling me you were basically sleepwalking the whole time?”

“ I was.”

Prowl frowns.

“But the range limit of the holomatter generator is only four hundred miles...”

“.... I had a lot of practice...”

Jazz claps his hands.

“You learned a whole other language! Got an ID!. You had a job!!!”

“I got carried away,” Swerve admits.

Jazz scratches the back of his head, still looking very amused

“How many degrees did you get? Haha wait no, I have a better question, did you pass your driver's license?”

“Two. And I failed my driver's exam.”

“Dude you are literally a car without a driver's license!” collapses Jazz on the table with laughter.

Swerve blows the hair out of his face

“Says you who retook the physical several times. You couldn't pass the "being human" exam.”

Jazz just wheezes incoherently in response. Prowl looks alarmed.

“Don't worry, that's him getting excited. So...where have I been...”

Swerve nervously shoves his hands into his pockets

“...Do either of you two know where Earth is?”

Prowl twitches his door wings

“No. Since Jazz was teleported we don't have much clues.”

Swerve grimaces. Scrap. Of course nothing's going to be that easy. He's also been, like,....teleported.

He stands there for a couple minutes and just feels fifteen different emotions rise up in his head at once. A crooked, unsteady smile creeps across his face.

He's thinking.

Oh hell, yeah! I knew it wasn't a dream!

Then he remembers the mess he left behind.

Oh, no, it wasn't a dream.

Jazz puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Swer... Swerve? Dude, are you okay?”

“Ah frag..” Swerve says weakly ”it wasn't a dream.”

Jazz looks...puzzled.

“Is that bad?”

Swerve remembers his friends. Remembers the Mecha program. Remembers fire and smoke and screams and rumbling and crackling flames. Ashes flying through the air and the smell of burnt wires. He remembers blood and debris and...

“It's...complicated.”

This wasn't just a stupid plot twist he'd dreamed up because he'd watched too many shows. This wasn't a hallucination or a disembodied fantasy that just happened to linger in his head. This was real. His friends exist out there somewhere. His work and his collections and his little apartment...

And Blurr. Was real. Or still is? Swerve doesn't know. Blurr wasn't a product of his imagination. He was real and what he did was real and Swerve left him there alone, bleeding and trapped in rubble and tiny and...

Hahahahah oh fUCK.

He doesn't like this plot. It's too much. Too much to handle, too complicated, too ambiguous.

It's also probably too late.

But he can't leave it like this, right? Blurr went into the damn burning building just because of the possibility that there might be someone alive in there.

And Swerve doesn't even have to go through the flames. He has to look. He has to try at least.

Jazz glares at him with a worried look on his face

“ That expression you have...”

Swerve puts the smile back on his face.

“I need to get to Earth.”

___________________

Swerve is not an idiot.

Or maybe more accurately an idiot, but with several degrees.

He's well aware that finding Earth in space with only a description of it is impossible. Which leaves him with two options.

Ask the Quintessons. Or look for it himself.

The first sounds like death. The second like coma. Swerve has exquisite enough taste to know which is better.

He just needs to do some preliminary reserch.....

Jazz, now back inside his Mech looks doubtful.

“You're not going to die suddenly and for no reason, are you?”

Swerve laughs.

“Pfffff what, no of course not, would I kill myself hah. No no, look I'll just put myself in stasis for a bit. Send myself to Earth. And try to figure out where it is from there. Get the coordinates. If I'm lucky, I can see what Space Bridge the local Quintessons use. All you'll have to do is wake me up after a while.”

“It's not harmful?”

Swerve makes an uncertain gesture with his hand...servo.

“If I have enough fuel. And an additional connection to an external generator.”

Jazz tilts his head

“ Why are you so eager to get to Earth? Don't get me wrong, I miss it too and want to go back, but.”

Swerve bites his knuckles.

“ I have some unfinished business?”

“Pshhhh you sound like a ghost.”

Swerve only laughs in response.

_______________

Concentration is tricky.

Swerve tries to think about Earth. And not to think about the fact that he doesn't know where it is. If he's already been there once, he might as well go there again yes? In theory? Perhaps?

Except for the possibility that his sleepwalking just takes him to random planets. That would be very inconvenient. It would be a whole new level of lost

Shit. No. Earth. Think Earth.

What's he even gonna do when he gets there? How far away is it? Swerve is very talented with his holomatter generator, but if it's really far away... maybe he should reset some settings.

He mentally starts going through his options. Does he need tangibility? Probably not. Come to think of it, it would only make him more vulnerable and take a lot of energy. Yeah, the tangibility has to go. What else? Touch, too. Sight and hearing should stay, that's not even a question, but colors and textures are not really necessary.

The amount of detail and picture quality can be reduced as well. His holoform will become colorless and grainy and will probably ripple with static, but he'll survive it.

After he finishes making changes to his holoform he thinks about his old stuff left in his house. Then about the posters. Then reminds himself that he needs to focus on the goal or he'll never find Blurr and...oh FUCK his phone! Where was his phone when he disappeared? Was it found?? There were so many personal things on that phone, he's hoping the phone was burned under the rubble. Either that or the arriving investigators will find his browser history and he'll go into another coma from pure embarrassment.

He blinks dazedly when he realizes he has loads of rocks in front of his eyes. Oh..Did he screw up? Did he end up on the wrong planet? Is it a cave or--

Then he notices the odd shape of the “rocks” and. Oh, no. It's not a cave. It's charred concrete debris.

This is the place where he was last.

He hastily looks around. Anxiety creeps up the back of his neck, makes him feel like something slippery and cold is crawling over his skin. There is nothing but ruins all around.

Blurr is not here. The place where his Mech was lying is empty.

Which means he was at least found and dragged out. Dead or alive.

Swerve's bites his knuckles. Okay.

All right.

He's got things to do.

_______________

He's trying to stay out of sight. Which isn't hard, considering he's just a hologram. At first, he just sneaks around in the quiet areas. Then proceeds to do a facepalm and start teleporting. Think, Swerve. Did you read all those comic books for nothing? Superheroes who couldn't really use their superpowers creatively always annoyed him. And he does, in fact, have a superpower. Gotta get creative, right?

He stops and looks at himself again. His holoform is going static and is a dull white color. He thinks for a bit, and then shrinks himself. Thinks some more, and makes himself almost transparent. There's no way he could pass as a normal human right now, so he'd better just do his best to avoid being seen by anyone.

He looks around thoughtfully. Hmm. Even if he's going to be absolutely tiny, he needs to make sure no one sees him, otherwise the whole base will think the Quintessons are now spying on them through holograms or something.

Breaking the rules feels...it's exciting.

All his ..human life here he hadn't thought about it, but if he threw away the rules he was used to about what people could or couldn't do...

He looks up in a sudden rush of sly genius. All people look under their feet when they walk, but how many look up? And how many of them notice the barely visible tiny holoform hiding just behind the blinding lamps?

The answer is probably none.

Swerve projects himself onto the ceiling and mentally pats himself on the shoulder for his impressive intellectual accomplishments. A creativity degree should definitely be a thing.

A degree in spying on the Quintessons' ships wouldn't hurt him either.

Fortunately sneaking onto their ship turns out not to be that difficult. Swerve makes himself absurdly tiny and hides in the darkest corners that no one would ever think to look into. Why hasn't anyone thought of using holoforms for spying before? Could he be the first to think of it? He doesn't know, but he mentally decides to patent the idea.

Finding the Space Bridge is surprisingly easy. The local Quintesson fleet is clearly used to being the dominant force in space. And that's generally logical. Even if humanity collects a mountain of money from somewhere to throw a dozen Mechs into space - there will be thousands of monsters waiting for them. In such a situation, you don't have to hide, the guards are enough.

Well done, well done, don't hide, Swerve thinks, copying the coordinates and address of the space bridge to himself. You have absolutely nothing to fear here, he thinks, so stay where you are and don't move. Please and thank you.

Once the coordinates are obtained, he... has some freedom to explore. And he uses it for probably the most boring-sounding thing in the world. He returns to his usual workplace.

It’s simple. As damning as the Mecha program was, Swerve loved his job in it. He loved his position in the assembly shop. And he missed his friends.

He quickly teleports through several rooms, continuing to hide close to the lamps. Tailgate is here. Alive and unharmed. Wheeljack is too, though his face has some scars added to it. It's great to see them again, even if he can't talk to them right now. No one will probably react well to a grainy unexplainable hologram. He's just glad to know they're okay and honestly, the last thing he needs is paranoid Onslaught installing extra signal jammers.

It takes time to find Blurr. Partly because Swerve is terrified of what he might find if he started looking. So he goes to check the death lists first, and only after flipping through and re-reading them three times does he finally exhale in relief.

Blurr's name isn't there.

So his smug, shiny ass must be around here somewhere.

He checks the hangar. Flips through the Mech launch logs and feels an uncomfortable knot begin to form in his chest. Blurr's Mech has never been repaired or launched even once since the incident. Its plating has been replaced with new, well polished, and put in a prominent place where anyone who wants to can take a picture of it. But all the internal systems are destroyed. This machine hasn't been used for anything other than being a beautiful exhibit.

That's...something's wrong.

He checks offices and schedules as well as eavesdropping on a few conversations and ends up secretly following Swindle, who is arguing loudly with someone on the phone. He says something about deals and how he doesn't need anyone meddling in his business. Then he talks about how he's got everything under control and the person on the phone is “a dumbass who's making drama out of nothing” and that “he doesn't need anyone's handouts". Then he sighs and says, “you know how celebs are. Dumb and dramatic. You can't take their words literally.”

Then drops the call and for a couple seconds looks like he's just had a large bill taken right out of his hand. Curses again, but in a quieter voice. Leafs through his contacts and stops at the one signed 'free ice'.

“Blurr? Where are you? Wha...ah, no wait. No, the advertising agency called. No, liste...Can you shut up for one second?Where are you?

Uh-huh....... Uh-huh.Okay.

Give me half an hour...okay, yeah.”

This is it, Swerve thinks.

He shrinks himself further and teleports under the collar of Swindle's coat.

He wants to take a look. Just. Just a peek. Make sure everything's all right. Then he can go about his original mission in peace. He watches Swindle get in his car and drive off somewhere. Swerve doesn't recognize this part of town. The houses here are much nicer than where he lived. The streets are cleaner.

He tucks himself further under the coat collar. He's not going to be a stalker or anything, but he's worried and he doesn't have time to wait for Blurr himself to show up for work. Just one little look and that's it.

Swindle's car stops outside a beautiful, shiny hospital. Swerve nervously tries to bite his knuckles, but remembers he's disabled touch in his holoform. Shit? Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shi

Blurr looks like a mangled corpse.

Okay, not really. His left side that faces the door to the hospital room looks like a mangled corpse and that's the first thing that catches Swerve's eye when he's inside.

Blurr is pale and thin and his hands are covered in bandages. The left side of his face has been turned into an absolute ugly nightmare. A piece of his ear is missing. In the place of the left eye is a creepy empty hole.

Suddenly Swerve realizes why Blurr didn't show up for work. You can't even show him to his coworkers like that, not just to the public.

Blurr turns his head and the spell breaks. His lips stretch into a cocky smile.

“'Got bored without me Swindle?”

Swindle doesn't show the slightest emotion at the gruesome sight. He casually pulls a chair over to the hospital bed and sits down.

“Shockwave is trying to sneak a new project into the program. And he's slowly swaying investors to his side, using you as an excuse. Tells everyone you're a poor martyr he can save if only he's given the green light from above.”

Blurr wrinkles his nose.

“Not that he's wrong. The doctors say I need to pick a new career because with this...” he jerks his head to the left implying his damaged half, ” neither racing nor piloting is an option for me anymore. I'm out of your project.”

Then he stops talking for a few seconds and raises an eyebrow curiously.

“You wouldn't have come here in person just to say that. Why are you really here?”

Swindle adjusts his glasses

“Have I ever told you why I made the contract with you?”

“Because you like money” Blurr says without hesitation.

Swindle lets out a quiet chuckle.

“Fair point. But money wasn't my only priority.”

He pauses for a second. Gets up. Draws the curtains in the room. Checks to make sure no one is outside the door.

Goes back to his seat.

“You didn't see what the Mecha project was like before. Brutality and absolute disregard for human rights multiplied by a thousand. People were desperate and no one cared to maintain any decency.”

He raises his hand when Blurr rushes to say something.

“No no, listen to me. If you think things are bad now, you're right. But it used to be much. Much, much worse.”

Swindle sighs and adjusts his glasses again

“Vortex was taken as a boy. He wasn't even out of high school when they shoved him into the lab. Me and Onslaught were pulled right out of the college exams. The others were no better, although they were usually a little older. My point is that it was allowed. It's what the superiors could do and no one told them no.”

Blurr tilts his head and gets a little all turned around to see Swindle better with his right eye.

“But you... found a way to change that, didn't you?

Swindle rubs the bridge of his nose

“I have no power over my own superiors. But Onslaught and I have come up with a plan. Look. I'll put it in simple terms for you. Above me is my boss, and above him is another boss, and so on but at the very end of that chain are people from the government. The investors. So we figured out a way to cut through the chain of command and influence them directly. Make them worry about us. It's a kind of social shield. Onslaught is a genius.”

Blurr blinks.

“Why are you telling me all this.”

Swindle takes off his hat and just. Crumples it in his hands. The back of his head shows numerous scars and the glint of tiny metal implants barely visible behind his hair.

“You're that shield right now, Blurr. You can't leave.”

Blurr's eye widens

“Is that why you insisted on ‘befriending’ me with all those bullshitters?”

“I needed to make sure that in their minds we weren't just a military unit. To keep them thinking that we're as human as they are. So I gave Project Mecha a face.” He tugs on the hat again, “Your face.”

Blurr runs his fingers through his hair

“Shockwave can't do whatever he wants cause...because of me his efforts would risk going public and people wouldn't like it and it would ruin the reputation of our investors-and-they'd-cut-off-his-funding.”

Swindle puts his hat back on.

“Exactly.’ That's why he's being so persistent right now. He knows you're vulnerable and he wants to capitalize on the opportunity. Make you part of his new project and tell the world about it. Make publicity his weapon, too.”

The lamp above them flickers faintly. Blurr takes a breath. Long and tired and exhausted and. a bit doomed.

Swindle puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Please. Don't leave. At least not now. And don't let Shockwave get to you. That would open the way for him to get to the rest of the pilots you represent.”

They just. Sit in silence for a while. Blurr quickly taps a finger on his knee. A rapid tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap-tap.

Swindle moves his hand away and gets up from his chair.

“There's a press conference coming up. I need you to be there. I've told everyone who needs to know that the problem is exaggerated and you're fine but they need to see you.”

Blurr smiles sourly.

“My lawyer is going to charge you such a handsome sum for that stunt.”

Swindle laughs, but his cardboard advertising smile doesn't reach his eyes.

“We’ll see about that. Seriously though. I need you there.”

Blurr bites his lip.

“I..don’t know...”

Swerve...doesn't know what to think of that.

Blurr shows up for the press conference. Late, but he makes it. Just as Shockwave is presenting his new project in his amazingly well-pitched voice. Blurr swings the door open and waltzes lazily inside, skillfully pretending not to notice the many cameras and eyes instantly directed at him.

Swerve, whose memory is still fresh thinks for a second that no, no this can't be the same person. Past Blurr looked like a wreck. Past Blurr was tense and tired and hunched over. Present Blurr couldn't look more alive. His shoulders are squared proudly, there's that cheerful springiness and grace in his stride. He moves with ease and confidence. Smoothly.

The left side of his face is neatly covered with fresh white bandages. Carefully, without leaving the even the slightest gap through which his injury could be seen. His hands are hidden under a fancy jacket. He smiles wide and bright and squints playfully toward the table.

The very embodiment of nonchalance. The few pilots sitting in the audience roll their eyes.

Swindle breathes out a barely perceptible sigh of relief. Swerve, once again using Swindle's collar as a tactical cover, can't help but let out a silent triumphant laugh. Maybe slightly more nervous than he is supposed to be.

Blurr sends Swindle a sly, sharp smile and even knowing it wasn't meant for him, Swerve feels his cheeks heat up.

Ah, damn it.

Swerve breaks the rules. He tells himself that peeking is fraught with consequences when it comes to military organizations, but he can't stop himself from being curious. And from worry, too.

And now that he knows where to look, he sees things he'd rather not see.

Blurr ... is crumbling.

Swerve doesn't know all the details and consequences, but that incident did leave a mark.

But every time Swindle calls him and says “I need you at some place in two hours” he gets up and assembles himself into a human being. Like a goddamn puzzle. Tapes and covers the burned half of his face. Covers up the bruises and hides the stitches. Fixes his hair and sets off on shaky legs to pretend he's fine.

He smiles so bright and carefree, laughs so sweet and beautiful that no one would ever think that even standing up sometimes hurts.

And continues to act like a jerk of course.

The only difference is that this time Swerve mentally gives him the presumption of innocence before he starts judging.

Blurr does a lot of things that seem rude. He also does a lot of things that are actually rude and figuring them out without resorting to alien superpowers would be nearly impossible.

When the pilots see Blurr sitting right on the table while negotiating with investors, they roll their eyes and make comments about his terrible manners. Or when he stops showing up for even the most basic, rudimentary training.

Or when he develops that stupid habit of leaning his elbows on people standing next to him.

It's the model behavior of a rich, spoiled brat.

It's also an inconspicuous way to stay upright.

Employees say “that dumbass has never heard of personal space.”

Investors say, “I think he likes me.”

Blurr leans on Swindle's shoulder and through a charming smile says “Don't move or I'm gonna fall.”

Swindle also keeping up the smile discreetly holds him back, pretending it's a friendly half hug.

Swerve feels like yelling at both of them, but he's not sure what for exactly. For one thing, Blurr in his condition is very VERY VERY contraindicated to even get out of bed, let alone participate in social activities.

On the other hand, without Blurr, everything is going down the pit.

Without Blurr, all the government sees are dry reports and spreadsheets. Without him, all the high command has is numbers and a sense of impunity. Swerve is sickened by how easily people tend to forget that numbers represent other people.

Most pilots are able to draw a parallel between deteriorating working conditions and Blurr's sudden fondness for staying home instead of working. But they think the rich jerk got scared and ran away. Considering the way Blurr has always behaved at work - Swerve can't even judge them too much for it. They assume Shockwave getting more freedom is the cause of Blurr's absence, not the result.

