#arrow optics

[jesprotech]

Open?!?CLOSED?!?And HALF?!?What is that? Circuit - Breakers part 2/10 #j...

Do you still remember what circuit breakers are? Have a look at this one to find that out! Cheers everyone!

[theflashjaygarrick]

Okay I've thought a lot about how I would do the Tom King Best of the Best style Black Canary vs. Shiva fight (whilst keeping as much of the original idea in tact).

Main thing is that I would change the training line up. In his version you have Wildcat (Ted Grant), the original Black Canary (Dinah Drake), and Batman training her. And while I love her JSA links getting a shout out I have no idea why Batman is there except for the fact that both King and DC think Batman has to be everywhere.

If I was to redo it I would have the lineup instead be:

Dinah Drake and Ted Grant

Connor Hawke

Cassandra Cain

So partially this is just because Connor Hawke and Cassandra Cain are two of the best hand-to-hand fighters in the DC universe who have previously and fought and held their own against Lady Shiva.

But also they also have more thematic significance. Along with Grant and Drake represent the key superhero groups that Dinah has been part of and shaped throughout her superhero career. Drake and Grant representing the JSA who raised her. Connor Hawke representing the Arrow Family she shaped. And Cassandra Cain representing the Birds of Prey she co-founded and her future as a hero.

(She has also been JLA/JLI and you could fit Batman in for that, but I would argue that she is the premiere hand-to-hand fighter of the main JLA cast over him)

Not only does this provide a good showcase of different chapters Dinah's story, but it also highlights the importance of her role in the DC universe as a teammate and often a team leader. Also it allows the people whose lives and heroic careers she's shaped to support her in her literal fight for the top billing as a solo act as she strives to become DC's Best of the Best.

[megcutspaper]

Optical illusion.

[moltengarnet]

Cube Order , 2024

Drew this as a sort of response to my other piece called Main Cubes.

[velovw]

How would OW characters love you?

(Ft. Reaper, Genji, Ramattra, Hanzo, Venture and Cassidy)

A/N: It's been quite a while, but I'm happy to share a little thing I've written.

Reaper

At first, Gabriel would refuse the idea of being in love. There was no way the thing he had become was deserving of love - nor did you deserve to be with anything like him. The confession would probably come from you, or the feelings you two have for each other would simply be locked away and forgotten with time. Unsure touches, hesitancy in communication would plague your relationship early on, leading to frustrating fights and time spent apart.

Gabriel had spent so long being Reaper, that he had forgotten how to treat another gently, softly. Years of being one of Talon’s obedient and ruthless weapon left him scarred, almost a husk of the man he one day was. Patience, lots of it, would be needed to build a healthy relationship with him. With time, he would slowly start to mimic the actions you did to him - learning from you on how to love and be loved - this could lead to Gabriel learning to love you just the way you want him to.

Not big on romantic gestures, and doesn’t like PDA. He has an underlying fear that if anyone were to find about his weak spot for you, it would mean harm your way.

Genji

A cupid 's arrow.

It would not take him long to recognize the emotions he was experiencing, as the excitement and exhilaration of a new love were familiar to him due to his youth. The anxiety and giddy feelings were difficult to overlook or ignore. He would not hesitate to express his feelings, as he was quick at noticing if someone reciprocated his affections based on their reactions to his affections. He was accustomed to this aspect of a relationship and would confidently touch and remain close to the person he was interested in whenever possible.

Wouldn’t be able to hide your relationship, almost always bringing you up in a conversation. Excitedly calling you his partner.

Due to his past, Genji would have an underlying anxiety about performing well as a partner. He was good at sweet talk, enough to make your heart flutter - but when it came down to serious conversations and fights, he would almost shut down. In the past, whenever these things happened, he would simply dump his past partners and move on - but he didn’t want to do that now. So he would be awkward, asking you what he could do to amend the wrongs and fix the situation. He would heavily depend on you to guide him in that way.

Ramattra

Love? How futile.

He had no time for such weak emotions, no time to spend worrying over your safety when you were a human - the kind he hated with his very being. No. Ramattra only spent his attention and utmost care towards the cause he believed in.

Or that's what he desperately wanted to believe.