Blurr's influence only becomes noticeable when it slowly starts to fade away. It's like switching from expensive tea to a cheaper one. The awful flavor only becomes noticeable in contrast.

Blurr doesn't lead the development of new technologies or go out to fight in the field. He doesn't make plans and reports, he doesn't participate in drills, he doesn't cover anyone's back in battle.

But he's the one who puts his hand on the government's shoulders when they're about to sign the next piece of paper. He's the one they have to look in the eye before they have a pen in their hands and a document authorizing Shockwave to stick more needles in people's brains.

It makes a difference. Small one. But still.

It turns a disembodied imaginary “combat units” into a tangible person.

From “do you want to accelerate the combat training of new soldiers” to “are you willing to tell the living, breathing guy standing in front of you that shoving poison under his skin is an idea you approve of.”

More importantly (And Swerve actually admires Swindle for this) Will you be able to explain anything to your families later on, when this same guy is on TV all over the country saying that's what you did to him?

There have been two fronts here all this time, Swerve realizes.

While the pilots were protecting people from monsters wearing teeth and armor, Blurr was protecting the pilots themselves from monsters wearing ties and lab coats.

After another conference, Shockwave stops Blurr in the hallway.

“Good show.”

Blurr laughs. Soundly and proudly.

“Thanks darling~ Sorry I interrupted you. Your speech sounded like something important, but I don't really know much about nerd stuff.”

Swerve, hiding on the ceiling again, snorts.

Shockwave doesn't move. Doesn't give any indication at all if he's offended or upset or whatever.

“It must have been hard getting here with your injuries.”

Blurr shrugs and lazily turns his head around distracted.

“It's just a few bruises here and there. Not the end of the world.”

Shockwave nods slowly. His voice and posture and all, Swerve thinks, looking very uncomfortable.

“Of course it isn't. But hardly good for your career.”

Blurr freezes.

No, Swerve thinks. Shit. No, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't listen to him, don't

“Your brilliant achievements have always been a source of admiration to me” continues Shockwave “it would be a pity to lose them.”

Blurr makes an indifferent face and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“Like I said. Not the end of the world.”

Swerve imagines choking Shockwave. Dropping a lamp on his head. Maybe jumping on top of him himself. Shut up, he thinks. Shut up, shut up, stop fucking talking.

Shockwave with a nice, slow gesture pulls out a notebook from somewhere and flips a couple pages.

“Multiple burns, cracked ribs, poisoning from carbon monoxide and combustion products of toxic chemicals...”

Blurr visibly shivers and looks away.

“...loss of vision on one side...” Shockwave continues reading, ”and partial hearing loss. Finally, the impact of neural link malfunctions. And this, if I'm not mistaken, is on top of the already existing memory problems?”

Shockwave takes a step closer. Not fast enough to make it look threatening, but enough to hover.

“It may not be the end of the world, but it is the end of you.”

He writes a set of numbers on the same page, tears it off, and hands it to Blurr.

“You are broken. I can fix you.”

Blurr frowns, but takes the piece of paper.

“That fixing would involve giving you consent to mess around with my head, wouldn't it? It's brave of you to think I'd go for that.”

Shockwave tucks the notepad into his pocket.

“I can assure you, neither I nor anyone else is interested in your brain. I just want to give you back what you're truly valued for.”

Blurr flinches.

“I don't need your help.”

“ If you say so,” Shockwave agrees easily. Nods, slowly and smoothly. Then starts to walk away “But you do need your fame.”

...

“By the way, you might want to wipe the blood off.”

Blurr waits until Shockwave's back disappears around the corner, then quickly pulls a tissue from his pocket and brings it up to his nose.

____________________________

Swerve wakes up looking up at the ceiling of his room. The high, metal ceiling, of a metal room on a metal spaceship.

Holy shit...

Jazz pokes him gently on the forearm

“Are you alive? You've been gone for like quite a while...Did it work?”

“Hey Jazz” frowns Swerve “what do you know about Blurr?”

Jazz laughs

“What are you fanboying over him again? Still??? Dude's smug and arrogant. Good boss though. I was hired to perform at his parties before I became a pilot.”

Swerve sits up and rubs the back of his head.

“Ah...”

“So it worked?”

“Wha...ah! Yes! Yes, it worked! I managed to get the number and codes from the space bridge the Quints used on you. We just need to find another space bridge and we'll have a pretty much direct route to Earth...well. Or rather, to the Quint ship that's located near Earth. You get the idea.”

Jazz rubs his hands together happily.

“I'll take it.”

Swerve jumps to the floor and heads to grab an energon cube. Man, these holoform exercises are burning energy like crazy.

He stares at his metal hands like an idiot for a couple minutes. Just...Contemplates how non-human they are.

He has eight fingers again instead of the human ten. Huh.

Prowl downloads the information he's gotten and immediately runs off to plan a route to the nearest working space bridge and for a while Swerve is just.

Left to himself.

He tries not to think about Blurr. What would he even say to him? Hey, look, I'm sorry I accidentally set you up, see, I'm actually an alien who was sleepwalking and thought you were fictional, surely this won't affect our non-existent strictly professional working relationship? Nah, screw that. If he's going to sound crazy, he needs to at least come up with a good presentation for his insanity.

....

Is it weird to think humans are beautiful if you're not human? If you're kind of human, but only in your soul and only half human?

He looks at Jazz and Prowl.

“You two get along really well.”

Jazz chuckles, sitting on Prowl's shoulder.

“Right now, yes. But we got on each other's nerves quite a bit when we first met.”

Swerve looks up at Jazz's chattering legs from his height and thinks. This is working somehow.

On the other hand, Jazz is the exception rather than the rule. He's friendly with everyone, he's easy to get along with, he's the soul of any company and most importantly, he was a little too much into robots before he discovered they could be alive. If anyone could find common ground with the Cybertronians, it would definitely be Jazz.

_____________________

”Are you a ghost?”

Swerve shrieks in fear and gets covered in static. He hadn't planned on talking. He hadn't planned on being noticed at all. Blurr was supposed to be asleep! And Swerve just wanted to close the curtains and leave, because there's some noisy party going on outside and bright illuminations are very bad for a patient already suffering from neural connection withdrawal.

He freezes in place like that dude from Jurassic Park. Like if he's still enough, he won't be noticed. Oh, or was that from another movie?

“I'm just uh” he awkwardly reaches up and closes the curtains “Lights. Bad for...you...now.”

Blurr chuckles. It sounds suspiciously joyful. His whole posture and facial expression. He looks very relaxed for someone who had a ghost materialize into the room out of thin air.

Swerve traces the line of the IV with his gaze in concentration. Oops, that looks like painkillers.

“Yes I am. Uh. A ghost watching the curtains. And now the curtains are fine, so I guess I'd better go?”

Blurr snorts and squints amusedly.

“You can walk through walls?”

“Uh, I can teleport into the next room?”

He backs up his words by making himself disappear and reappear in another corner of the room.

“Cool!” says Blurr cheerfully.

Swerve is involuntarily infected by his mood and makes a couple dramatic bows as if he were some kind of magician.

“ Show me more?”

“Hehehe okay eh” Swerve spreads his arms like he's presenting something and then makes himself the size of a soda bottle and teleports to the edge of Blurr's bed “Ta daaaa~”

“Wooooo look at you, you're like an action figure~”

Blurr immediately makes an attempt to touch him, but fails to reach and drops his hand back on the blanket.

Swerve chuckles and steps closer. It's funny to see the usually incredibly agile Blurr struggling with something so simple and ridiculous.

“They really drugged you huh?”

“It's not the drugs” snorts Blurr ”...it's my eye.”

He raises his hand once more and hesitantly pulls it towards Swerve until it bumps into his hair

“... depths Per…percen.. ah, shit. I can't tell how far away things are.”

Swerve just. Lets Blurr fidget at himself, while starting to feel really bad at the same time.

"If you can't tell how far things are, how are you going to drive?

Race???”

He must have a plan right? Something? Let’s-prove-Shockwave-wrong tactic???

Blurr drops his hands back on the blanket and snorts

“I won't.”

He freezes when the all too close fireworks rumble outside the window. Then points to his head.

“With this. I can't drive, I can barely walk at all, and I look like horror movie material. Pathetic heeh.”

Swerve sits down quietly cross-legged on the blanket.

“Well...at least you're alive....”

Blurr shakes his head.

“If I had died, it would have been epic. You know? Dharm...dramatic! It would be big news and everyone would be talking about what a hero I was or...or something...”

“...”

“Swindle would be so angry, but he'd figure out a way to make money out of it. He'd make a commercial about how people should be heroes. I'd be remn..remembered for being cool and brave and stuff.”

Fireworks can be heard from the street again. Swerve notices that there is a thin slit between the closed curtains through which a slim, flickering strip of multicolored light streams into the room.

Blurr frowns and leans back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.

“I've turned into a boring wreck. My records will be beaten, my career forgotten , and all the guys from work will remember me as a brat. In a--in a--in a way, it's worse than death. Shockwave's right.”

Swerve isn't sure what exactly would be an acceptable gesture of comfort, so he kind of just. Places his hand on the blanket covering Blurr's lap.

“Hey, don't say that. I think what you're doing is great.”

“Liar” smiles Blurr crookedly ”You hated me. I saw your posters collection.”

Oh shit. The ones he ripped off the walls and destroyed in a fit of fan frustration? He didn't even hide them, just shoved them in the back corner. Aw, man...

Swerve folds his arms awkwardly across his chest.

“I can be mad at you and think you're cool at the same time. I'm a multitasker.”

“You're a very specific kind of ghost.” says Blurr. Then, apparently inspired by the painkillers, decides to drop the conversational equivalent of an atomic bomb on Swerve's head “You died because of me?”

Swerve stiffens.

“I...Wwhat?”

“You know.” he makes a gesture with his hand that's ..unclear what it's supposed to mean. “You were working there with everyone else, and then there was that fire and I was sure I saw you down there under the rubble.”

He's silent for a couple seconds before he hesitantly continues

“And then no one could find you so most assumed you either burned or ran away. And now you're here with all your weird ghost stuff, so you must be dead.”

Swerve has.No idea what to think about it. And what to say? He's been so busy blaming himself for Blurr getting hurt that it hasn't occurred to him to think about what it looks like from Blurr's own perspective.

“Actually” says Swerve ”I'm an alien.”

“Heh” giggles Blurr ”sorry, my head’s all cloudy, I thought you said you were an alien.”

Swerve wants to run around and bang his head against the wall.

Instead, he gets up from the hospital bed. Carefully.

“You're high. I'm not going to explain things to you while you're high, you won't understand or remember them. Go back to sleep. It's the middle of the night.”

“You'll tell me later?”

Swerve hums quietly and pulls the curtains all the way closed.

“If future, sober Blurr would want my company.”

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

Jazz looks at him. Very intensely.

“Are you going to tell me who this mystery person you keep coming back to Earth for?”

Swerve snorts.

“What makes you think it's anyone in particular?”

“You're right, you're right~” raises his hands in surrender Jazz “So are you going to tell your friend the whole thing?”

Swerve crosses his ..metal arms over his metal chest.

“Is it that big of a deal? He thinks I'm a ghost or something.”

Being a ghost...somehow better, he thinks. If you're a ghost, it kind of automatically implies you're human. Or was a human.

“Sooner or later, he'll put the facts together~” says Jazz in a chant.

Swerve laughs.

“That's unlikely. He's got a pretty bad memory.”

_______________

His plans to stay out of anyone's sight combust with a dramatic pop the next time he projects himself to Earth. He doesn't plan to interfere, he doesn't even plan to linger. He just wants to see what's going on.

He actually just quietly sneaks into the hospital to make sure nothing's happened to Blurr since last time, but when he finally finds him then...oh shit, is that Pharma in the same room with him??? This can't be good.

They don't speak, but Pharma has clearly locked his eyes on Blurr and starts making his way towards him with the relentlessness of a industrial metal press.

Swerve does some rough math in his head. If he briefly gives his holoform back its detail and voice, will that be enough to fry his processor? He's not sure.

Pharma gives a believable impression of a shark getting close. The staff, as if sensing something untoward is about to happen, leaves the room in a hurry.

Blurr looks indifferent, but Swerve's attention is drawn to the way he squints tensely. Man, the lamps are too bright in here.

Pharma smiles sweetly and reaches out for a handshake

“Mind some company?”

Swerve's mental processes fly out the window. Oh no no. Not Pharma. Not in his fucking fanfic. He quickly changes his work clothes into a slightly more business-like looking shirt. Thinks for just a moment and adds a cap to his head to blend in more strongly with the attendants and hide his face to an extent. And then projects himself around the nearest unoccupied corner and runs out of behind it looking as anxious as he feels.

“Blurr!!! Sir, there you are!!! I've been looking everywhere for you!”

Pharma wants to say something, but Swerve doesn't even let him start. He stands in front of Blurr separating him and Farma expressively waves his hands trying to keep his head down.

“The guys you were talking about didn't bring the new hydraulics! It's a disaster, we'll have to use the one on the old models!”

Blurr, to his surprise, backs up his act almost instantly

“Really? But I thought there was nothing to take from the old models?”

“That's exactly the point! I got the paperwork this morning and...oh those assholes are going to screw it up if you don't step in as soon as possible!”

Pharma tilts his head

“Can it wait? We were actually talking here!”

Oh no, thinks Swerve I'll show you who's talking.

“Sir, no offense but this is a matter of extreme urgency. Are you implying that the safety of your patients is not important?”

“What do you mea...”

“Old faulty hydraulics, that's what you want?” raises an eyebrow in horror Blurr.

“No I'm just...”

“I had a better opinion of you, to be honest.”

“I...” opens his mouth Pharma “...WHAT...?”

Swerve shakes his head.

“And I thought his profession was to help people, can you imagine?”

“Wh..”

Blurr rolls his eye.

“Any idiot can get an important position these days.”

“Wait..”

“Tell me about it. Especially doctors.”

Pharma looks like he's about to start pulling the hair out of his head.

“Can at least one of you shut up??”

Swerve adjusts his cap in a businesslike manner

“Sir, I understand you're a bit detached from reality spending so much time in your department, but you need to take better care of your reputation.”

He raises his eyebrows knowingly

“Wouldn't want the rumors about you to turn out to be true. You know what I mean?”

Pharma doesn't even answer anymore. Pharma just looks like a discarded fish.

“…..Wha....there's rumors?”

“Of course” shrugs Swerve ”Ask Norman, he usually knows everything about everyone. And about your interesting tricks with safety, too.”

He leans in conspiratorially, effectively pulling all of Farma's attention to himself

“So if I were you, I'd stay out of any more things you don't understand.”

Pharma wants to say something. Swerve can tell by the look in his eyes. Pharma tries to come up with a witty and context-appropriate response, but this whole conversation has no more context than a typical episode of Teletubbies.

“Where does this Norman guy work?” finally finds the ground beneath his feet Pharma

Swerve shrugs.

“Block C, if he hasn't been transferred yet. He's already been fined several times for spreading harmful information you know? The guy can't keep a secret.”

Pharma throws his hands up angrily and storms away. Probably looking for context. Or revenge.

A quiet cough sounds behind Swerve's back.

“So. Should I be worried about Norman's health?”

Swerve feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up and slowly turns to face Blurr while still looking somewhere on the floor.

“Uh...only if you're concerned about the fate of fictional characters. I made up Norman's wife, she'll be upset if he gets fired for gossiping.”

Blurr chuckles. Then goes silent. Then, after a couple seconds, starts laughing again. That's a good look for him, Swerve thinks. It's not like Blurr's usual velvet-smooth laugh that he uses at social events. It's more like a quick, jerky giggle, and in Swerve's subjective opinion, it's pretty damn cute. He can't help but grin.

Blurr snorts one last time, cutting off the laughter.

Then he reaches out his hand to him.

Swerve reaches back, expecting a handshake, but Blurr ignores his hand and instead goes for his cap and lifts it by the brim.

Swerve, not expecting this, freezes with his hand outstretched.

Blurr freezes as well, still holding his cap in his hand and looking...like he's rethinking his life. A little.

Ugh, and how to explain it all to him....

“Uh...you...uh...probably don't remember me. I...it's...”

Blurr shifts his gaze from Swerve to the cap in his hand. Then back to Swerve.

“You're real???”

Swerve awkwardly waves his hands in front of him

“Ah not.., not really. Do you know why Pharma was looking for you in the first place? He doesn't work with patients anymore, he's been reassigned to the research department, right?”

Blurr shrugs.

“Last time I saw him, he said I might have implant rejection in the third ..uh..what? stage? or something? I think he's trying to get me in for a checkup.”

Swerve twitches.

“Third??? How are you still standing???”

He then quickly reaches up with both hands to Blurr's head and tilts it so he can see his face better. Using one thumb, he pulls his lower eyelid slightly and mentally catalogs. Temperature normal, pupil normal, eyes are steady, no darkening or trace of blood on the eyelid. Implants? He puts both palms up and gently feels the places behind Blurr's ears. No signs of rejection or malfunction.

“No no no” sighs Swerve ”You're fine, it's only stage two. I mean, second sucks too, migraines and all, but you just need to rest and no bright lights and...” he finally notices his hands are still on Blurr's head and pulls them back as fast as if he's been burned ”I MEAN I'm uh...sorry, I didn't mean to, I...”

Blurr laughs quietly.

“I'm glad you're back.”

_____________________

He wakes up in his quarters and can feel his face burning.

When he goes out to get the energon, Jazz throws him a look.

“Is something wrong? You're all kinda...shaky.”

“Hhhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuu” imitates signs of life Swerve “Say, doesn't it bother you that Prowl isn't human?”

Jazz smiles

“ Oh, I went crazy when I found out. But we figured it out.”

“Like...on a scale from ‘bad grade in school’ to ‘an asteroid is coming to Earth’ how crazy was it?”

“Worried about what your human friends will think?”

Swerve swings back and forth on his heels

“Pfffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff. Whatnooooo, no of course not. I'd be worried if I planned on telling them at all.”

Jazz frowns

“No offense, but keeping secrets isn't your strong suit.”

“Haha” Swerve waves his servo “ Watch me.”