Every word, every moment would be recorded through his optics and stored forever in his hard-drive. Ramattra’s touches sometimes felt… ghostly. As if he was afraid of breaking you. But he was always sure to impose his threatening aura around strangers.

But the amount of stress his system felt when he saw you in the middle of the battlefield, how he was reluctant to end your life right where you stood, proved it all to him that he was *wrong*. Ramattra would take what felt like a lifetime to confess, seeing you sick and injured pushed him to it - the reminder of your mortality severely affecting him. Would try to do everything at once one day, showcasing his innocent and lack of experience in *love*.

A silent reminder of your importance.

Hanzo

Throughout the most part of Hanzo's life, there were only two things he felt the most. The bitter regret and the pain of tomorrow. Losing everything came at a great cost and it shined clearly when you met Hanzo for the first time, when you tried to befriend him - the look in his eyes. Hanzo would avoid you emotionally once he feels… different. Part of him knows what he feels but another one denies it with all of his strength. Not for pride, simply because he's afraid of losing once again.

A wall to talk to. His indifference at the start would drive you crazy, driving you away until he finally realizes how much more empty he feels with your absence. Even so, does a small act of servitude by giving you your favorite food - a small attempt to see if you still care for him. Just enough so he can *try* and allow himself to feel the gentle feeling of love.

Small smiles your way, brushing your hand with his while passing by. All small but mean so, so much for Hanzo. There is no shyness, just gentleness, and no fear of showcasing such feelings in front of others.

Venture

Spending most of their life researching and excavating did really not leave any space for romance. Venture would be quick to accept the feeling, the rush of adrenaline and giddy feeling quickly taking over their mind as they realized they liked you. It would be obvious to anyone around them. The way their eyes would be searching for you in the room, quickly asking someone if they've seen you and when they do finally see you - the biggest smile they can muster.

Your name would be mentioned by them every chance they get.

A confession would take mere days, and if you weren't totally sure about them - they'd at least hope you'd let them take you out on dates so you can get to know each other better. Small trinkets of their affection would be given to you, crystals and rocks being the main source of it, secretly hoping you'd try and find the meaning of them.

Their only flaw is being overly excited about the feeling, sometimes overly romanticizing you and getting disappointed when you don't reach their standards.

Cassidy

Smooth.

Cassidy would recognize the blush that would dust his cheeks when you were around, how he seemed to want to impress and sweet talk you. That would be his way of gaining your favor slowly, calling you sweet nicknames and trying to charm you with his words. A small brush of his shoulders on yours, opening doors for you and tipping his hat when he passes by - all small acts that are meant to sweep you off of your feet.

A relationship would bloom slowly, as he would like to ride out the early fluttering feeling of love. Going through all the small showcases such as holding your hand, gifting you something meaningful before taking you out on a date and asking you two to finally be oficial. To everyone else around you, it was clear that Cassidy was courting you - and no one else dared to attempt anything. Whispers of his past holding them back on doing so.

Cassidy’s flaw would be being too warm or too cold. Either giving you hurtful but helpful advice, or comforting and unhelpful ones. It would solely depend on his mood, but you can always tell when he doesn't really wanna make decisions. Sometimes he just wants to exist, to let himself breath without any worries.

[gardens-light]

Shooting Stars

Since breaking into K.S.I, more questions than answers were being raised. It seemed like things were becoming more unclear, than they originally were. And in the midst of all the chaos, the secret (or not so secret) romance between you and Optimus begun to build. With your heart and his Spark, yearning for one another. The pair of you slowly got to a point, where you could only resist temptation for so long...

Content: Course Language. Events takes place in Transformers- Age of Extinction (no spoilers.) Fluff followed by NSFW smut. (This chapter is basically pure smut, as my head has been in the gutter for the past week.) Optimus Prime x F/Human reader.

Inspired by the song: Airplanes- B.O.B

Word Count: 2,800.

Sparkmate Series: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 Part 7 (End)

Two Days Later

With the nights growing colder, the thin blankets that Cade found only did so much. The stained-glass windows of the cathedral no longer seemed beautiful- but more of an annoyance, as the chill air would sweep through the cracked glass.

And in addiction of Cade's snoring, sleep seemed impossible to come. A heavy sigh escaped your lips, eyes rolling a little as you grew bored of staring up at the ceiling, for who knows how long by now.

Sitting up and rubbing your temples, trying to allow your eyes to adjust to the dimly lit darkness. As you carefully exited out of your sleeping bag, trying to disturb the others as little as possible. Hands running along the cold brick walls, while you made your way towards the main hall.

Nerves crawled up your back, as a low rumble echoed through the main hall. Your breath hitching slightly with each step, stopping whenever the low rumble slightly peeked in volume. Moonlight lazily shined through the windows, as the overcast sky slowly cleared.  

It’s just Hound. Your thoughts assured, while a suttle sigh of relief left your lungs.

The muscles in your body slightly relaxing, as the sight of the Autobot snoring away teased a smile upon your lips. Tip-toing towards the makeshift table and quietly making a protein shake. A steady breath returned to you, as the dim darkness soon grew on you, making your surroundings somewhat more comfortable.  

While taking a few sips from the drink, your head tilted to the side a little, as a familiar shadow fell across the table from outside. Curiosity stirred your thoughts, causing your body to carefully tread towards a large hole in the wall.  

“I thought it might have been you.”  

Optimus’ optics fell onto you, a small smile spreading across his faceplate. Watching you carefully climb over the lose bricks, with your drink in hand. You approached the mechanical giant, as he sat upon the ground. Leaning against the solid wall of the cathedral. 

He felt your eyes study his features, “are you alright, Optimus? You look tired.” 

“I’ll be alright, Sweet Spark.” His soothing voice assured, “you do not need to worry about me.-” 

“But I do, Optimus.” You shyly admitted, walking towards the gazebo, that still had string lights and fairy lights surrounding it. “Especially what you said earlier.”  

You watched his optics quickly avoid your questioning gaze. His helm lowering slightly, as guilt played on his processors and slightly squeezed his Spark. You wasn’t supposed to hear that...      

“’What did you mean? ‘You’re done fighting for humans.’ You didn’t mean that... did you?” 

“Y/N...” Optimus sighed, hesitating before looking back at you. “How many more of my kind must be sacrificed to atone for your mistakes?” 

“What do you think ‘being human’ means?” you questioned. Another arrow of guilt struck Optimus’ core, as his audio receivers detected the underlying hurt within your voice. “That’s what we do, we make mistakes. But sometimes the most amazing things comes from those mistakes.” 

You softly bit your bottom lip, fingers playing with the cup as you took a moment.  

“When I fixed you... it was for a reward.” The words tasted like poison upon your tounge, as regret slowly squeezed your heart. But at the same time, a sensation of relief washed over you. Like a long bottled-up secret could finally break free. “That was it. That was the only reason why. For the money.” 

Optimus slowly turned his attention back onto you, his expression softening as his optics watched a single tear roll down your cheek.   

“And that was me making a mistake. But without it, you wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t be here.”  

Reaching out for him, a slight ease relaxed your aching heart as Optimus still welcomed your touch. A loving sigh escaping him, as your delicate fingers ran the back of his servo.   

“So... even if you have no faith in us, all I’m asking is you do what Dad taught me and Tessa. Look past all the junk and see the treasures.” Your hand ran up towards his wrist, gently pulling out your iron ring from under his metal plates. “You need to have faith, Prime, in who we can be.” 

Optimus’ free servo curled into a relaxed fist, gently using the knuckle of his index digit to brush away a tear from your cheek. His touch feathered down your body, fingertips tracing each and every curve which the Autobot has now memorized. Carefully wrapping it around your waist, picking you up and bringing you closer to his height.     

You were just about to say something, but Optimus’ lips lightly pressed against your own. Giving you a passionate kiss, as both closed your eyes, melting into each other's embrace. The cup slipped from your hand, landing upon the ground with a small shatter, while you wrapped both arms around the Autobot’s neck.  

“Forgive me, my Sweet Spark.” Optimus pleaded, his kiss trailing down your neck.  

“I-I just don’t want to lose you.” you turned your head to the side, giving him more room to kiss your neck.  

“You could never lose me-” 

The sound of an airplane's engine roared above, causing Optimus to briefly break away. As you both looked up at the night sky, seeing the lights from the metal wings.  