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Xavier: Seasonal Moods | SFW

I've been feeling really off the past few days with a swirl of negative, self deprecating emotions, and decided to attempt to cheer myself up by writing some comfort. The newest event with Xavier really drove home the point to me that he would be the best at helping his depressed partner.

I know I'm probably not the only one who feels like this, and with winter being here I know a lot of us with year round depression if getting hit a bit harder than normal, so if this is you, I hope you can find a little comfort with this fic. Remember you're loved and cherished and the voices in your head feeding you all these negative thoughts are lying to you.

Anyways, I didn't proof read this as I didn't have the energy so I apologize for typos.

❧ Pairings: Xavier x Reader ❧ Warnings: Depressed Reader, Non Sexual Intimacy, Non Sexual Nudity ❧ Synopsis: Sometimes seasons make sad moods worse, but sometimes people in your life can help make it a little better. ❧ Word Count: 2.2k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Xavier

Seasonal Moods

You were feeling…some sort of way. It wasn’t a particularly good feeling in you, in fact you’d say it was rather the opposite of good. You felt dreadful, and for no reason other than it was winter. You had less sunlight, colder weather, and with that sometimes came a certain melancholic sadness that washed over you. You just felt…horrible.

Whenever you saw your friends together it felt more like they were almost ignoring you, even Tara seemed more distant from you. You knew logically it was all in your head, that these things weren’t happening, but it didn’t make you feel any better. It was like you were looking at every outing through a glass, you were there but there was something separating you from all the others.

You felt like you couldn’t reach out even if you wanted to. When everyone was having fun it felt like you bringing anything up would ruin the atmosphere. So you began distancing yourself as much as possible. Putting your phone on silent and saying you were asleep or busy when questioned why you didn’t answer, claiming you had something going on when invited out, the whole works. If you were forced to reply in message threads, it was easy enough to have some self confidence and fire at least. As long as you didn’t come face to face with others, most thought you were doing just fine. It did work, for the most part.

There was just one person who didn’t buy the facade.

Xavier.

How he always managed to know when something was slightly off with your mood was a quality in him you both admired and hated. He was your hunting partner, your neighbor, your friend, and possibly something more, but you two hadn’t had that discussion yet. You probably had just spent so much time together in the past few months he was able to easily tell when you were acting different. It shouldn't have surprised you, not with how observant he always seemed to be when it came to you.

You just wished he didn’t care so much, that he couldn’t tell you were depressed. That way you could easily distance yourself from him like you did with everyone else until you worked out your own thoughts and emotions. Sure it might’ve taken all winter to begin feeling better, but at least he didn’t have to see you like this.

He had made a surprise visit while you were in your bed, scrolling through funny videos in an attempt to distract yourself from your thoughts. You had managed to slip up at work and gotten a very minor injury, but it was enough to force you to take a few days off. You hated that more than anything. At least at work it kept you busy so you didn’t have time to deal with your emotions. When you were at home by yourself it seemed to only amplify the darker thoughts in your head.

“Hey,” his soft voice had startled you at first and you flinched, locking your phone and putting it against your chest. You closed your eyes, hoping he hadn’t seen you were awake on your phone. You were laying on your side, facing away from the door to your bedroom, so there was a…low chance.

Then you felt the bed dipping as he sat down, and you felt his hand threading through your hair so gently you leaned into it, “There we are, you are awake after all.” He said, the laugh he had was a little airy and you finally glanced at him. He was wearing his signature white hoodie at the moment and his hair was a little disheveled as if he just woke up a few minutes ago, “How are you feeling?”

“My side hurts, but other than that it’s fine. I can sleep it off.” You quickly said, slowly leaning away from his hand and placing your head back on the pillow.

“Have you already changed the bandages?”

“Yes.”

“Have you eaten today.”

Silence filled the air as you thought about that. You didn’t even know what time it was, let alone if you hadn’t eaten. The days were melding together, so you weren’t sure. You could see the sun was setting beyond the horizon…or perhaps it was just coming up. You had been doing nothing but bed rotting the past few days, sleeping on and off, and only getting up when you needed to use the restroom or when you realized how dry your throat was. When was the last time you even showered?

“I’ll take that as a no.” He said with another laugh, but this time it was less enthusiastic, “How about I go make you something real fast.”

This had you grabbing his wrist quickly, stopping him in his tracks, “What are you planning on making?” while Xavier had slowly gotten better at cooking foods, using things like the oven or stove top was still a hit or miss situation.

“It’s a bit chilly today so how about some ramen?” he suggested. Xavier could see the way your shoulders seemed to sag in relief at his suggestion. You weren’t particularly hungry, but you knew food would probably be good.

“That sounds good to me.”

“Alright, wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Xavier ran his hands through your hair again, scratching at your scalp and you wanted to flinch away. It was probably oily and gross and you didn’t want him to feel it.

You felt the bed shift again as he got up and the door closed behind him, leaving you alone again. You stared at the wall in silence, wondering if maybe you should get up and tell him he can go home, that you were capable of taking care of yourself right now. It would be a lie, sure, but you didn’t want him fretting over you. You didn’t deserve his attention when you were the one who dug this self deprecating hole yourself.

You didn’t have the energy though, and instead just laid there and waited for him to come back. Once again you didn’t know how much time had passed, it could’ve been hours or even seconds, it all felt relatively the same to you. The door opened back and you could smell the savory ramen, he had made one of your favorite flavors…again he was far too observant. The bed dipped and you heard items being placed on the nightstand next to you.

“Come on, let me help you sit up.” Xavier said, slowly lifting your body into a sitting up position. You felt him grabbing pillows to help prop you up in the bed and you sighed when the warm ramen was placed in your hands alongside chopsticks, “Eat up, I’m sure you’re starving without even realizing it.” He said. You glanced back at him, noticing how he was eating as well, blowing on the steaming noodles before taking a bite.

You followed the motions, noticing that, for some odd reason, the food tasted a little better than usual. The moment you took the first bite it was like your body kick started and you realized you were pretty damn hungry. You two ate in silence side by side on your bed, and by the time you finished you were being handed a nice cool glass of water to sip on. He let you just be for the time being, not saying anything but just being there. He helped clean up the empty containers and when he came back to the room he was shifting you again, picking you up.

Your hands found purchase around his shoulders, “Xavier, what are you doing?” you quickly ask, not understanding why you were suddenly being carried somewhere.

“To the shower.” It was simple enough of a statement, but you felt a wash of shame overtaking you. So he had noticed, of course he did.

You gave a strained laugh, “I must smell pretty bad if you’re dragging me to the shower…sorry about that.” You murmured, trying to make light of the situation.

“You don’t smell bad,” He quickly stated, “and even if you did, I don’t mind.” The door to the bathroom opened and he placed you on top of the counter, “I just realized you probably hadn’t had the energy to do it, so I’m helping.”

Your face felt a bit hotter now as you avoided him, “I’m not that injured.” You muttered under your breath.

“It’s not the injury I’m worried about.” Xavier was already working your clothes off, tossing the fabrics you’d been wearing for days off to the laundry basket you kept in the bathroom. It was almost overflowing with clothes at this point, and while you wanted to be embarrassed being stripped bare in front of him, his eyes weren’t focused on your body. He was more focused on taking care of you, which you didn’t know if it made you feel better or worse.

“Then why are you fussing over me so much if it’s not because of the injury?” you finally asked, watching as he went to turn the shower on to a warm temperature.

He began taking his own clothes off as he answered you, “You haven’t been yourself lately. Tara had even come up to me and asked if you were alright. I was going to wait a bit and see if you’d reach out, but I can’t wait too long when I knew you were here by yourself.” He explained, “You haven’t answered my messages like normal, and any time I try to make plans you say your busy, I got worried.”

His words were earnest and made you feel even worse about yourself. Congratulations to you, you’ve managed to make the sweetest man you knew feel bad and worry over nothing.

“I’m sorry…” it was all you could say as he began dragging you into the shower. His hands were already working on getting your hair wet so he could properly wash it for you. He didn’t know your entire hair routine, but at the very least your scalp would be clean. Anything else could be taken care of when you felt better.

“Don’t apologize.” He said, his words a bit sterner, “I’m not upset with you. You’re allowed to reach out whenever you want, or not at all. It won’t change the fact that I care about you and wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explained.

“If I hadn’t been so distant though, you wouldn’t be so worried.” You explained, “It’s my fault.”

“Is it also your fault that your brain decided to make you sad for no reason?”

“Yes.”

“No, it isn’t.” He said, rinsing out shampoo from your hair and putting in some conditioner, “It’s not. Sometimes things just happen. I wanted to be here for you, it’s as simple as that. I’ll continue being here for you as well, whether your sad or happy, and that’s of my own free will. You have nothing to apologize for, besides, I like being able to take care of you like this. I wish it were under better circumstances, but that’s no fault of yours.” He explained.

You didn’t know what to say, honestly, so you didn’t say anything at all. Instead you just let him wash you, and then you were being wrapped up in a fluffy towel and dried. The hoodie he had some in was placed over you, the smell of him taking over your senses. He put on the blue shirt he always wore underneath it and finished getting you two dressed. He went back to carrying you, but instead of going to your bedroom, he carried you out into your living room.

There were a lot of things you expected, but seeing a giant blanket fort with fairy lights, the TV on with a movie already prepared, and some soothing smells coming from an oil diffuser that you were certain you didn’t own…it hadn’t been what you expected.

He placed you down onto the soft blankets and you noticed a box of mini cupcakes next to you, all of them having cute designs in an assortment of flavors, “Tara bought those for you,” Xavier said, “She said when you’re feeling better she wants to take you to this new bakery that opened up, that’s where those came from.”

“I should message her soon.”

“I’m sure she’d appreciate hearing from you, but for now.” You felt Xavier getting into the fort with you, pulling you against his chest as he started an older movie. It had cartoon characters and you recognized it as one of your favorites growing up. You were certain you had only spoke of it once with him, but of course he remembered, “Let’s just relax for the rest of the night, okay?” he said.

“Ya…I  like the sound of that.” You got out. You still felt a bit numb, still felt off. It did make you feel better though, especially when you saw some lights from his evol, a little bunny he made, bouncing around. It was enough to make you genuinely smile for the first time in a while. Perhaps…being taken care of wasn’t so bad.

[senditcolton]

youthfully felt

I need to be youthfully felt 'cause god I've never felt young

summary: Sidney Crosby is simply… tired. Of everything. That's how he found himself at a seedy dive bar, drinking his misery away. Then enters Jade Watkins. She offers an escape from the scrutiny, the pressure, the fear, and soon Sidney finds himself falling for the girl who saved him just in time. But does he truly love her? Or does he just love the way she makes him feel? a/n: This fic was originally written as a reader insert for the Winter Fic Exchange two years ago. But I thought the story would work as an OC fic. The original is still on my blog so you can pick your own adventure so to speak. Not much has changed plot-wise but I think I might love this one more. Feel free to read this one and the original and see how you feel! song inspo: Jackie and Wilson by Hozier word count: 11.2k warnings: hinted intimacy (non-explicit), language, resolved angst, and pregnancy at the very end

When people ask which places Sidney Crosby frequents in the large city of Pittsburgh, the answer is not a seedy little downtown bar. That was not the kind of place anyone would expect to find the Penguins captain. It was not a place for someone like him.

But there he was, sitting in a cracked leather booth on a warm May night. What was he doing here? Well… it was the perfect place to disappear. And that’s what Sidney wanted to do, at least for a little while.

Last season had been rough, on everyone. The injuries, the conflicts, the losses, and the constant scrutiny. Despite all of that, the team managed to fight their way up the standings, the race to the playoffs the closest it had been in years. Sid thought that maybe that turn-around, that fight, would be enough for the hungry fans that wanted nothing more than to see success. But he should have known that unless the season ended with a silver trophy, it would never be enough. And unfortunately, the Penguins lost their playoff spot by the barest of margins. And the fans were left with a bitter taste in their mouths instead of a satisfying ending.

Usually, Sidney would’ve shared their hunger and wouldn’t have felt satiated until his arms felt the weight of that 30-pound chalice. But now… he just felt tired.

Tired of living up to that impossible expectation that others held him to. Tired of the eyes that constantly turned to him and analyzed him whenever something went wrong. Tired of the whispers, the criticism that he never seemed to be able to escape.

Was Sidney Crosby losing his touch? Will one too many injuries end this once great hockey player’s career? Should he hang up his skates and let the club move onto to brighter futures? How much time does Sidney Crosby have left?

Those statements and worse had been floating around him for the past few years but he never let them break in. Instead, he used them as fuel to prove the nay-sayers wrong. But this year, the scrutiny felt worse than it ever had before and instead of the words motivating him, they crumbled the walls that he had built. They broke him down and that made him angry.

He gave everything to hockey. He gave up so much of his childhood, his adolescence, his youth, his life, to this sport, this city, to those fans. How much more did he need to prove himself? How much more would people demand of him? How much more would he be forced to give?

Doubtful, resentful, tired Sidney Crosby. The once great player of the National Hockey League.

That was how he felt and part of him didn’t want to pretend to be anything else tonight. And he assumes that’s how he found himself here.

He couldn’t remember the name of the bar where he currently sat. All he knew was this was the last place people would come looking for him. This was not a place to sight a celebrity. This was a place for drifters, rejects, people who had given up on their lives or didn’t care enough to try.  It felt like a place that was stuck in the past; the smell of old beer and cigarette smoke, the dim lighting courtesy of dust accumulated through years of indifference.  

Sidney sits in a booth in the back corner, the cracked leather digging into the back of his thighs. His hand casually wraps around the beer bottle in front of him, gently spinning it, feeling it resist as the glass clings to the stickiness of spilled alcohol lingering on the wood.

This place is not bright, it’s not shiny. It’s a place where this beaten, broken down version of himself could simply exist, baseball cap pulled low because even though this was the exact opposite of where he should be, that didn’t stop some patron’s eyes from lingering on him a little too long. But no one approached him. Maybe they could read it, feel his energy, understand that he did not want to be bothered. And for that, he was thankful. He couldn’t pretend to be the person everyone expected him to be, even from people who may have expected nothing.

He brings the bottle up to his lips, letting the lukewarm amber liquid fall into his mouth, trickling down his throat. He doesn’t let it drop until the last of the beer vanishes and he places the empty glass back with a resounding thud, pushing it so it clinks against the two other bottles abandoned on the table. He flags the bartender down, silently requesting another. He knows he shouldn’t but the fact that he shouldn’t is the very reason why he does. He’s making a choice that feels good for him, in this very moment. Damn the consequences.

A few moments and another clink echoes around him as the bartender delivers the next bottle and Sid hands them another bill, elegantly folded between his outstretched fingers, a token of discretion for both him and the worker, if they think of running their mouth. The bartender takes the money from him and moves back to their spot behind the bar-top and the seemingly pointless job of wiping down the counter.

Sid quickly peeks at his watch, checking the time. 11:52. Almost midnight. He resigns himself to this, his last drink, and he slowly sips from the bottle’s lips. The walk back to his car still parked outside PPG will give him time to sober up. The night is still warm and this way, he won’t have to worry about hustling an Uber, another potential leak that might gab about a Crosby that seemingly sunk so low. He’s about to take the last swig and leave until the creak of the front door alerts him to someone else entering the bar.

He doesn’t really intend to look. But there is some inexplicable force that calls him to. And that’s when he sees her.

She walks in, the breeze following her from outside, ruffling her long black hair and lightly fluttering the edge of the red plaid shirt adorning her body. Sidney watches as her eyes scan over the dimly lit bar and he subconsciously feels himself lift up, as if he wanted to catch her attention. He quickly deflates when those eyes simply pass over him, as if he was just another patron.

He watches as she waltzes to the bar, leaning forward and places her elbows on the wood. He hears a few muttered words to the bartender and based on her hushed conversation and body language, he realizes that this bar was a place she frequented. She was not a girl who got lost after a night out with her friends, who just happened to wander into the closest bar. No, she was familiar with this place. It perplexed him. One look at her and Sid knew that she didn’t belong here.

But not in the same way as him.

Sidney Crosby in a bar like this the equivalent of a shiny new penny that catches your eye when you see it at the bottom of a dingy fountain and wonder how it even came to be there. But her…

He couldn’t quite describe it. There was something about her; her energy, the way she carried herself. It was as if she was a creature who willingly walked into the darkest part of the forest and yet showed no fear. As if she knew she didn’t belong here, but didn’t care. Because it wasn’t that her that needed to figure out how to exist in this place. It was this place that needed to learn how to handle her.

Sidney was captivated.

And yet, when she spins on the bar stool, an Old Fashioned in hand, those eyes moving to once again gaze over the patrons of the bar, Sidney finds himself looking away, his own eyes jumping back to memorize the ridges on the mouth of his beer bottle. He didn’t know what made him look away, what made him shrink down, especially when he was vying for her attention when she first walked in. But whatever the reason, he was content to stay that way until he knew she was gone.

The last thing he expected was the crackle of dried leather shifting underneath someone else’s weight, sitting down across from him. And her green eyes staring back at him when he looked up.

“Never expected to run into a celebrity here,” she muses out loud, those eyes shamelessly looking him up and down. Sidney’s eyes tear away, ducking back down, hoping his baseball cap hid the way his cheeks turned pink.

The laughter that escapes her lips is intoxicating and Sidney feels his cheeks warm even more when he realizes she was laughing at him.

“Don’t worry, superstar,” she says, eyes moving to peruse the nearly empty bar once more. “I won’t tell anyone that you were here. I know the look of someone who wants to hide.”

Sidney’s eyes jump back up to her at her words and he can tell that she was willfully ignoring his puzzling gaze.

“You don’t look like someone who hides anything,” Sidney says, the words falling from his mouth before he can think them through and he feels himself blush again as she laughs.

“Is that your go-to line? If so, it needs some work.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that… I mean, you – “Sidney stumbles over his words and she giggles again at his attempts to rectify his words.

“You know,” she says, gently interrupting him, “I expected you to be more articulate, y’know, being an NHL captain and all. But then again,” she continues as she notices his jaw clench at her words, “you’re here. So maybe there’s more to you than what everyone thinks.”

Sidney’s mouth drops open, shocked at how easily she was able to read him. How she managed to see him, truly see him. He watches as she turns back towards him and suppresses the shudder that wants to run through him as her knees knock against his underneath the table.

“So, tell me superstar,” she says, the teasing lilt in her voice clear, “why are you here?”