“If only wishes could be made upon airplanes, like we do with shooting stars.” You sighed. Only to chuckle a little, that sounded a little corny.  

“Why? What would you wish for?” 

Your eyes returned to Optimus’ optics, “that we could have a moment of peace, with no interruptions. Just... Just us two being alone.” 

“Well... we’re alone now.” The Autobot spoke, the small spark of desire zapping within his core. Causing his processors to stir his mind towards temptation. His thumb gently rubbing small circles upon your lower back.  

A flirtatious smile teased the corners of your lips, “then... perhaps we should make the most of it.” 

Without hesitation, Optimus’ lips returned to yours. As he carefully laid you upon the curved roof of the gazebo, his free servo trailing down towards the waist band of your PJ bottoms. 

“I’ll start slow.” He promised, briefly allowing his lips to part from yours. “If I ever get too much. Please tell me, Sweet Spark.” 

You silently nodded, as a small shade of pink dusted your cheeks.  

Bringing both servos towards your thighs, massaging the muscles. While he placed passionate kisses along your neck, towards your collarbone. Butterflies disburse in your stomach, as a warming amber begun to flicker within your core. 

Hearing your soft moans against his audio processors, heat begun to rise beneath Optimus’ metal plates. The fans in his vents barely able to keep his temperature at bay. 

  A low sigh escaped your lips, as Optimus’ glossa traced the curves of your cleavage. A shy smile teasing the corners of your mouth, as a satisfied hum rumbled deep within his throat. Hands embracing his helm, as Optimus’ mouth danced over your clothed breasts, softly biting through the fabric, leaving suttle bite marks upon your skin.  

“Optimus...” 

Your torso rolled and moved against his mouth. Hands exploring the worn parts of his helm, caressing his old battle scars. Your eyes closed, as your head gently rested against the gazebo’s roof. 

Your breath hitched slightly, as Optimus’ placed a last kiss upon your hip. The small ambers within your core slowly rolled into a warm flame, once your eyes met his loving gaze. His hands cupping your ass, occasionally giving it a cheeky squeeze, as the desire pulsing through his Spark tore away the remaining pieces of his self-control.  

“Don’t stop.” You encouraged, seeing the lust glossing over his optics.  

A shaky breath leaving his lips, as you ran your hands towards your clothed core. Feeling Optimus’ digits twitch, as you opened your legs, causing the Autobot to fall onto his knees. His glossa licking his bottom lip, breath hitching as you slowly tugged your bottoms down your hips.  

The scent of your arousal drove Optimus into a spin, a burning desire of want pulsing through his wires, as his beating Spark cried for satisfaction.  

Sh-She smells so good. His processors teased.   

“Th-These... are in the way.” Optimus lowly spoke, his servo’s gently tugging the waistband of your bottoms down a little more.  

“Remove them then.” 

A breathless gasp escaped you, as the Autobot tore away the clothing along with your laced undergarments. The sound of the tearing fabric leaving your body made your soaked core clench around nothing. As Optimus carelessly threw the items aside, burying his faceplate between your thighs before the clothes could even reach the ground.  

Muffled whimpers tried to leave you, as you bit your bottom lip. Body quivering and legs trembling, as Optimus’ glossa caressed your folds. His servos returning to your thighs, gently placing your legs over his shoulders. Before using one of his servos to tease your wet, throbbing entrance. 

Your back arched against the roof, a moan slipping from your mouth, as Optimus’ middle digit slowly entered your sweet spot. The satisfied growl coming from the back of the Autobot’s throat, rippled against your skin. His lips tenderly kissing tangled the nerves of your clit, as his digit pushed more into your depth. Your soaked core relaxing, as his servo gently rocked against you. Ripping more muffled whimpers and whines from you, with each plunge of his digit. 

Electric volts raced through Optimus’ wires, as fireworks burst within his Spark. His engine revving, low moans rumbling within his throat, as his optics looked up at you. A smile forming upon his lips, as he witnessed the hot mess you slowly tuned into. 

“You’re so wet, my darling.” His voice cooed, “you’re practically dripping down me. Perhaps, I should clean you up.”  