“You’re really beautiful,” Sidney says, the words once again being spoken before he thinks them over and her laughter falls over him in a gentle wave. He feels heat threatening to rise to his cheeks once more but he also feels his lips pull into a smile, a gentle chuckle rumbling through him as well.

“That was a much better pick-up line than before. Glad to see improvement.”

“And who says I was trying to pick you up?” Sidney replies and her eyebrows shoot up as she glances at him. He shoots a gentle smile back and it takes a moment before she realizes he is teasing her as much as she was him. She smirks back at him, slightly shrugging her shoulders.

“Fair enough.”

Sidney watches as she lifts her glass to her lips, eyes dancing away from him. As her gaze falls from him, Sidney is struck with the thought that he would do anything to get her eyes on him again. And as if she can hear his thoughts, she looks back to him. 

“Let’s make a deal then,” she says, a bright glint in her eyes. “No more assumptions. At least, for the rest of the night. Deal?” She reaches out to him and he can’t help but look at the offered hand, decked out in rings and chipped nail polish.

“Deal,” he says and he reaches out his own hand to gently clasp hers, the callouses on his palms and fingers built up after years and years, sliding against her smooth skin. He shakes her hand before pulling away. What he didn’t expect was the feeling of disappointment that ran through him when his hand fell from hers.

“Well, now that we got that out of the way,” she starts, breaking the silence that lay heavily between the two, “you still didn’t answer my original question. What are you doing here, superstar?”

“I’m not sure,” Sidney answers, shrugging his shoulders.

“Bullshit.”

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he shoots back and she can’t stop the smile that appears.

“I don’t think that’s an assumption. There must be some reason, something that brought you here. I mean, this isn’t really a place for anyone, let alone someone like you.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Not happening, superstar. I’m not showing you mine until you show me yours.”

“Well, that seems a little like extortion,” Sidney replies, laughing at her smirk and the way she rolls her eyes at him.

“That would be coercion, not extortion. I would have to demand money from you for it to be extortion. So, unless you’re willing to pay money to learn my life story, then you’ll just have to keep wondering.”

“Oh, so now you are extorting me.” She laughs, gently shaking her head and Sidney watches and wishes there was a way he could hear that laughter forever.

“I suppose I am,” she sighs, twiddling the rings on your fingers. The silence falls as she takes another sip of her drink before she speaks again. “I’m here because I used to know the owner.”

“Used to know?”

“Yeah. Used to. He’s not around anymore. Left me with only this bar to remember him by,” she explains. Her explanation was vague enough to not reveal the entire story was but the way her voice quieted, the way that her eyes went unfocused, makes Sidney realize that was all there was to say. She sighs, blinking a couple of times before focusing back onto him.

“Alright superstar. There’s my reason. Why are you here?”

“I wanted to be in a place where no one would recognize me,” he says and he slightly chuckles when he sees the smile appear on her face. “I guess I didn’t do very well.”

“No, you really didn’t. But I suppose there isn’t a lot of places where the great Sidney Crosby can hide.”

“You have no idea,” he sighs, tearing his eyes away. It is a moment before he looks back at her and he is shocked to see a glimmer of understanding sadness in her expression.

Suppose they both were trying and failing to get away from the things that haunted them. And so, they sit, simply existing in this place where neither of them should be.

“Well,” she speaks, breaking the silence once more, “I suppose I’m not really helping you disappear. Guess I’ll see you around superstar.”

She kicks her legs out from underneath the table, scooting across the cracked leather, hand wrapped around the glass as she starts to leave. But before she can lift herself up from the booth, Sidney reaches out to her, his strong calloused hand wrapping around her wrist.

“Um,” is the first syllable out of Sidney’s mouth and his cheeks heat again as he sees the smile that pulls at her lips. “You don’t have to leave. I mean, it’s kind of nice talking to you. And besides,” he says, a crooked smirk appearing, “you haven’t successfully extorted me yet.”

“It’s not really extortion if you agree to it, you know.”

“Then just call it a date,” Sidney replies and he can see that she is slightly taken aback at his casual words.

“What exactly are you offering me, superstar? Are you gonna pick me up in a nice tux and take me to a fancy romantic restaurant, with roses and wine and then drive me home and leave me with a polite kiss on the cheek?”

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he says but he knows that she can see the light pink tinge on his cheeks and can easily guess that that was exactly what he was thinking.

“It wasn’t an assumption. It was a… prediction,” she shoots back, settling back down in the booth, fingers dancing over the glass of her Old Fashioned. “But hey, if I’m wrong, tell me now.”

Sidney sits there in silence, his hand wrapping around his bottle as he takes another swig of beer. He couldn’t respond to her challenge because it was true. And he hated that she could see right through him so easily. Or maybe he loved that within a few short moments of meeting him, she managed to laugh her way to the truth of him, break through all the people that he pretended to be.

He wasn’t quite sure which feeling was real. All he knew for certain is that he wanted more.

“Well,” he clears his throat, his eyes jumping back to hers. “What were you thinking of?”

Her fingers continue to circle the rim of her glass, her head tilting and gaze drifting away from him as she thinks. Then her eyes reattach to his and – with what Sidney could only describe as one of the most wicked smiles that he had seen – she plucks the cherry garnish from her drink. Sidney can’t take his eyes off of her as she drops the entire fruit into her mouth. He watches as she sits there for a moment, the red juice lingering on her lips and he would give anything to kiss the sour-sweet off. Her lips part and she plucks the cherry stem from in between her teeth, tossing it over the table. Sidney glances down and notices the perfect knot in the center. His eyes jump back up to her, that fucking grin still on her face.

“What do you say we just get out of here?”

­­­~*~*~*~*~*~

The soft morning sunlight filters through the windows, dancing across Sidney’s face. And when his eyelids finally fluttered open, the first sight he was met with was a cluttered nightstand. His gaze dances over the candles, plants, and rings that littered the wood – the opposite of the clean and sleek table that sits beside his own bed. But then again, he wasn’t in his bed.

Sidney glances down and sees Jade curled up in his arms, her back against his chest, breaths falling softly. She had whispered her name to him last night, on the way to her apartment where he currently resided.

Last night was… he didn’t think he could describe it.

When she made her bold offer, there was a part of Sidney that wasn’t sure if he should agree. But there was something about her, something so unfathomable that Sidney couldn’t stop the pull of her gravity. And in that moment, he silenced the critical voice in his head and said yes.

It wasn’t supposed to mean anything. He was supposed to chalk it up as a little too much to drink, a lapse in judgement. But then she kissed him.

And Sidney realized that he never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again.

Last night, he felt alive. Jade had kissed him without pretense, without presumption. Her lips danced across his skin, counting every scar, leaving no inch untouched. She breathed life into the hollows of his neck, the ridges of his ribs and he was caught in the thrill of someone who willingly brought him to his knees. She surprised him, challenged him. He hadn’t felt that way in a long time.

But then again, he never met someone like her before.

A heavy sigh sounds from her and Sidney is startled out of his daydream, back to the present moment. Jade nestles deeper into the rumpled sheets, another sigh escaping her. Sidney’s arms impulsively tighten around her frame, pulling her closer, loving the way her skin felt against his. What he wouldn’t give to stay in this bed, forgetting about the world waiting for him outside.

But one glance at the alarm clock perched on the nightstand told him that he couldn’t.

The great Sidney Crosby had things to do.

With a defeated breath, Sidney presses a small kiss into her ruffled hair before carefully untangling himself from her grasp. He crawls out of the bed, picking up his clothes scattered on the floor where they fell the night before. As he gets redressed, Sidney lets his eyes jump around the room, as he tried to discern Jade’s story from the pictures on the walls, the books on the shelves, the knick-knacks decorating every free space. He wasn’t prying; that would be considered rude. But he wanted to know more about the woman that he shared a bed with. Wanted to see if he could understand the power she held over him.

He's leaning in close to a picture hung on the wall at the foot of the bed, his hand clasped behind him when he hears a small laugh echo around the room. He quickly spins around, a blush instantly rising to his cheeks. His eyes land on Jade, propped up on her elbows, the sheets clinging to her body.

“Are you spying on me superstar?” she asks and Sidney is relieved to hear the teasing lilt in the question. He can’t help but respond with a small smile of his own.

“Wasn’t my intention,” he replies, walking back towards her.

“Oh really? And what exactly was your intention?” she laughs as Sidney settles himself on the edge of the bed, the mattress slightly sinking underneath his weight.

“Just trying to figure out a mystery.”

“What mystery is that?”

“You,” he says softly, his gentle eyes dancing over her face, smiling as he watches her own smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Jade lifts herself off the mattress, sitting up completely and leaning in closer to him. Her chin comes to find a perch on his shoulder and she leans her cheek against him, breathing in the lingering cologne from his t-shirt. Sidney lets her rest there for a moment, choosing not to move away and instead watch as the rising sun paints the apartment golden.

“Keep wondering,” she whispers into the morning air. She turns her head to look up at him, a smirk painted onto her face as his eyes connect to hers. The sunlight catches her irises, setting the green alight. He watches as her gaze jumps from his eyes to his lips and back again but he doesn’t call her out on it because he knows his eyes are doing the exact same thing.

Sidney is the one to break first, leaning in to capture her lips in a gentle kiss. He can hear her breath catch in her throat and part of him hopes she can understand the emotion behind his actions. How he is worshipping her without words. Her hands find their way up into his hair, fingers tangling into the peppered grey at his temples. Jade falls back down against the sheets, dragging Sidney down with her. He groans into the kiss, his arms caging her to the bed. But she didn’t seem to mind.

He breaks apart, leaving her to chase after his lips as his body retreats. A small chuckle rumbles from Sidney’s chest and Jade playfully glares up at him.

“I have to go,” he says, breaking the silence, a part of him aching as he watches her expression falter. He steels himself as he rises off the bed, moving towards the door, his hand wrapping around the door handle. But before he turns it, he looks back towards Jade, feeling her eyes still attached his frame.  

“Am I going to see you again?”

“Only if you want to,” she teases and Sidney can’t stop the crooked smile from appearing on his face, eyes ducking down at her gentle prodding.

“I do,” he says, biting his lip and glancing back up at you. “Could I get your number? Or do you want mine?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jade laughs, Sidney’s expression shifting to one of confusion. She smiles back at him before continuing. “I’m sure it’ll be easy to find you in this city.”

Sidney laughs, happily falling back into the verbal tennis match that made him so drawn to her. He turns back towards the door, opening it gently and stepping over the threshold.

“Well then, I guess I’ll see you around,” he says, not hiding the hopeful rise in his voice.

“Catch you later, superstar.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Days passed and Sidney still hadn’t heard from Jade. Or even seen her.

Every time he walked down the Pittsburgh streets, he hoped that he’d run into her; maybe coming out of the bustling farmers market or even on the street outside of PPG Arena. He had even entertained the thought of going back to the bar where they met in the hopes that she’d be there. But he never did.

She said that she would find him but every day that went by without a trace of her, Sidney’s hopes dimmed. And as time ticked by, an insidious thought entered Sidney’s mind; maybe she did this on purpose.

Maybe this was the way she operated, part of how she moved through life. Blew in out of nowhere, entered his world and turned it upside down, and then disappeared as quickly as she came.

Sidney didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want to believe that he would never see her again. There was something about her; he felt it from the moment she walked into that bar. Something that he wanted to continue to explore. Jade was fascinating and wild and free. She made Sidney feel young again, even in that one night. And that wasn’t something he had felt in a very long time.

Sidney has had eyes on him since he was a child. He was taught how to behave, how to act, how to be that good guy, on the ice but especially off the ice because his image was so closely tied with his success. People can hate you as much as they want for how you play, but if their only complaint is your skills and not your character, there is nothing they can take away from you.

It wasn’t that he hated it. He was thankful for everything that hockey brought him; family, friendship, and more prosperity than he knew what to do with. But part of him never felt like he got to be a kid.

He knew he could never go back and re-live that part of his life. But Jade… she made him feel youthful. And God, what he wouldn’t give to feel like that again.

These were the thoughts that were rattling around in his head as he walks down the Pittsburgh streets, the sun warming his back. He wasn’t sure of his destination or if he even had a destination. All he knew was that he needed the space, needed to take a moment to breathe. He keeps his head down, eyes focused on the concrete sidewalk, letting the cars speed past him. He doesn’t take note of anything around him which means he doesn’t notice the car that pulls up behind him.

“Hey there, stranger!” a voice calls out to him. He turns and there she is – Jade, sitting behind the wheel of a beautiful vintage convertible.

Her sunglasses are perched on the end of her nose, those green eyes playfully looking over the edge at him and he can’t help the smile that appears on his lips at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he says casually, turning towards her and walking over. He reaches the passenger door and leans against the side. “I thought you disappeared.”

“Oh, so you’ve been thinking about me?”

“Only every day,” Sidney coolly replies and she laughs at his words. And the way her laughter rings through the late noon has Sidney’s heart ringing with it.

“You know, your pick-up lines are improving every time we talk.”

“You’re a good influence on me, I suppose.”

“Ugh, there you go again Sidney Crosby,” she says, dramatically throwing her hand on her chest. “You know the way right to a girl’s heart!”

A warm chuckle rumbles through Sidney, his head slightly shaking at her antics. Her smile never leaves her face and he returns the grin as she takes him in; his warm skin, the bright sun lighting up his hair, his body calm and relaxed against her car.

“So,” Sidney starts, “what have you been up to?”

“Not much. Just looking for you,” Jade replies, shooting him that dazzling smile before kicking off the parking brake, shifting the car to drive. “Hop in.”

Sidney takes a step back, a little shocked by her sudden request. She shoots a glance back towards him and he knows that she has seen the shift in his demeanor. The smooth and relaxed guy that was there a second ago had disappeared. In his place was the closed-off Sidney Crosby that people were used to.

“Um” Sidney hesitates, his uncertainty the only thing he could speak.

“Come on, you know I’m not some crazy stalker,” she laughs. Her words don’t work as Sidney stays in his place. Jade sighs, shifting the car and placing the parking brake back on.

“What’s up?”

“I’m just not sure this is the best idea.”

“Was it a good idea for you to get drunk in a downtown bar a week ago?” she shoots back at him. Sidney knows she has him with those words because it wasn’t. But that’s exactly where she found him.

“C’mon superstar,” Jade says, her voice softening but still holding that teasing energy that drew him to her in the first place. “Don’t think about what anyone else would think. Do what your heart tells you to do. And if that’s walking away right now, then I’ll respect that. But I have a feeling that’s not the case.”

Sidney looks back at her, leaning back in the driver’s seat, that smile on her lips. How she was able to see through him so easily, after spending a single night with him, he’ll never know. But he knew for certain that he didn’t want to lose it. He didn’t want to how he felt when he was with her.

And before he could talk himself out of it, before he could let those voices in his head decide for him, he was tugging on the door handle and sliding himself onto the warm leather of the passenger’s seat.

Jade’s only reply to his actions is a bright smirk shot in his direction before she once again shifts the car to drive and pulls away from the curb and onto the Pittsburgh streets.

Sidney looks out, watching as the buildings and other cars pass by. Sometimes, when stopped at a traffic light, he thinks he notices people on the sidewalks or in the neighboring cars do a double take in his direction. He instinctively ducks or turns his head away, never wanting to draw attention to himself. But it doesn’t fully work.

A car speeds pass, horn honking and Jade and Sidney look up as a few boys lean out of the window.

“Hell yeah Sidney!!!” their shouts echo as they drive away and Sidney gives them a polite wave. Jade’s head turns towards him and an involuntary giggle falling from her lips at his chagrined expression.

“That’s got to be annoying,” she says, turning her attention back towards the road.

“I don’t mind it,” Sidney replies, his somewhat practiced words falling from his lips.

“Bullshit.”

Sidney’s eyes jump to Jade, her serious yet relaxed face turned towards the road. She releases a sigh as she senses his eyes on her. Without looking at him, she continues.

“C’mon superstar. Part of you must want to live your life without all the eyes of Pittsburgh on you.”

Sidney doesn’t reply, instead choosing to turn his head back to look at the passing scenery. He didn’t want to admit it but she was right. There were moments in his life that he wondered what it would be like if he was not Pittsburgh Penguin Captain #87, the great Sidney Crosby, one of the best NHL players and he was simply… Sidney.

There she was, once again reading him like the well-worn pages of old book.

The silence weighs heavily, a stark contrast to the spring breeze that rustled through the air. Jade shoots a quick glance in Sidney’s direction and find him still turned away.

“Look, I’m sorry. That was presumptuous on my part,” she says, eyes returning to the road stretched out ahead. Sidney’s face turns back to look at her, watches as her hands tighten around the steering wheel, reading the anxiety that coiled in her body.

“I thought we agreed no assumptions?” he jokes, echoing the words from the first night they met. Jade laughs, the noise immediately lifting the fog from between them.

“Yes. Yes, we did.”

She continues to turn down the busy streets and Sidney lets himself relax back into the present moment. He watches as Jade glances up at the traffic signs before a smirk appears on her face. It stays on her lips as she turns to connect her eyes with Sidney.

“Do you want to get out of this town?”

Even though her eyes are obscured by her tinted sunglasses, Sidney knows that bright mischievous energy is sure to be sparkling in those green eyes, the look that pulled him to her that very first night. Without thinking, he nods in agreement. Her grin widens as she turns onto the highway that leads out of the heart of Pittsburgh.

They zip down the interstate, the wind ruffling Jade’s hair as they drive further out of the city. She glances back at Sidney and smiles as she sees him relaxed against the passenger seat, his energy seemingly calmer, his chest rising and falling, breathing in the fresh air, the smile never leaving his face.

Eventually, Sidney turns his eyes back to Jade and watches her in the same way.

Part of him felt like he was running away; running from his problems and his worries. However, he knew that if he ever did decide to run away from his troubles, that also meant running away from the things that meant the most; friends, his career, his success. But right now, he couldn’t find it in himself to care. Because deep down he knew he would run from anything if it meant running with her.

He watches as Jade reaches down to turn on the radio, scanning until she lands on a station playing some old classic rock and leans back, letting the music dance through the light breeze. Her lips start to move, quietly mouthing along to the lyrics as the world races by. Over the noise of the breeze, traffic, and music, it takes her a minute to register a different voice accompanying the radio. Jade peeks over to see Sidney singing along to the music, his hands tapping a rhythm onto the passenger side door. With a smile, she reaches again and turns the music up, looking back at Sidney with a grin.