Before words could form a question, a moan slipped from your lips as Optimus’ servo retreated from your core. Eyes widening, as his mouth kissed and sucked upon the glistening folds of your entrance. Your nails digging into his helm, scratching the navy-blue paint, as his glossa plunged into you without hesitation.          

“Optimus! Optimus!” 

His free servo quickly clasped against your mouth, muffling the whines of his name. A speechless command for quiet, as his passionate assault upon your soft spot didn’t ease. 

Your eyes rolled shut, arching your back and melting into the heated moment. As your legs spread a little more, giving Optimus more space to push his lips against you. Allowing his glossa to go deeper into your wet depths.  

His free servo slipped under the hem of your shirt, cupping and foundling with your breast. As the other trailed down, resting upon your neck. The tightening of your pussy around Optimus’ glossa, made his Spark begging for more.  

You were unlike anything he’d ever had. How your soft, organic body molded just oh so perfectly, against his servos and faceplate. The sweet essence of your soaked core, dripping down his glossa- providing a taste that made the Prime wonder how he ever lived this long without it. The sound of your voice moaning his name felt like a beautiful melody to him. A sirens song that you sang only for him.  

Your eyes fluttered open, as a breathless gasp slipped from your mouth. Biting your bottom slip, while another moan of Optimus’ name bubbled in your throat. Heat erupted in your core, a burning fire of desire warming your body, as an ache built up between your legs. Your hips rocking against Optimus’ faceplate, as nerves tangled together within your lower adomiain. A wave of pleasure building up, as the Autobot devoured your wet pussy. His glossa gliding in and out of your soaked entrance, lathering up your essence upon his glossa, like he had been stranded in a desert for days. And your body was the oasis, which held the key to a lifesaving nectar. 

“Oh...” you whined, as Optimus pulled away, causing your hand to slip down by your sides again. The wave of pleasure slowly settling down, as the fire within your core caused an ache. His servo retreating from underneath your shirt.  

“Forgive me, Sweet Spark.” He lowly spoke, wiping your glistening essence off his mouth and chin. Using the back of his servo, “but I need some... relief of my own.” 

His servo’s gently caressed your lower back, cradling your soft body as he picked you up. Bringing you closer to him, as Optimus shifted into a standing position.  

Your blush radiating a little more warmth upon your cheeks, as your eyes lowered to his modesty plate. Biting your lip a little, as the metal buckled from some hidden pressure behind it.  

Optimus’ low groans caught brought your attention back, noticing that the Autobot had trouble stepping over the fence which was on the left side of the of the courtyard. The fence divided the courtyard of the abandoned cathedral, and the community pool next door.  

Sitting down upon the overgrown grass, you straddled Optimus’ lap as he bent down and cupped your face. Placing soft, delicate kiss upon the top of your head and forehead. You could feel his modesty buckling more beneath you, as you grinded against the surprisingly light metal.  

“Be mine, my love.” His breathless plea brushed against your ear. Causing the fire in your core to burst, as Optimus’ Spark pulsed through his wires, “spend one night with this Prime, and I swear you’ll never want to love another.” 

Your hand caressed his cheek, as a loving sigh escaped your lips. “You already make feel like I don’t want another, Optimus Prime. For it’s you who has my heart- my whole heart.”    

You slightly adjusted your position, as Optimus removed his modesty plate. Eyes widening as you admired the size of his spike, the flickering flames within your core burned into a heat of want. A fire matching Optimus’ electric pulses of desire.  

Positioning himself near your close, using the tip of his spike to tease your throbbing entrance. Servo’s trailing down your torso, feeling every delicate curve as his palms rested against your outer thighs. His digits caressing the soft skin of your ass.  

A moan slipping from you, as his spike slipped into your soaking core. Your hands sliding from his faceplate, and onto his chassis. Gripping onto his chest plate, as your velvety walls felt every ribbed inch that Optimus gently thrusted into you.  

Optimus’ helm slowly tilted back, as his optics rolled shut. His engine purring, his Spark pulsing, vents cooling as he began to thrust into you. Cables tightened throughout his body, as the sensation of your essence dripping down him, sent Optimus’ processors into a spin. His scanners picking up your racing heart, as his Spark matched its rhythm. A knot begun to tighten deep within your core, as your body adjusted to the Autobot’s size.  