“Oh, the movie never ends, it goes on and on and on and on,” she joins in, the grin never leaving her as her eyes goad Sidney on. Sidney reads her challenge and continues singing, his volume increasing.

“Strangers waitin’ up and down the boulevard their shadows searchin’ in the night.”

“Streetlights, people. Livin’ just to find emotion.”

“Hidin’ somewhere in the night!” Sidney leans his head back, hitting that high note, causing another bought of laughter to fall from Jade’s lips. He looks back to her, the smile dancing across his lips as he watches; her head throw back, her child-like laughter cascading through the air. And that feeling hit him again; that feeling of youth and freedom.

Sidney didn’t have to pretend to be anyone with her. He could simply be.

They continue down the road, singing and laughing as the world passes by. After what seems like hours, Jade turns off the highway, taking an exit that Sidney didn’t recognize.

“Where are we going?” he questions, looking back as the crowded turnpike disappears behind him.

“No place special.”

Sidney doesn’t feel like prying so he remains silent and lets Jade move along the small desolate roads. Throughout the drive, he constantly looks back at her, watching as she confidently turns down side streets, as if she had followed this path a hundred times. Another part of the mystery of her.

Jade drives onto a dirt road, passing a worn wooden sign that Sidney can barely read and follows the path up a small hill until she parks at the edge of a lookout. He watches as she hops out and walks to the front of the car, leaning against the hood. It takes a few seconds until Sidney is following, finding his place in the empty space next to her. He looks out onto the scenery and it taken aback.

Jade had brought him to a lake, the trees crowding the edges, the water gently sloshing against the shore. The sun shined down on the scene, making the water below sparkle. His eyes couldn’t stay still as he took in everything around him: the sugar-spun clouds, the towering oak trees, the groups of dandelions that line the edge of the hill. He stays silent as he sits next to Jade, letting the only noise be the rustling of the leaves around him and the quiet birdsong.

A few moments pass before Sidney looks back at her and feels his heart leap. She is staring out over the scenery, the wind ruffling the edges of her shirt, the pale blue sky reflected in her eyes. There is nothing special about how she looked and he loved that. She wasn’t performing for him or for anyone. She simply existed.

Sidney watches as she lifts herself up off the car and wanders to the edge of the lookout, the sunlight tracing her frame. Crouching down, she plucks some of the dandelions from the grass, lifting them up and letting the bright yellow flowers wiggle in her grasp.

“Do you like dandelions?” she asks, her eyes never departing from the task at hand.

“I never thought about it,” Sidney answers truthfully.

“I think they’re lovely,” she softly says, her fingertips tracing the golden petals.

“But they’re just weeds, right?”

A breathy laugh falls from her lips as she straightens herself up, the flowers still held in her grasp. She wanders over to Sidney, slotting herself between his parted thighs. Sidney can feel his breath catch in his throat as she leans towards him, pulling a dandelion from the small bouquet.

“And who says weeds aren’t lovely?” she whispers to him, gently placing the flower behind his ear and he can’t suppress the shiver that runs through him at the feeling of the petals against his skin and her fingers tracing down the back of his neck.

“So beautiful and so stubbornly alive.”

Her gentle words are enough for Sidney to lean in, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. She sighs against his lips, her arms absentmindedly wrapping around his shoulders as his hands find their place on her hips, pulling her closer. The kiss deepens as Sidney is pulls her down, her body draped over him as his back rests against the warm metal of the hood. Jade finally breaks away, departing breathless above Sidney. Sidney looks up at her, his hazel eyes warm as he lifts his hand, coming to cradle her cheek, his thumb gently tracing over the smooth skin.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he murmurs.

Jade pauses and Sidney swears the world stops as his confession lingers in the late May air. Sidney keeps his breathing strong and steady underneath Jade as he waits for her response. The glimmering hope in his eyes falter as a laugh from her lips instead of the words he hopes to hear.

“So rational, Sidney. Falling for a woman you just met,” she says, voice light and dismissive. Sidney’s eyebrows furrow at the shift in her energy, watching as she lifts herself up, pushing her body away from him and off the car. She returns to her spot next to him on the edge of the hood, eyes returning to overlook the scenery in front of her.

“You barely know me.”

Sidney knows that she can feel his eyes on her but she doesn’t turn around. He reaches his arm out towards her and can feel the shiver that runs through her as his fingers graze over her hips.

“I want to.”

Those gentle words are what causes her to finally turn back to him, her eyes connecting to his. The look on his face is so truthful, so earnest. A small smile appears on her lips and Sidney lets out a breath of relief that he didn’t know he was holding.

“Is that your best pick-up line?” she quips.

“As long as it works,” Sidney teases back, wanting to keep the light-hearted energy between the two of them flowing. She laughs that brilliant beautiful laugh that captured him that first night and lifts herself up off the car. She extends a hand out to him which he gladly takes, lifting himself up before moving closer to her, his arms wrapping around her waist once more.

This time it is Jade who makes the first move, lifting herself up to connect her lips to his. They stand there, entangled in each other’s arms, the sunlight warming their bodies. And Sidney feels instantly lighter when she finally breaks away.

“Come on, superstar,” she says, peeling away from him. “Let’s get you home.”

She hops back in the car, Sidney following close behind, before retracing the path back to the bright lights of the now dark Pittsburgh streets. And when Jade pulls her car up outside Sidney’s house in his affluent neighborhood, it takes everything in him not to invite her inside.

But Sidney still has a smile on his face as he opens the front door and turns to watch her car disappear around the corner. Because in his pocket is a dandelion along with an old receipt, with her phone number hastily scrawled on the back.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The months that Sidney shares with Jade pass in a blur. It wasn’t bad, it wasn’t rushed. It was just how it felt; a swift stumble into a romance that felt as soft as summer and as gentle as the setting sun. It felt like something out of a movie: a romance filled with honey and lemons – bright and sweet and wild.

Sidney was in constant awe of Jade; how she moved through the world, how fearless and unapologetic she was. He had never met anyone like her.

He had been everywhere, all over the country, all over the world. He had played in front of thousands of people, each one of them cheering his name. And he would trade it all, every experience, if he could be promised that he’d never have to live without hearing her soft voice whispering secrets in the golden-filled hours under white covers, eyelids heavy and the scent of magnolias drifting through the open windows.

There were moments when Sidney didn’t think she was real. That she was an apparition that he conjured up from one of his wildest dreams. But she was real and every moment he spent with her, he became more certain that she was made for him.

These were the thoughts where dancing through his head as he watches her move throughout his living room, her body lightly dancing to the tune she was humming underneath her breath. He sits on the couch, just watching her, his t-shirt hanging from her frame, the early afternoon sun dancing on her skin. She turns, a smile on her lips that Sidney shares. That bright laugh falls from Jade as she waltzes over him, her body coming to a stop between his outstretched thighs. Her hand reaches out, gently running through his hair, following a path down to his cheek, her touch bouncing between every freckle. She giggles as his lips kisses her fingertips each time they get too close to his lips.

Jade turns away from him and starts to exit the living room. But she stops in her tracks at the sound of Sidney’s voice.

“I love you.”

The world seems to stop when those words fall from his lips. He said it before, that day in May overlooking the lake. But it was a question back then, a hesitation. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said that day. And that one word, that uncertainty, held him back from the truth he knew. But now…

Jade turns around to see Sidney sitting there on the couch and when her eyes dance over his face, Sidney knows that she can see the honesty painted there. He was sure of his words and wanted her to believe him when he said it. He was in love with her; that much was certain. So, there he sat, still looking at her, silently praying that she would say the words in return.

Instead, it is a laugh that echoes around the room.

“That’s sweet superstar. Do you tell that to every wide-eyed girl you know?” she quips. Sidney’s eyebrows furrow as the confused replaces the certainty that used to be on his face.

“What are you saying?” he asked, his bewildered tone clear.

“What are you saying, Sidney? You love me?”

“Yes,” he replies without hesitation. “Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“What do you mean ‘I don’t’?” Sidney questions as he lifts himself off the couch cushions, taking a small step towards her. He hears the light-hearted sigh she lets out as she turns away before his voice stops her again.

“Please, look at me.”

Jade turns back towards him, looking him in the eye.

“You don’t love me, Sidney. You don’t.”

“What does that mean?”

She scoffs, and the lack of explanation frustrates him, causing him to continue.

“No, tell me why you don’t think I love you. What have we been doing for the past few months? Just having fun?”

“Yes,” she snaps, “yes, Sidney that is exactly what we’ve been doing. That’s what this is; you looking for a distraction and me being the one to give you that.”

“Is that how you see us? Is that how you see me? That I’m just using you for… my own gain? How could you think that?”

“Because that’s what you’re doing Sidney,” she says with a venom in her voice that Sidney was entirely unaware existed. “Maybe you don’t realize it but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying. I don’t understand why you would think that. When I met you that night in that bar, there was something. Something pulled me to you, I don’t know what it was, but there was something, you can’t deny that. And you found me. I don’t care if that sounds stupid or cliché but you found me at the right time and… and you saved me. I was drowning and you saved me.”

She scoffs again at his words and Sidney still can’t understand her reaction.

“You did,” he continues, his voice raising, taking on a pleading edge that he should’ve been ashamed of but he didn’t care. He wanted Jade to talk to him. “I felt like shit, I was angry and spiteful and tired. God, I was so fucking tired. And then you came along and you changed that. With everything you do; the way you laugh, your smile, your attitude. It was refreshing and freeing. You made me feel young and in love and I never felt like that before. And I do love you because of it.”

“My God, Sidney,” she yells, the damn finally breaking. “Do you even hear yourself? This – that – that’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She starts to pace around the room, the frustrated energy radiating off her in waves. “I’m not here to complete you or make you feel young or save you. That’s not my fucking job.”

As soon as those words escape her, Sidney realizes how he fucked up. He starts to open his mouth in an attempt to back-track, to tell her that he didn’t mean it that way. But before he can utter a single syllable, Jade cuts him off again.

“And that’s what I mean when I say that you are using me. I’m this girl who showed up at the right time and everything about me is fun and unique and wild and carefree. That’s who you want me to be, so I can fit into that pretty little narrative you created in your head.  You don’t love me, Sidney. You love that woman, that idealized version that you made. But I’m not her. I’m not that girl.”

She sighs, energy spent as she collapse onto the armchair in the corner, eyes downcast.

“You look at me Sidney. But you don’t see me.”

Sidney shifts in place before moving over towards her. However, even though she could clearly hear his approach, Jade doesn’t lift her head as he kneels down, his warm palms coming to rest on her thighs.

“I do see you. I promise I do. There’s so many things about you that I love and –”

“Name one,” she says, those piercing green eyes locking with his. Sidney flinches when he sees the distance shining within her irises. “Name one thing you love about me that doesn’t benefit you.”

Her challenge hangs heavy in the air as Sidney open his mouth, leaving it gaping for a moment before closing it once more. And he can’t stop the small wince that pangs through him at the humorless laugh falls from her lips.

“That’s what I thought,” she sighs. “I’ve been there before. I’ve been with people like that before. I know you think you love me but you don’t. As soon as I show any vulnerability, anything that you can’t slap a pretty little filter over, anything that doesn’t fit into your daydream, you’ll wake up… and then you’ll leave. You’re going to tell me that you won’t, that you’re not like all the rest but…”

Her words trail off and Sidney wants to know why. He wants to know what he could say to her to prove that he was different. That he did love her, that he did want to be with her. That he would stay forever by her side. 

He wanted to know why her heart was battered, beaten. How it had become like a scared animal backed into a corner, timid and mistrustful.

“I promised myself that I would never go through that again. I can’t,” she finishes, pushing his hands off of her as she lifts herself off the armchair. Sidney watches as she grabs her keys, walking to his front door, placing her hand on the handle, ready to walk out of Sidney’s life. But before she does, she looks back towards him, still kneeling on the ground, his hazel eyes locked on her frame.

“I’m sorry,” she says and Sidney isn’t quite sure what she is apologizing for. But those words feel as definitive as a goodbye. And those are the words she leaves him with as she walks out of his house.

Sidney stays there, watching as the door closes, the resounding click of the latch falling into place echoing through his home and only one thought similarly reverberating through his mind:

Where did he go wrong?

He thought she felt the same. No, he was certain that she felt the same way about him. Sidney was and could be many things but reckless with his emotions was never one of them. His head spun with the moments that he had shared with her throughout the months.

At first, he couldn’t think of any instance that he could confidently say that was the sign, the indication that she didn’t feel the same. But as he continued to think, as he pushed away that love-struck haze that covered those memories, he realized that there had been some moments; moments where she pulled away from him. She hid it well, with her laughter and jokes concealing a deeper meaning, a hurt that he never bothered to investigate more of.

Perhaps she was right. Perhaps he got too caught up in how she made him feel that he didn’t put in the effort to uncover who she really was.

But the more he thought about it, he realizes that he didn’t just sweep those moments under the rug, didn’t ignore them. He pushed as much as he thought he could, never wanting to overstep the boundaries that she had set. Sometimes he felt as if he got close but every time he felt that way, a wall he didn’t even notice separated him from her. It wasn’t easy. But Sidney knew that he would wait forever for Jade to tell him those stories that she kept under lock and key.

Yes, there were moments where things weren’t perfect, where he made mistakes, where communication fell flat. But part of him knew that those beautiful moments he shared with her, where he did truly see her, were enough to chase after her. Because there was no way that the past few months weren’t real.

The speed that Sidney grabs his coat and car keys is hectic to say the least but he knows that he can’t waste anymore seconds. There is a very real possibility that Jade would be lost to him forever, gone as fast as a midnight cigarette. He jumps into his car, making his way down the winding Pittsburgh streets to her apartment building. He is ready to scramble out and hit the buzzer of her apartment until she responds. That is, until he takes a quick look around the small parking lot and doesn’t see Jade’s vintage convertible anywhere.

A frustrated sigh escapes his chest as he takes out his phone, dialing Jade’s number but only getting her voicemail. His body slumps against the driver’s seat, a wave of defeat washing over him, a feeling that he didn’t want to accept. He closes his eyes as his brain desperately flips through his memories, trying to find something that could tell him where she might be.

Suddenly, a crystal-clear image pops into his mind; sunglasses perched on her nose, the wind whipping around her convertible, that wicked smile dancing on her lips, her voice light;

“Do you want to get out of this town?”

His eyes fly open as he kicks his car into reverse, driving back onto the streets. After a few minutes, Sidney is on the highway leaving downtown and bringing him closer to rural Pennsylvania and hopefully, closer to her.

Part of him worries that he’ll make a wrong turn somewhere, delaying him and potentially costing him his last opportunity to reach Jade. He didn’t have the exact map in his mind. She had only brought him there once, that day in May and he hadn’t taken the time to memorize the specific route. All he had to go on was the bare bones of his memory and the landscape and signs around him.

But it seemed the universe was on his side; the setting sun is guiding his path. He recognizes enough small landmarks, telling him that he was headed the right way and it wasn’t long until he found himself pulling up to that old wooden sign.

He turns onto the dirt road, following the path up that small hill, that outlook where Jade took him those months ago. There is a whisper of fear within him, scared that he would make it to the top and it would be empty. That she would be gone completely from his life and he would never be able to find her again. But then he turns that final corner.

And there her vintage convertible sits, parked on the top of the hill.

And there she sits, leaning against the hood, looking out at the sunset.

Sidney parks his car behind hers, letting the engine die and plunging the lakeside back into the almost silence of nature; the wind in the trees being the only sound.

Hopping out of the car, Sidney moves towards Jade, partially expecting her to turn back or acknowledge him in any way. She must have heard him, must have heard the car door and his feet crunching the gravel beneath him. But she doesn’t react; her eyes stay locked on the horizon. Even when Sidney reaches her, leaning the hood next to her. The silence hangs heavy until Sidney finally speaks.

“You hate the ends of garlic bread,” he says, his voice soft. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Jade’s head whip towards him, his words clearly not the ones that she was expecting. He doesn’t look in her direction though, instead choosing to stare into the same sunset that she was moments ago.

“You hum any song when you’re cooking or doing chores,” he continues, his voice sure and steady. “You will use anything as a bookmark. You always catch the spiders your apartment and release them instead of killing them. You put cinnamon sticks in your coffee. You always point out cows when you drive. You move around in your apartment just to make sure you’re always sitting in sunlight. You love gardening and want to have a yard so you can grow flowers and fruits and vegetables and herbs.”  

He continues to list these things about her. And it’s not just the beautiful things; it’s the ugly, scared, vulnerable things he’s noticed too. He’s describing these moments, these little things that he doesn’t even know the meaning behind. But he notices them nevertheless. And finally, finally, he turns to look into Jade’s eyes. And he notices the way her breath catches when she sees the look of pure love shining in his.

“You were right. I did love the idea of you. I loved the way you made me feel. And I should’ve known – I should’ve known not to do that. Because that’s all everyone has ever done with me.”

He lets his confession hang in the air, letting his words sink in for a moment before he speaks again.

“Almost all my life, people had their ideas about who I should be. And I got so used to it, that I started believing that’s who I was. I made these masks that I could wear and change in order to always be the exact person that people expected. Then you came along. You didn’t expect me to be anyone but myself. You saw through all those feeble facades that I wore and you loved me for exactly who I was. And,” he pauses, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, as if to gather himself one final time, “I don’t want to go back to pretending for whoever comes next. Because I don’t want there to be anyone else. I only want you. The beautiful part and the ugly parts. Because that’s who I love. You.”

Sidney finishes his speech and lets the silence fall, lets his words drift away into the late summer breeze. His eyes stay locked onto hers, looking into those beautiful green eyes, watching the changing emotions flicker behind them as she takes in his confession. She finally breaks the connection, turning to look back at the sunset.

“I can’t be the one to make sure you stay that way, Sidney,” she says, reiterating that fear that kept him at arms-length throughout those months that they shared.

“You were never the one that made me become myself. You gave me permission to make that choice in a moment when I thought I didn’t have that option anymore.”

It’s another moment of stillness, another moment of simply existing in the same space. Until Jade finally moves, her hand reaching over the hood of the car towards Sidney. There is a second of hesitancy where her hand rests in the empty in the space between them.