Your features flushed red, breasts bouncing with each thrust as you leaned forwards. The water reflecting off the outdoor pool, made the sweat upon your body glimmer slightly, as it dripped down your neck and back. Hair sticking to you, as your forehead rested against Optimus’ chassis, low whimpers and moans leaving your lips, as his hips picked up rhythm.  

“Primus! You’re so tight! So wet!” 

His digits begun to clench your ass, causing a low hiss to slip from you. Biting your bottom lip, trying to stop a scream of pleasure escape you. As you bounced and grind against his spike, never feeling so stretched yet so full at the same time. Knowing fair well that this mechanical God of a man, has absolutely ruined you. Optimus’ spike plunged into your soaked core, each thrust hitting your cervix harder and harder. Teasing the knot behind it, to come undone.  

“Y-You feel so good-” 

“Shut up and fuck me!” 

A satisfied growl rumbled deep within Optimus’ throat, your breathless command making the pulsing electricity within him, burst like fireworks. His optics fluttering open, as he tried to blink away the lust that glossed over his vision.  

“Your body was made for my love, Sweet Spark.” Gripping tightly upon your ass, making your body bounce harder against him. Pushing your hips down and meeting his, the tip of his spike slapping against your g-spot.  

“O-Optimus... Optimus!” 

Your grip upon his chassis tightened, as the knot in your core caused your legs to quiver. The rocking and thrusting of your hips, turning into an unforgiving pace, as your wave of pleasure began to build. Cables tightened inside Optimus’ body, as his body prepared for an upcoming overload.  

“Oh! Oh, fuck.” 

A breathless gasp escaped Optimus’, as your soaked core tightened around his throbbing spike. Your body falling against his chassis, as the warm feeling of his trans-fluids painted your insides. His sticky fluid, and your glistening essence covering your thighs and his.  

A small whimper left your lips, as Optimus carefully lifted you off his spike. Your heavy breathes fogging up his chassis, as your fingers scratched a little more of his blue paint off. Eyes fluttering, your body slumping against him, as it felt like all the energy and strength was taken from your body. Barely able to lift your head, as you gave the Autobot a contented smile. His vents working overtime, trying to cool down the warmth that radiated from his body.  

Cradling you against him, Optimus carefully shuffled towards the pool. Lowering himself into the water, making sure that the level only came to your waist. Both happily sighing as the cool water, felt refreshing against your warm bodies.  

“This... feels nice.” Your tone was sleepy, as your head rested against his chest. 

“It does.” Optimus placed a soft kiss upon the top of your head. His free servo grabbing a nearby towel, dragging it into the water, and wrapping it around your waist. Giving you a little bit of modesty. “Rest, my Sweet Spark. For I shall watch over you.” 

“I love you, Optimus Prime.” 

“And I you, Y/N Yeager.”  

Tag List

@ursamajor17 @crowleysthings @k----a27s @lainekyuu @manticcashew @goreismyforte @imachaoticghost @person101lol @silverelfy-blog @nataliahemsworth @musicalmedli @buena-lili @imobssesedwithtoomanysheet @skylarstormheart @the-unhinged-raccoon @ag3ntsw8n @moonsua1 @unadulteratedwizardrunaway @silverelfy-blog

[korpuskat]

Chosen Avatar - Part 1

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (GN, has a vagina) Rating: E WC: 2.1k Contents: PWP & Megatron Ramattra. Transformers-typical size difference. ===

There were a few things that had been at the top of your mind when you first saw him after this… transformation. It should’ve been his size. Instead, it was the glowing purple of his faceplate, the darkened slits that hid his optics now illuminated, radiating a brilliant royal shade- and for the first time, you could see his gaze settle on you. It had stolen your breath then, but now it’s even worse.

His optics rake over your nude form and it makes you embarrassed. A kind of shyness you haven’t felt with him in so long-- but like this? Everything is new.

He’s hardly done anything, hardly can do anything. With the aleatory effects of this gift, he’s much too big for his previous methods. No, you’ve had to get… creative. His thumb- massive and gray and strange and new- sweeps over your body, petting at your chest, then down over your ribs, brushing roughly between your legs. It’s crude, no precision at all, and yet still as painfully effective as his touch has always been on you.