Until finally, Sidney extends his own hand. And when his hand meets hers, fingers intertwining, the sigh falling from her lips, he knows that she can feel the warmth of his love. And along with it, the certainty that she was safe to fall.

Because he would always be there to catch her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Three Years Later

The click of the lock is a welcome sound, Sidney pushing the front door open to his new home. Or more accurately, their new home. The one he and Jade chose a year ago, shortly after their wedding. A place that would be uniquely theirs, a place where they could set down roots and build a home and a life after his retirement from hockey.

Sidney had announced his retirement at the beginning of this season, stating that it would be his last. There was a large amount of fanfare and an expectedly large amount of media attention throughout the regular season. When the Penguins hadn’t made it to the playoffs, he was upset. The narrative of his club winning one last Stanley Cup for him was a compelling one. But he didn’t let the loss sting him too much. He had three already, along with so many other awards and achievements and memories. Those were the things that he could hold onto.

He was confident that he would be able to let the game of hockey go. Because he had Jade.

Sidney walks deeper into the house, calling her name, his voice echoing off the walls. A silence greets him until he finally makes his way into the kitchen. And sees the open screen door leading to the backyard, the mellow sounds of R&B music floating into the house. After putting his things down on the kitchen island, he steps out onto the porch, his hazel eyes scanning over the yard.

The first thing Sidney notices is their dog Wilson laying in the middle of the yard, his chest rising and falling as he soaks in the April sunlight. Sidney’s eyes finally find Jade, sitting on her knees, crouched over one of the many flowerbeds he made for her. He watches as her hands pull out the creeping weeds, preparing for the coming spring. A few plastic pots of black irises sit next to her, their stalks gently swaying in the breeze as they patiently wait for her to nestle them in the dark soil.

Sidney makes his way across the yard, stopping to greet Wilson who is so content that he barely lifts his head in acknowledgement. He eventually reaches Jade, his body lowering to join her on the earth. The approach would’ve been silent, if it weren’t for the groan that rumbles from his chest as his knees protested.

“I’m getting too old for this,” he laughs, finally relaxing into kneeling position. Jade’s laugh dances on the breeze, her attention turning to him, the Pittsburgh Penguins baseball cap perched on her head, protecting her face from the sun.

“What’s the matter superstar? Retirement taking the wind from your sails?” she teases, sitting back on her heels as she wipes the dirt off her hands onto her worn out t-shirt. Sidney can’t help but smile when he notices the rings hanging from her necklace, the ones that he had chosen for her almost two years prior.

“I’ve only technically been retired for a week now,” he playfully shoots back, the false offense painting his words. Jade just laughs again, her attention still focused on him. “I suppose my body just needs to learn how to slow down.”

“Well, hopefully it’s not too broken down to pass me that bucket of fresh soil.”

Her teasing request is one that he gladly obliges, reaching for the green bucket sitting a few inches away from him. He pulls it close to his body, ready to pass it over to her when a flash of white catches his eyes. Sidney’s eyes refocus, staring into the bucket as his brain registers the item perched on top of the loose soil.

A pregnancy test.

He tentatively reaches it, grasping the test and lifting it out of the pail. He has to use his hand to block the sunlight to be able to fully read the screen. And his jaw drops when he finally makes out the word ‘pregnant’ staring back at him. Sidney’s eyes flash up to Jade whose gaze is still locked on his body, a soft smile on her face.

“Are you serious?” he asks, the disbelief clear in his tone.

Jade doesn’t give a verbal response, just a small nod as her smile grows wider. Sidney doesn’t hesitate to reach out to her, pulling her into a crushing hug. Her bright cheerful laugh rings out through the air as he holds her close, muttering words of joy and thanks to her and to the universe for bringing these blessings to his life. Sidney can’t stop pressing kisses into her sun-warmed skin as she continues to giggle before she grabs his face and draws him into a passionate kiss.

They finally break away from each other, smiles still splitting their faces and Sidney’s hands fall to rest on her still flat stomach.

“What should we name her?” he asks, his thumbs lifting Jade’s shirt to brush against her bare skin.

“Easy there, superstar. We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet.”

“Trust me, it’s a girl.”

“Oh, and why are you so certain about that? Did the sudden knowledge that you’re going to be a father give you some sort of parental superpower?”

“I just know it,” he replies, that crooked smile tugging at his lips. Jade just returns his smile, his quiet certainty making her softly chuckle.

“I’ve always liked the name Jacqueline. Jackie for short,” she says, the suggestion floating on the breeze.

“Then Jackie it is.”

The two of them stay there, staring at each other as the sunlight beats down on them. This was it for him. It was him and Jade and Wilson and their unborn child. A contented sigh falls from his lips; this was all he ever wanted in his life, all he had ever hoped for. And just like she always did, Jade seemed to know exactly what he was feeling, that beautiful soft smile painting her features.

It isn’t clear who moved first, but at the same time it didn’t matter. Because when Sidney’s lips met Jade’s, he felt the certainty of their love thrumming through him. They break apart, his forehead resting against Jade’s, their breaths mingling in the warm summer light.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

taglist: @laurenairay @fallinallincurls @ sorlos-world @svexhenthusiast and adding @wyattjohnston cause as mentioned, this is started as a Winter Fic Exchange fic.

join my taglist here!

[playedcrowd5610]

Keep Away - Danny Phantom x Transformers Prime

Summary: The Decepticons have to hide Danny from Megatron.

---

Set in a series where Danny finds Starscream one day and decides to start haunting the Decepticons. That's basically all the context you need but if you want more here is the rest of the series:

Haunting the Nemesis

Part 1: Chasing Stars

Part 2: Burning Rubber

Part 3: Adventures of the Decepticons' Pet Ghost Or Tumblr Master List

--

Danny found himself once again hanging out in the medbay. After a lot of convincing, Knockout had begrudgingly allowed the human to commandeer a small corner of the lab for himself. Danny used it to work on his tech and small experiments he liked to do to pass the time. Danny hummed to himself before quickly glancing over at the Decepticon medic, who was running one of his own experiments on a large table on the far side of the room. Danny didn’t see what it was, but he was too preoccupied with making sure his current work didn’t blow up in his face to go and check.

Danny focused back on his work, sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he lifted a human-sized beaker that the Cons had somehow acquired for him—he wasn’t sure he wanted to know where from—that had been filled with energon. Carefully, he poured one drop into a larger beaker of ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that he had provided from himself, of course. 

Danny tilted his head as the concoction hissed for a moment before the ectoplasm seemed to absorb the energon, charging it in some way. The ectoplasm started to glow brighter, and Danny could feel its power amplify slightly. He tilted the beaker under the light. “Interesting,” he hummed to himself.

On the other side of the room, Knockout glanced up from his own work, curiosity finally winning over. “What are you doing?”

Danny glanced up with a smirk. "I thought you didn’t care about my 'boring organic experiments.'"

Knockout crossed his arms over his chest with a scoff. “I just want to know what you are doing with that energon I graciously supplied to you."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Graciously supplied? You guys have an entire hangar full of the stuff."

Knockout was about to retort when a ping echoed throughout the room. They both glanced up at the monitor to see a message on the screen from Soundwave: ' Megatron: Approaching.'

Knockout’s optics widened. "Scrap," he muttered, his gaze darting between the human and the door.

Danny didn’t have time to prepare himself before Knockout snatched him up in one servo and turned to open the door of a cramped storage compartment filled with medical tools. 

Danny pulled back, incredulous. “I’m not a wrench you can shove into a toolbox!”

Knockout gestured toward the door. "Well, unless you want Megatron to crush you beneath his pede, I suggest you pretend to be one. The Nemesis has a strict no-pets-allowed policy!" 

Before Danny could argue further, Knockout shoved him into the compartment and slammed the door shut. Danny’s muffled protests were cut off, leaving him crammed inside with barely enough room to move. He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning back before suddenly remembering that he was half-ghost. Tuning to his invisibility and intangibility, he poked his head through the door to watch the scene unfold.

Knockout turned back around to face the door, his optics darting to Danny’s experiments still laid out on the counter. He grabbed a cloth and hastily tossed it over the setup, barely concealing the beakers and glowing ectoplasm before the medbay doors slid open with a hiss.

Megatron strode in, his bright optics cold and calculating, sweeping the room. Danny felt a shiver run down his spine. Knockout stiffened immediately, his usual confidence replaced with a strained smile. 

“Ah, Lord Megatron!” Knockout greeted, his voice a touch too high. “What brings you to the medbay today? Not another injury with the Autobots, I hope?"

Megatron stepped closer. “I was informed that repairs on several warriors have been delayed,” he said, his tone sharp. “What excuse do you have this time, Knockout?” He sounded almost bored. Danny felt slightly uneasy.

Danny hadn’t had the chance to be around Megatron often. The Cons constantly tried to keep him as far away from the warlord as possible for fear of what he might do.

Knockout’s smile faltered, and he scrambled for a response. “Delays? Oh, no delays, my lord. Simply… prioritizing! Yes, prioritizing critical systems over minor repairs. We need our strongest soldiers at optimal condition, after all.” 

Megatron’s optics narrowed, his gaze piercing. “You seem… tense, Knockout. Is there something you’re hiding?”

Knockout forced out a laugh, his plating visibly tightening. “Me? Hiding something? Perish the thought, My Lord. I’m merely… under pressure, as always. This medbay doesn’t run itself, you know.”

Danny shifted slightly, accidentally knocking against a metal tray. He cursed under his breath, glancing back up at the two of them. Megatron’s head snapped toward the noise, his optics narrowing. Danny’s eyes widened as he felt Megatron staring right at him. He pulled back slightly. The warlord took a step in the direction of the noise.

Knockout’s optics widened as Megatron got closer to Danny’s hiding place. He surged forward, putting himself between Megatron and the storage compartment. “Ah, that? Just some unstable tools rattling around. I’ve been meaning to fix that. Medbay maintenance is so unpredictable, wouldn’t you agree?”

Megatron paused, his optics boring into Knockout. The medic held his ground. Suddenly, Megatron looked off to the side, and Danny surmised he was listening to or reading a comm message. Finally, with a low growl, Megatron stepped back. 

“Unpredictable, indeed,” he said coldly. “I would expect nothing less from you, Knockout.” He started turning toward the exit. "Unfortunately, I have some matters to attend to elsewhere. We will have to finish this conversation at a later date."

Megatron left the medbay with heavy footfalls, and finally, the doors slid shut behind him, leaving the medbay in tense silence.

Knockout slumped against the storage unit, relief flooding his field as he let down his mental shields. He then spun around and slammed open the compartment, catching Danny as he tumbled out.

“That was close,” Danny said, brushing himself off.

Knockout glared at him. “Too close. Next time, try not to knock over half the medbay while you’re hiding.”

Danny smirked. "Aww, it’s like you care."

Knockout scoffed and turned away, his optics flicking over the human one more before heading back to his work.

-

Danny perched on Steve’s shoulder as the Vehcion mined at a vein of energon with a handheld drill. Sitting on Vehicon’s shoulders while they worked was now a common place you could find Danny. It was more fun than reading datapads in Starscream’s room anyway. Danny swayed a bit with Steve’s movements but didn’t fall once. The con was careful not to move too quickly, which was thoughtful.

Suddenly, Danny’s attention was drawn to F-368, one of the other Vehicons Danny didn't know too well. He knelt beside a large, hulking energon drill. One of the panels opened as the mech tinkered with the machine, muttering to himself as he worked. Danny’s curiosity flared. He hopped off Steve’s shoulder with practiced ease, landing on the rocky ground with a light thud. Steve glanced down at Danny to check if he was okay before Danny waved him off.

“What’s wrong with the drill?” Danny asked, appearing next to F-368. 

F-368 startled, visor tilting towards the tiny human next to him. After realizing who it was, he turned back to his work. “It’s… just a calibration issue,” he explained.

Danny got closer and put his hands against the drill's frame, trying to get a closer look at the mechanisms. “Huh, I can work on you guys all day, but this is still a loss to me. Can you show me how it works?”

F-368 hesitated, looking the human up and down again as if considering it is a good idea. A sigh echoed through his vocalizer as he started explaining. “The torque alignment in the additional rotator is off. I’m resetting the—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a mechanical sliding noise echoed from across the mine. The elevator platform was descending. “Scrap,” muttered one of the Vehicons, who immediately straightened up to look busy.

Roddie glanced around the mine frantically to try to spot Danny. He quickly saw Danny with F-368 and sent a com message: " F-368, hide the human.”

F-368 didn’t need to be told twice. He reached down next to him and snatched Danny up, standing at attention while pulling the human behind his back out of sight. 

“Human,” F-368 hissed, his voice low. “Stay still.” 

The elevator platform ground to a halt, and heavy footfalls echoed through the mine. Megatron entered the chamber, his massive frame looming over everyone.

Every Vehicon in the mine stood at attention, their movements stiff with fear. Even the ever-talkative Steve clamped his mouth shut.

F-368’s plating tightened as Megatron’s piercing optics swept over the mine. Danny, still hidden behind the Vehicon’s frame. He peeked out just enough to catch a glimpse of the towering warlord, and he immediately regretted it.

Megatron stalked forward, his gaze passing over the workers like a predator scanning for weakness. When his optics fell on F-368, the Vehicon tensed further, his servos twitching slightly, making Danny grip his fingers harder for support.

Megatron stopped.

His gaze bore into F-368, catching the slight stiffness in his frame and the way his shoulders seemed to hunch ever so slightly.

“Is there a problem, drone?” Megatron’s voice was low and dangerous.

F-368’s spark nearly seized. “N-No, Lord Megatron,” he stammered. “Just—focusing on recalibrating the drill, my lord. The—uh—output has been… inconsistent.”

Danny could feel the bot trembling slightly. He pressed himself tighter against F-368’s back, hoping to give him comfort in some way.

Megatron’s optics narrowed. He stepped closer, his massive frame looming over the smaller Con. Danny noticed how all optics were on them now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Roddie shift on his pedes and send a worried glance to his partner C-27.

The silence stretched, suffocating.

Finally, with a low growl, Megatron stepped back. “See that the issue is resolved. I expect no further delays.”

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” F-368 said quickly, his voice strained.

Megatron looked over a few more things in the mine before returning to the elevator. As soon as the sound of the elevator faded, the entire mine seemed to release a collective sigh of relief. F-368 slumped forward, his servos shaking slightly.

Danny jumped out of his servo and onto the drill again, looking over the equipment. “So… you were saying something about rotator alignment?” 

F-368 stared at him incredulously for a long moment before sighing and continuing his explanation. Danny noticed that his servos still shook slightly. He frowned at this, but let himself get absorbed in learning about the new equipment.

-

The flight back to the Nemesis was peaceful—something Starscream rarely experiences these days. The human had been in his Cockpit throughout the journey and had made some not-unwelcome company. Starscream was finally starting to enjoy the human's idle chatter—not that he would ever admit that out loud. 

The large outer doors opened and he landed in the Nemesis’ landing bay. Starscream transformed with his usual grace, stretching his wings after the journey. The movement was smooth, and Danny ended up in his servo.

Starscream glanced at the human in his palm and let out an amused hum; a rare sense of calm settled over him. “Another dull mission complete.” He rolled his optics.

“Yeah, well, let's submit these locations to Soundwave before he gets annoyed.” Danny smiled.

“I guess we should,” Starscream smirked but froze at the sound of heavy pede steps.

Megatron.

Danny must have heard it too because he muttered to himself with a sigh, “Great. This guy again.”

Starscream’s optics widened, and panic coursed through him. “Quiet!” He hissed.

Without another word, Starscream’s chest plate transformed open, and with a quick motion, he shoved the human into his subspace compartment. Danny let out a surprised yelp as he was unceremoniously tossed inside.

Just as Starscream snapped his chest plate shut, the doors across the bay slid open. Megatron’s looming figure entered the room. Starscream hiked his wings up on his back as a show of false confidence.

“Starscream,” Megatron said, his voice a low rumble. “Where were you today?”

Starscream forced his expression to neutral, though tension buzzed through every joint in his frame. “Ah, Lord Megatron. I was simply scouting potential energon deposits as per… Soundwave’s request.”

Megatron’s optics narrowed. He circled Starscream slowly. “And yet, you return after such a long time. Were you preoccupied with something?”

Starscream’s wings twitched. He maybe took a bit longer of a route than he should have. But that shouldn’t matter. “I was merely taking more detailed scans. I intended to report them for further analysis—”

“ Excuses, ” Megatron growled, cutting him off and stepping forward with a clenched servo.

Starscream stiffened. His plating felt too tight, and his processor was spinning with anxiety. What if Megatron tried to beat him right here, in the landing bay?

…With the fragile human in his subspace. 

Starscream's spark suddenly stalled. The seeker would survive anything Megatron threw at him. But would the human? 

Though Danny could phase through things, Starscream has seen it in the past. He just hoped that the organic would be smart enough to get away rather than try to defend Starscream. That would be the worst outcome. 

The human couldn’t possibly do anything to defend him, and anything Megatron would do to the Human or him after the fact would be horrific—worse than any punishment that Starscream would have endured. Maybe if Starscream could convince the human to leave, Starscream could distract Megatron.

Starscream paused, surprising himself with the fact that he had been considering the health of the human. What was getting into him?

All those thoughts, though, he could unpack at a later time when he was not standing in front of an easily triggered aggressive warlord. 

Starscream held his servos at his sides, keeping his tone even though his spark pulsed erratically. “I assure you, Lord Megatron, the information I gathered will prove valuable.”

Megatron leaned closer, his optics narrowing. “It had better be, Starscream. Do not disappoint me again. Or there will be consequences”

With that, the warlord turned and exited the landing bay, his footsteps reverberating through the chamber.

Starscream didn’t move until the doors slid shut behind Megatron. Nothing happened? That was... strange. Beyond unusual. He vented hard before, processor spinning. He was suddenly snapped out of it when he heard the metal clang of knocking against his chest plate. He quickly opened up his chest plate again.

Danny tumbled out into his waiting servo, rubbing his head. “Geez, a little warning next time, huh?”

Starscream ignored the human’s quip and brought him closer, his optics scanning Danny with uncharacteristic care. “Are you injured?”

Danny blinked, startled by the question. “Uh, no? I’m fine. A little rattled, but nothing major.”

Starscream sighed, his frame relaxing slightly as he inspected Danny one last time before setting him on his shoulder. “Good.”

The human tilted his head, frowning. “You okay? You seem… off.”

Starscream’s wings flicked, and he averted his optics. “You’re imagining things,” he said curtly. “Now, let’s get you out of here before something else happens.”

Danny didn’t push further, but his frown deepened as Starscream strode out of the bay.

-

Tumblr Master List

[coolingrosa]

I entirely agree with your points about dream XD although i believe they were six instead of eight…

Also not liking Neil is valid, but keep in mind, Neil only knows as much as dream tells him, since he’s practically banished from their village

and like you said, dream doesn’t comprehend or even know about most of their abuse. even if he did he’s unlikely to tell neil, since dreams whole reason for going into the woods was to hide his pain and crying

neil had yet to meet nightmare, and had no idea what dream was actually going through, i’m not sure why this makes him a horrible person? the people in that village caused him to lose his home, a limb, and killed his wife and young son, i don’t think he had any way of knowing before its to late…

i see people finding him uninteresting and i understand but im not really seeing how he’s a horrible person for not knowing what’s going on behind the scenes💔 he’s a heartbroken man who’s isolated and only connection is..this child 💔for all we know, he probably assumed dream had a caretaker, he may have even thought “nightmare” was dreams caretaker. whatever the case i don’t think it’s fair to label him this way, but i am always interested in your interpretations and i’d love to hear your thoughts on it /gen💚💚💚

I’m not saying he’s a horrible person- but as an adult, there were signs of abuse Dream definitely displayed and failed to notice. Children aren’t good at putting up a front. Hell- I’m sure Dream had to mention Nightmare’s constant injuries out of concern. If he didn’t, it would imply Dream didn’t put much mind to them, which could be true as he’s a kid, but I don’t think that’s very in character for who Dream is- especially since he blames himself for never doing anything. That blame does make it seem implied Dream knew something wasn’t right but didn’t have the words or the comprehension to wrap his head around it (or skull lol)

I know Neil’s past and isolation- but you’d think that would make him even more suspicious with how Dream talked about how much pressure he had on him, or how Nightmare never shows himself but always seems to be injured in Dream’s stories. Nightmare was abused BADLY. I do remember this having to be said due to fans saying it was just bullying, but adults would also partake in beating him. There would be many signs of Nightmare not able to play as much because he’s hurting- further isolating himself that would leave Dream likely frustrated and wanting to rant about how Nightmare “hates him” and oh so “loathes him” b.c he won’t play anymore. Neil, as an adult, should hear that and be suspicious. But he doesn’t do anything or look further into it.

He knows the villagers and how horrible they are, would likely hear from Dream slip-ups that make the picture more clear, but never nudged to meet Nightmare himself. He focused only on Dream rather than being curious about the other sibling. I also don’t think it’s in character for Dream to never talk about Nightmare and say who he is. Nightmare was his brother and the light of his life. His death haunts him so badly that he’s in pain for centuries after and constantly misses that little boy. The balance ties them together- and Dream wouldn’t miss a beat to talk about him. Especially since he’s so young, he’s bound to over share as soon as he feels safe.

Neil isn’t an abuser or on the same standing as the villagers. But there was indeed some neglect done there, no matter how you look at it. He isn’t THE CAUSE of the apple incident or Nightmare’s abuse, but he is a passive force that looked the other way instead of stepping in, leaving the boys alone even more. Just like Nim did.

So, no, I’m not saying he’s a horrible person. But he’s not a good father figure if he only focused on Dream and neglected looking into the obvious signs of abuse towards Nightmare that Dream missed. I don’t think Dream would want to be around someone who did that, or he wouldn’t feel as comfortable anymore. Dream isn’t a single package. He had a brother with him. I don’t see him ever fully trusting Neil again for not stepping in as the adult in the picture in favor of Dream, bc that’s exactly what the villagers had been doing to Nightmare leading up to his death.

He’s not a horrible person and can be sympathetic, but he sat by and did nothing in the face of abuse. That’s why I don’t like him. I get why others do, but I can’t. If he was written better with more concern towards both twins, then perhaps I would.

[thinkingthougths]

-Ghost x female reader

1595 words

Warnings- none in this chapter.

The haunting of a Ghost

Chapter 2

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, soldier.”

The sudden sound coming from behind you made you drop the empty glass in the sink as you let out a foul curse in surprise.

Beneath the kitchens archway stood sergeant Kyle Garrick with his arms crossed and an amused smirk on his dirty face.

“Fucking hell Gaz, you almost gave me a damn heart attack.” You hissed at him, holding a hand over your heart that’s about to jump out of your rib cage.

The nasty words you wanted to throw at him for sneaking up on you and giving you a fright simmered out when you took notice of the smudges of dirt decorating his face and camouflage uniform.

“It’s already been a week?” Your eyes took in his wearisome face as you mumbled out the question that mostly was to yourself.

You remember the night before he and a few others shipped out for a week long mission somewhere you weren’t ranked high enough to know. It was the night. The one where Ghost chose to begin haunting your every waking moment after he burned his hooded eyes into your soul.

Gaz shoved himself off of the wall he had put his weight on and sauntered over to one of the round dining tables near you. With a weary sigh, he plopped down onto a chair and scratched his week old scruff.

“A long ass week. Successful and no major injuries on the team, though.” There’s a croaky undertone in his voice, hinting that he hasn’t slept well enough for probably the entire week.

During the time you’ve spent on this base, you’ve only ever had one mission together with the sergeant, about a year ago or so. Vividly recollecting the cool demeanor he adapted the second your feet touched ground out from the helicopter. Gone was the lax and easygoing Gaz, instead an exceptional soldier revealed himself. It was an amazing thing to witness, only ever heard tales and buzz before of the adept super soldier he transformed into.

Outside of the war zone, you and Gaz became solid friends. Even though he ranked higher than you, he never treated you as inferior. Which was otherwise quite common with these macho soldiers.

Chewing on the inside of your cheeks, you wavered on whether you should bite the bullet and confess the thoughts that’s been with you since his small departing party. If his teammate and close friend had some sort of feelings towards you. May it be infatuation or downright disgust. The mere knowing would vehemently calm your nerves and perhaps make it a bit easier to be around Ghost again.

The clock ticks on the wall. It’s the witching hour, a time when supernatural beings are believed to be the strongest. You already have a ghost haunting you, all hours of the day.

Hastily fetching the glass and filling it up to the brim with water, you chug down half of it to moisten your throat that has now become not only dry from the earlier sweating but now also from trepidation from spilling what’s been nagging you for seven days.

Your voice fails you as a strangled squeal leaves your lips instead of actual words. Gaz, lost in his own post mission musings, takes no notice and instead determinedly slams a hand on the table, making it rattle from the unintentional force.

“I need a shower before I bloody croak from exhaustion.” He declares, forcing his battered muscles to rise from the wobbly chair. “And you, need to get back to your bed, young lady.” Nodding his chin towards you, waving a weak goodbye as he leaves the kitchen.

And that was it. He went back to his barrack and left you standing with your jaw slack.

You did pity him, recognizing the toll an intense mission takes on one’s mind and body. But you also resent him, just a tad, for not noticing the awkward behavior you clearly and unwillingly were presenting. You really wanted to get some goddamn answers and when the opportunity showed itself, you messed up and choked on water.

It seems you can’t catch a break this week, you discontentedly thought to yourself as you marched back to the barracks where your sweat drenched poor excuse of a bed awaits you.

-

At noon, much to your chagrin, training was scheduled, hand to hand combat taught by some skilled superior. There’s been talks of a new instructor that will train you, no name had been given so it’s going to be a complete surprise.

Stood outside the gyms door, murky light made its way through the frosted glass and blurred out everything for you except for dancing shadows of people moving around in there.

It was an unusually cold day for mid autumn. Frosty tendrils of winds grazed your reddened cheeks as you contemplated today.

You reached for the metal doorhandle and was met with tiny sparks of pain as the sharp cold metal seeped into your skin. Retracting your hand instantly, checking your palm as if you had been burned with ice.

A crow flew over you, cawing its screech and looking like the textbook sign of a bad omen.

It certainly felt like it, being warned by something otherworldly to heed the signs and not enter the gym. Instead run away as far as you can and save yourself from whatever horrible destiny may lay inside these trepidatious doors.

If only participation wasn’t needed.

Voices coming from behind the corner of the building pushed you into finally opening the heavy door with anxiety cursing through your warm blood vessels.

While inside, beelining it to the women’s locker room, you sweep your eyes along the people on the workout machines and training mats. Scanning each person inside to find out if he’s here.

The insane physique the behemoth of a man has doesn’t just magically appear. No, Ghost spend many hours in here, priming his mighty body and growing those thick muscles. His calamitous body and towering height is part of the reason he scares you, if he wishes he can easily crush your skull, pop it like a melon between his bulging biceps.

Nausea finds its way up your throat. To daydream about the countless way the lieutenant can end your life isn’t the smartest thing to do. Not when you’re about to experience sparring and similar holds Ghost can use to blow out your light.

An idea lights itself inside your brain. What if you shift the attention to another version of him. The second, and most unlikely, guess on why he acts differently with you.

That he fancies you. The outcome would at least leave you alive in the end, right? Actually, there’s a big chance you might not survive him in that scenario either.

You imagine what kind of immoral and depraved stuff Ghost must be into. There’s simply no way he prefer to be vanilla under the covers after the things he’s experienced in his somber life. A traumatic up-growing (heard once by a gossiping group passing by you) and a career as a cold blooded mercenary. No sane man survives such a chronicle of ungodly tribulations and comes out normal.

So, in a crestfallen conclusion, you’re dead meat either way.

Chatter from the girls in the locker room concludes you’re not the only one overstrung about today’s practice. One of them had apparently overhead a higher ranking and very experienced soldier is to be today’s instructor and that he’s going to absolutely break everyone’s spirit. Just great, it’s exactly what you needed, having your soul crushed by man screaming how shitty you are.

Persistence to surviving the military life you signed yourself off to a couple years back, when life was meaningless and you needed a firm hand to guide you, makes you a bit gutsy though. And that’s very much needed right now.

Proceeding to change into a black fitted T-shirt and matching gym leggings, you determinately march your way past the machines and land next to the other people here for the training. All standing in a neat row adjacent to the square training mat, patiently awaiting your instructor.

You’re pending between taking the opportunity of having all your frustrations let out by pretend fighting with the others or to tell a small white lie that you pulled a muscle during your last workout and are going to have to sit this one out.

The unusually high anxiety that’s been eating you up is putting you on edge, you can feel a phantom pair of dark eyes burning in the back of your head, it has you chewing on your nails and fidgety scanning the vast area. No one’s paying you any attention, no one’s even looking at you. It’s all in your head, you keep saying to yourself trying to make the queasiness disappear.

Some unnoticeable breathing exercises and you think your heart rate has gone down again. The thrum of the heartbeats is no longer clogging up your hearing.

You release a haggard sigh and unclench your tense fingers.

Just as you finally find some peace, you hear the door to the gym open up and all the former lively voices fades and machines slows down into a strained silence.

You don’t have to turn around and see who it was that just entered the building.

The raised hair on your arms and the rank smell of fear from the others reveals the persons identity. Not many can silence an entire room by just entering.

Ghost.

[adrift-in-thyme]

Okay, so for that request thing... LU; Time and Warriors; Brothers (all the way from the War of Eras); Warriors saving Time one way or the other and with fluff in the end. =) Thank You! ^.^

Tysm for the request!! I love writing these two so much

CW for blood and injury

————————————

His first memory of Warriors is warmth.

There are other things, of course, characteristics that accumulated over the time they spent together. Strong arms that held him close. Eyes the color of the sky, flecked with the royal blue of his scarf. Golden hair and a cocky grin. A wit quicker than his sword. A laugh that proclaimed his presence to the world, sang of victory, of mirth. 

All these attributes paint the picture of the man he came to love. His big brother.

But it is his warmth that Time recalls the most readily. Perhaps, because it is what he needed the most.

The memory does not arise from the first time that he met Warriors. But even now, it feels as though it was. 

Blood had coated the ground, run off of armor plates in rivulets like waterfalls, seeped into the earth that opened its maw to drink thirstily. Bodies had lain split open like spring blossoms, shining, sparkling beneath a midday sun. And he, he had fallen, all four feet of him crumpled to his knees in the heat-baked earth.

Trembling hands tore the mask from his face; a small stomach constricted, expelling breakfast into the charred blades of grass. Air did not come, though he gasped for it. He had drowned in the acrid scent of metal and the sharp taste of salt. He had expected to do so alone, as he always had done. 

But Warriors found him. He had run to him, caught him when the strength bled from his arms and he pitched forward, held him close while he struggled to breathe. And when the gates had opened and the tears had come – messy, gulped sobs that stuck in his throat and got in his nose and ran down his neck to pool in his collar – Warriors had remained. 

He had always remained. In the end, it was Time who turned away and walked through that portal. It was Time who left.

It was necessary. The world followed a natural order, one that he had already shattered far many times before. Still, he never dared to even think that he would subject someone to the same fate as him. 

And now, so many years and so much pain later, he is once again the one readying to depart. Though, he supposes this time it is a bit different. 

This time, he lacks the strength to walk away on his own two feet. This time, he lies on a bed of new spring grass and his own blood and gazes dully up into the sky. 

It was carelessness that landed him here. He had been slow to react, so distracted by the task of fending off the crowd of beasts headed for Warriors that he had not seen those sneaking up behind. Not until it was too late. 

The blade had torn through him as cleanly as a kitchen knife through fresh bread. Though he had whirled and struck the monster down, the damage was already done.

Now, he lies beside the corpse of his attacker, buffeted by waves of pain so fierce he can hardly keep his head above the surface. Blood pools in his throat. He chokes on it. 

“Sprite!” Footsteps thunder along the ground. Royal blue flits past his vision. A pale face leans close to his. “Sprite, look at me. Stay with me!”

Time lifts his hand. He is trembling, he realizes dimly. 

Pity. In his final moments, he wished to be strong.

He brushes frigid knuckles against a warm cheek. Tears slither down into his hairline.  

“It’s alright.”

It’s not. He doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to leave Malon a widow, Epona without a rider, his boys without a leader. He wants to be there when Navi returns at last. 

Despite everything, he has cemented a place for himself in this world. There are people who will remember when he is gone. That hurts far, far worse than the alternative he has coped with for so long. 

Warriors shakes his head. The calm that usually follows his every movement has vanished now. His attempts to retrieve it are failing miserably. 

It feels so much like before. 

“You aren’t going to die. Okay? You’re not. So, don’t you dare even think about it.” 

His voice is steely, but it quivers. Each word escapes like shards of shattered glass. He plunges a hand into his pouch.

Time knows by his expression alone that no potion can be found there. 

The captain swears harshly. For a moment, he is silent, eyes wildly scanning the area as though the answer to the problem lies amongst the scattered carcasses and gore.

Then, “Brace yourself. I’m going to carry you.” 

He hardly has time to comprehend, barely manages to hold back a cry, as he leaves the ground. 

“Where…” he murmurs as his head comes to rest against Warriors’ chest. It is still warm in these arms, still safe. He can feel the mad fluttering of the captain’s heart against his cheek. Guilt spikes within the murk of his mind, knowing it beats so quickly because of him.

“There’s a forest near here,” Warriors replies, voice as cutting as a blade, as soft as his scarf. “There are bound to be fairies there. They’re always drawn to you. When they sense that you’re injured, they’ll come.”

It is a predictably solid plan. Time lacks the strength to argue, regardless. As they rush forward, it is all he can do to stay alert. The world is nothing but a vague blur of differing colors now. He feels little else except pain. 

When they come to a stop, he hardly realizes it. When Warriors speaks, begging someone, somewhere to do “please, save my brother,” his only thought is regret that the captain must sound so very distressed.

But then, there is a flash of softest pink, glittering in the sky above him, the caress of a silken blanket. He falls, falls into the scents of spun sugar and forest rain, into the whispers of rivers and calls of night owls. 

He falls, and Warriors is there to catch him.

Time drags open his eye as the pain recedes, leaving only the fuzzy remembrance of itself behind. And there is his brother, tears coursing down his cheeks, blood smeared upon his brow, eyes bright against the shadows of the woods.

He blinks, slowly, still struggling to surface from the depths he had plummeted into.

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles, squinting to keep Warriors’ face clear in his vision. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Don’t cry for me. I’m not gonna die.”

Warriors makes an odd sound. It seems conflicted over whether it wants to be a sob or a laugh. 

“You idiot,” he gasps, and hugs Time to his chest. He smells of battle and blood. “Sprite, you idiot. Don’t you ever put me through that again.”

The world is beginning to regain color now, in spontaneous bursts that crawl across his vision. Time watches it from where his head rests on Warriors’ shoulder. And with what little strength he has regained, he pulls his brother close.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, and he means it, from the depths of his heart he means it. “I won’t leave you again, big brother. I promise.”

The noise that erupts from Warriors is almost certainly a sob now. When he begins to shudder with the force of them, Time only holds him tighter. 

[imnotuptight]

@ofherosoffire

{I couldn't help but to smile softly as I heard the interaction between Ronnie and Cisco. That was just the kind of person Ronnie was... He always went out of his way to look out for others. I knew Cisco blamed himself for me losing Ronnie... After all, he was the one who shut and locked the door of the particle accelerator. I remember being angry about it when I went to that door; determined to go inside to get Ronnie out, but Cisco refused to open it. I lost the man I love that day because Cisco wouldn't open the door. Sure, looking back on it, I knew Cisco was looking out for me. He knew Ronnie would throw us both out if we had unlocked that door and tried to enter, but even in knowing that, it didn't make the reality of losing Ronnie any better... I found myself lost in thought, but quickly returned to reality when I saw Ronnie pass out. His vitals were through the roof and his fever as rapidly rising} Ronnie! {I cried out in worry for the man I love} No! Ronnie, wake up, please! {I quickly grabbed something to lower his temperature and I injected him with it, while Barry rushed into action; gathering up some cooling blankets and tossed them onto Ronnie to lower his temperature} "His body is rejecting his human form, I think... Firestorm is trying to take over." {Cisco said aloud as he tried to talk Barry and I through with what was happening to Ronnie} How do we fix him? Tell me what to do to help him, Cisco. {I requested in panic. I was on the medical side of things... If it comes down to illness treatment, tending to injuries, or anything medically related, you could count on me, but the science stuff, that was on Cisco and Barry, so I had to put all of my trust in him now} "What about a quantum splicer?" {Cisco said aloud as he looked between Barry and I} "Maybe it will combat the firestorm matrix from overtaking him, and allow him to separate from the matrix and into his human form when he wants and need to." {Cisco further explained before rushing off to the lab to see if he had what he needed to build whatever this thing was that he was talking about. In the meantime Barry and I worked diligently in helping to get Ronnie's temperature lowered}

@ofherosoffire

{The particle accelerator… The thing that I naively believed would be the jump start to my career as a scientist, but in reality, it was the source of nothing but loss, regret, and heartbreak, in my life. The night the particle accelerator was turned on, everything started out as we had planned, and in a split second, it all went downhill from there. It became unstable, exploded, and as a result, a lot of people’s lives were completely turned upside-down. From the scientific perspective, my career and reputation were tarnished. None of that mattered to me though, because that was the day I lost the man I love… The man I had planned to spend the rest of my life with… My Ronnie. I thought with tear-filled eyes as I left the coffee shop, where I met Iris to discuss her findings on the meta known as, “The Burning Man.” For the last several weeks, I felt like someone had been following me. Then during a brief visit to the mall, I caught a glimpse of the impossible in a reflection of my car window as I approached my vehicle in preparation to leave the mall} Ronnie… {I murmured out in surprise, but as I no sooner turned around to face the familiar reflection in my window, he was gone; leaving in a burst of fire, of all things. I actually thought my head and mind were playing tricks on me… or at least I did until I saw Iris post something in her blog about, “The Burning Man.” I knew the thought of Ronnie still being alive sounded impossible, but look at what happened to Barry, and the other meta-humans, as a result of the particle accelerator explosion, so who’s to say Ronnie didn’t survive the explosion too. I thought optimistically as I left Jitters with my file folder of information Iris shared with me in hand. No sooner unlocking my car though when I felt a rush of coldness and ice brush past me; forming a thick layer of ice around my car. Slowly turning in my now fearful stance before coming face to face with Leonard Snart} “Caitlin Snow… You have to see the irony of a name like Caitlin /Snow/ and being attacked by “Captain Cold” with his cold gun. Too poetic to pass up, when you think about it.” {Leonard Snart murmured out with his dry tone, but on the off chance that he was so distracted by the sound of his own voice, I decided to take this opportunity to make a run for it. E for effort, I thought to myself as I heard the whirring sound of his cold gun chime out once more, just before I yelped when my feet were unexpectedly met with an icy ground below me. A wince, groan, and a pained yelp following as I slid on the ice; falling to the ground with a hard thud as my feet lost their grip, due to the icy surface beneath me. What made matters worse was when I fell, the file Iris had given me on, “The Burning Man” slid out of my hand and then under my car} Ow… {I murmured out in pain as I laid on the icy cold surface on the ground as Leonard stood over me with a smirk} “Try that again, and it won’t be the ground hit with the cold gun.” {He threatened before adding} “Let’s make a deal… If you cooperate with me, you might just survive this, with all of your limbs fully intact, but if you try to run again, I’ll turn you into an ice sculpture, one limb at a time. Do I make myself clear?” {He said in a droned tone, but before I could respond, he placed electric tape across my mouth to force my silence, lifted me up from the ground, and then tossed me over his shoulder; carrying me toward the back of his van and then tossing me in the back} “I told you I would pull it off without having to cause her physical harm… Well, long term harm, at least, but it’s better than nothing. Now zip tie her hands and feet, so we can get out of here. Part one of of plan is officially in motion, Mick.” {Snart aired out to his partner in crime before walking away from the back of the van. His partner muttering inaudibly under his breath as he used zip ties on my hands and feet; keeping me from any chance of freeing myself and getting the hell out of here. I thought to myself as I laid motionless and afraid in the back of their van; watching Mick leave the van before he forcefully shut and locked the door behind me. Moments later the van started, and within a short time, it moved into life; feeling every bump and turn as they sped down the roadway toward wherever it was they were taking me to as their apparent hostage… Now I just wondered what it was they wanted with me. I thought to myself as the fear continued building within me. The only hope I had now was that Barry and the team, or someone, at least, would find me and come to my rescue, before it was too late}

[brutal-nemesis]

ok siiince you asked for requests for demon boy castys… the tongue cut out + gag seemed like such an adorable situation for him <33

Giving you that and a little extra because I wanted More Whump 💕

←Previous - Castys & Terror AU Masterlist - Castys Masterlist - Next→

Ingredients: manhandling, a lot of unsexy noncon touching, slight dehumanization, partial nudity

Castys wasn’t sure if he slept at all that night, but after what felt like an eternity, Neteri reappeared wearing different clothes under her white coat.

“Good morning, Castys!” She sat on one of the stools from last night and motioned for him to do the same. “Get up, I’ve got wonderful news to share!” 

Castys opened his mouth to retort, but he found he couldn’t form the words. His tongue was still…he looked away, swallowing, and sat up while remaining on the floor. 

“You’re going to have to start listening to me, you know. Because,” she broke out into an excited smile, “I get to keep you!” Upon seeing Castys’s glare, she just laughed. “I figured you wouldn’t be excited, but trust me,” she held up a finger, “you’ll be much better off in my hands than if you were sold as a pet to some bored aristocrat. I’m sure they’d beat that personality right out of you, and I don’t plan on doing anything of the sort. As long as you cooperate with my experiments, you’re free to be yourself. You can even hate me as much as you like!” Castys raised an eyebrow at her final statement. He’d see about that.

After rummaging in her bag for a moment, she pulled out a little silver medal and moved to crouch next to him on the ground. “Hold still now,” she ordered as she started to bring it towards his neck. Castys wasn’t sure what was happening at first, but after a moment, it clicked, and he decided he’d rather not listen, leaning back. Neteri just sighed. “You’re not off to a very good start.” Well, it’s not like he wanted to be.

Suddenly, Neteri changed tactics, shoving him down on his back and straddling his waist before he could try to sit up, pinning his arms down with a knee on each elbow. Castys cried out, the wounds on his back from the whip lighting up in pain, and that combined with her full weight on him kept him from moving. He bared his teeth as her hand came closer, daring her to get within range, but she just curled her other hand in his hair, yanking it back and keeping his head firmly in place. Great. He was once again powerless against this tiny lady, forced to keep still as she attached that dumb little tag to the collar and sealed the metal shut with the same spell that kept him from taking it off.

“There,” she said once it was on. She tapped the tag, cold against his throat. “Property of Neteri Crozien. Whether you like it or not. Now,” she grabbed his chin, “are you going to let me put some new restraints on you or should I call the guards to manhandle you? Your resistance is pointless and only delaying the inevitable, exactly like every other time. Just nod if you’re going to cooperate.”

Did he want to get manhandled again? Not particularly. He’d had more than enough of being grabbed and held still while chains were taken off and put on. And it’s not like he was resisting out of pride or something stupid, he just fought back when it was something he really didn’t want to happen. Which was most things in the past couple days, but, hey, if new restraints meant he got to leave this boring-ass cell, he was okay with it. Her grip on his hair had loosened enough to allow him a small nod, so he gave one, praying she’d get the fuck off of him now.

Neteri smiled brightly at his cooperation. “Great! Although,” she got off of him and stood, thinking, “maybe just stay laying down. I don’t really trust you not to try and run at the moment, so just roll on your stomach and I’ll take the chains off.” Castys sighed in annoyance but complied, gritting his teeth as his weight went from his injured back to his burned chest. The cold stone floor felt a little good on it, at least, but it was a small consolation as he watched Neteri walk back over with a key and a coil of rope. 

She squatted down and-fuck, that was a knee on his back, not her full weight but enough to make him gasp in pain. Paying him no mind, Neteri unlocked the manacles around his wrists, and he could barely enjoy the feeling of not having anything around them for a moment, just wishing she’d tie him up and get the fuck off of his back. It didn’t feel like she was going particularly slow as she pulled his arms behind him and wound the rope around his wrists, but the seconds still dragged by at an agonizing pace. 

Finally, she finished tying the knot and took her knee off of his back as she stood. “There we go!” Castys just groaned, rolling on his side. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s not like I was hurting you.” Castys’s glare deepened, and he awkwardly used his bound hands to pull up the back of his shirt enough to expose the bandages wrapped around his torso. Neteri’s jaw dropped slightly, and she just stared at him for a second before worry took over her features.

“I…I’m so sorry I…I completely forgot. That you were hurt. I wouldn’t have done that if I remembered.” Her head hung slightly. “I’m really sorry, Castys.” Her apology seemed genuine, but how the fuck did she forget he got whipped and branded yesterday? She looked back at him again. “Let’s just hurry and get you to your new home so I can heal you up, okay?” Wait, new home? She was taking him somewhere else? At first the idea was scary, but then Castys remembered that he’d never particularly loved living in the castle, so whatever. It was probably just going to be a different prison cell, anyway.

With ridiculous difficulty and a lot of groaning in pain, he managed to sit up, using his elbows to help him do it since his hands were kind of useless. By the time that was done, Neteri was standing above him with…a chain? He was already tied up what the fu-no. No fucking way. He growled as her hands moved towards his neck, baring his teeth once more.

“Seriously, Castys? You said you weren’t a dog yesterday, but you sure are acting like one.” Yeah, sure, whatever, but since he couldn’t fucking talk, he was forced to resort to other means of protest. He honestly wasn’t entirely sure where the growling came from himself, and, yeah, it was a little animalistic, but that didn’t mean he deserved to get put on a leash. “This is happening either way, so just give it up already.” Her hand was moving closer, closer, the clasp at the end of the chain open, ready to-

Once again, instinct took over, and before he knew it, his teeth were buried in the flesh of her hand.

Neteri cried out, jerking her hand back and dropping the leash. “Lyte! Seriously?!” She winced as she dabbed the wounds with what smelled like the stingy liquid from yesterday and used her magic to close them up, during which Castys couldn’t help but smile smugly. Once she was done healing, she pulled on her leather gloves and grabbed a couple rolls of bandages from her bag. “I figured you were going to be difficult to keep in line, but this is just ridiculous.” Castys took pride in being ridiculous, so he’d take the compliment. What he didn’t want to take were the consequences of his actions, but he was a little bit helpless at the moment, so there wasn’t much he could do as Neteri shoved a wad of bandages in his mouth and tied a strip around his head to keep him from spitting it out.

“There. You’re just about the only person who’d need to be gagged when they can’t talk.” Castys just looked away, feeling his face grow hot as she clipped the leash to the collar. She gave it a tug, but he didn’t budge. Now he was just resisting out of spite. Neteri’s expression grew even more frustrated, and it looked like she was about to say something before she stopped herself and took a deep breath, calming herself down. She crouched down to look Castys in the eye.

“Look, I’ve been going about this the wrong way. I hurt you when I didn’t mean to, so I’m not going to punish you for biting me. We’ll just call it even.” She paused and held up a finger. “The gag stays until we reach our destination, though. Just for safety’s sake. But I’ll tell you something about my plans for you. If you come with me, you’ll have a tongue again by the end of tomorrow. Does that sound good?” 

Castys could be stupid and stubborn and petty and shake his head and sit here and then end up getting dragged off to wherever, or he could just suck it the fuck up and get the ability to complain back. Complaining would be nice...After weighing his options he nodded, and Neteri broke into a smile. “Good. Let’s go, then.” She helped him stand, and she seemed to do her best not to pull on the leash as they walked along. Soon enough, they had reached the teleportation stone, and Castys…he couldn’t help but be a little excited to leave this stupid place. He knew he was a fucking prisoner now, but he was basically a prisoner in his old life, too, minus the chains and plus a comfy bed. 

At least he was going somewhere else.

The other palace was pretty cool, at least, the short glimpses he got before he was pulled into the lower levels, down halls and through doors until they arrived at his lame little prison cell. It did have a bed, though, so that was an upgrade. And a private bathroom?! Why did the prison cells in his family’s dungeon have to suck so much ass? He only spent two nights there, but still. If he was ever in charge of a dungeon, he would make sure it was at least a little comfy in case he got thrown in there.

Neteri clamped a manacle around his ankle, which was whatever, because that meant she untied his wrists and took that stupid leash off. And then, true to her word, she healed his wounds. The brand scarred, of course, which was…the symbol was kind of cool, but since it meant he was “property” or whatever he wasn’t too excited about it being on his chest for the rest of his life. At least shirts existed.

After that was done, Neteri instructed him to clean himself off and left him alone for a bit. He wandered into the bathroom, chain clinking with every step, and paused in front of the mirror. He looked pretty much the same as always, just a little more tired and blood-covered than usual. Oh, and the stupid collar around his neck. Neteri was fucking delusional, it didn’t look the slightest bit “cute” on him, it just looked…He didn’t want to see it anymore.

Once he was clean and dressed in some slightly comfier clothes, Castys tried out his new bed. It was nowhere near as nice as his old one, but it was way better than the floor, so he’d take it. Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Neteri poked him in the face.

“I’m back, Castys, get up and take your shirt off.” Castys sat up, but didn’t take his shirt off, instead just crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. His wounds were healed, so what the hell did she need it off for? “Come on, I’m just going to examine you and take some measurements. Nothing painful, I promise.” Not painful, sure, but probably still not pleasant. Even so, he didn’t really have much choice but to listen, so he pulled off his shirt and stood, hoping this wouldn’t involve too much touching.

His hopes were in vain.

It started off fine, her measuring his height and a few other things with a strip of leather, but then she started running her hands all over him, poking at him, moving him this way and that. He couldn’t help but flinch every time since he hated being touched, and Neteri was clearly getting annoyed by it. His full-body recoil after she ran a hand down his spine was the final straw. Wordlessly, she clamped a manacle around one of his wrists before shoving him down onto the bed. He tried to stand back up, but she basically fucking tackled him, pinning him down on his back for the second time today. And, to top it all off, she managed to loop the chain around the top of the cot before cuffing his other wrist, leaving him pretty much helpless.

“I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just kept still,” Neteri sighed, seeing his frustration. Well, it was a little fucking hard to be still when someone who’s basically a stranger is running their hands all over your bare skin. He considered trying to kick her, but she’d probably just chain him up more and keep going, and he’d rather this bullshit just be over with already.

Being chained down on his back somehow made this infinitely worse. There was nowhere to run, nothing he could do, Neteri looming over him as she put her hands all over him, touching his chest, his brand, squeezing his arms, grabbing his chin, pulling at his eyelids, gloves on now, hands in his mouth, poking at the stump of his tongue, feeling his teeth, gripping his hair to turn his head from side to side, his skin was crawling, crawling, his muscles tense, breaths coming short, fast, he just wanted her to get off stop touching him examining him taking notes reducing him down to just numbers just a body not a person not someone who got boundaries or personal space no just someone who gets touched and touched and touched-

“Castys! Hey, hey, just breathe.” Neteri was standing over him now, fiddling with the cuffs on his wrists, releasing him. Castys hadn’t even realized he was hyperventilating, but he tried his best to calm down as he scrambled to the other end of the bed, as far away from her as he could get. Neteri watched him sadly. “I…I was making you uncomfortable, wasn’t I? I’m sorry, I just thought you were trying to be a nuisance.” No shit he was fucking uncomfortable, how the hell did she misread that?! At least she looked upset by this, but it was way too late for that. Castys still felt like there were bugs crawling all over him, and he could feel his heart pounding out of his chest. 

Neteri reached out a hand in a misguided attempt to comfort him, but after seeing how Castys flinched and bared his teeth, she backed off. “Okay, okay, I’ll leave you alone. Well, I’ll go get you something to eat, and then I’ll leave you alone. Until tomorrow, and then you’ll have a tongue again and you can complain all you want and yell at me, okay?” Castys would rather never have to see her stupid face ever again, but that’s not how this was gonna work, so he just nodded silently, not relaxing until she’d left the room. 

He almost wanted to take a shower again, just to wash the feeling of her hands off, but it was starting to subside, so he just pulled his shirt back on and hid under the covers. What was that, exactly? He knew he didn’t like being touched, and he’d never let anyone do it remotely that much, so maybe being touched for so long in such an invasive way had been too overwhelming. Castys had thought he’d be a little tougher than this, since the thought of pain didn’t really scare him, but apparently being pinned down and touched was too much for him? Kind of…pathetic. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if he could talk, protest, fight back a little bit with his words. Maybe he’d be okay once he could talk again.

He just hoped Neteri wasn’t lying about giving him his tongue back.

Castys Cult: @as-a-matter-of-whump​ @blackrosesandwhump @fanmanga1357-blog​​ @thehopelessopus​ @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@hearse-song​ @muddy-swamp-bitch @whumpasaurus101 @yet-another-heathen​​ @galaxywhump​ 

@starnight-whump​ @his-unspoken-words​ @misspelledwitch​ @suspicious-whumping-egg​ @pumpkin-spice-whump 

@painsandconfusion @i-can-even-burn-salad​​ @befuddled-calico-whump​ @whumpinggrounds​ @whump-queen​

@whumpedydump

[saturnniidae]

Modern au with a strong theme of Hiccup coping with his leg better than all the people around him and it's low key pissing him off

[hanzajesthanza]

also regis swearing at stygga is so meaningful to me because he swore over milva’s dead body and also in front of angoulême (and assumedly cahir too)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[giantkillerjack]

Anastasia the Musical sucks so bad. They really said "We're gonna cut the best song from the movie - just axe the absolute banger that is 'In the Dark of the Night' - because we are being SERIOUS and GROWN-UP now. We are A Big Historical Realism Musical Now. This is FOR REAL, okay!? We don't have a SILLY villain like Rasputin! We have Gleb! [Please Just Clap.] We are HISTORICALLY GROUNDED. -- Anyway, here's a musical unironically glorifying the Russian monarchy~~ 💖😌💖😌💖😌💖"

[whatudottu]

POV you don’t listen to your psychiatrist and go on to audition for reality TV and get in-

The only other time I have drawn Total Drama characters are in the ancient texts of old sketchbooks and long lost files, who knew that I would draw Mike and Cameron after all these years?

Between kickboxer Mike, gymnast Svetlana and survivalist/explorer Manitoba (and Vito who uses the body to push people around) the body should probably have a little more muscle on them than the show depicts, even if it’s a lean string bean physique-