He stops there over the heat of your sex, lets you whimper and rut against his cool metal.

“I thought you were small before,” He coos, his deepened, reverberating voice only makes you shiver harder in the palm of his hand. “Look at you now, aching for just the tip of one finger…” This, too, is alien now- a harsher tone that distorts his speech, like it’s been fed through an old speaker somewhere further down in his throat than it has been before.

“Rama…” You whine, grabbing at the edges of his rubber inlays. “Please…”

Ramattra hums, and even this noise has been altered by his new power, but does nothing to sate the heat in your belly.

“Here.” He says, and picks you up with his other hand. You make some sound in protest as being handled so casually, but honestly, the fact he lifts you even easier than before, that he just grabbed you like a doll— you whimper softly as he adjusts you, pushes you to lay back against the base of his thumb. This would be strange enough, except his fingers curl possessively towards you. The tip of his pinky sliding up along your thigh. It’s a good pressure, even if the angle is unusual.

Why he’s moved you becomes obvious only a minute later. His palm lowers, brings you level with his hips- and you watch, entranced as his other hand pulls off his pelvic plate.

What lies beneath is nothing like it was before. It had once been made specifically for you, for your tiny, fragile, human body- all purple translucent silicone and delightful waves, little nodules of firmness with his inlaid lights, now his cock stands as a monstrous obelisk, longer than you are tall. It’s dull silver, the same as his body though you aren’t sure if it is also now entirely metal, but it stands out with the base painted in that new red accent. The head is longer, less rounded and more pointed like an arrow, complete with a half-dozen more, smaller ridges beneath the head, almost making it look like a double sided key through the middle of the shaft. Below that, seams that match the ones on his faceplate run down the rest of the length- each glowing softly with purple light. And none of that is even what holds your attention.

“That’s certainly new.” Ramattra muses, gaze settling on the exact same feature this gift has given him. With his other hand, he touches the tip of his cock- and his fingertip comes away slick. A tiny slit in the head leaks a silvery purple fluid that slides lazily over the oblong head. Lubricant, some still functioning objective part of your mind supplies, but given the dubious origin of Ramattra’s benefactor, you can’t help but wonder if it is actually precum. Gods, you hope so. Heat builds in your belly, leaves unable to stop yourself from rutting against his finger as you watch him gently prod at his appendage. He smears the fluid across the tip, making it shiny and faintly purple- and heat rushes from his vents.

Cautiously, he curls two fingers around himself, uses the lubricant to ease his stroke. Above you, Ramattra moans- a shuddering soft little noise that you’d almost miss if you weren’t listening. And that alone is enough to make you grind harder against his fingertip.

You hear it as he turns, pistons shifting just so his gaze moves back to you. He watches, purple optics burning as you work yourself against his smooth new exterior- and when you tip your head back to look up at him, his chest rumbles in wordless praise. His grasp on himself adjusts, the slick noises of his fist gliding through lubricant even louder- and his finger presses harder into your skin. You gasp, brace yourself against the base of his thumb, nails digging into the little seams between plates as he rocks the finger against you.

You watch as the giant metal appendage rubs on you, nuzzling blindly between your legs. As thick as your forearm, the weight of it alone is thrilling. You adjust your position so he’s pressed right against your clit with every thrust, the underside of the finger slowly beginning to glisten with your own wetness.

“Yes,” He purrs, and you think it’s just how good his hand feels- lubricated and slick against himself. But as you look to him again. the light of his optics has darkened into a wine-like shade, locked perfectly onto your body writhing in his palm. Your grinding against him, your enjoyment of his body- that is the source of his pleasure. Heat surges through you, and if that wasn’t enough- “Keep going.” He urges you, his voice still new and staticky and rumbling and you can’t possibly deny him.

You dig your nails harder into his palm and meet each thrust- your noises a strained, staccato tempo in time with his movements, slowly building the pressure between your legs. It’s so imprecise, a blunt assault on your body that’s hotter more for the effort, for the slapdash connection you’ve forged than because of the sensation itself.

Until his digit slips too far up.

You choke; the plate of the last segment of his finger ends leaving you with a sudden little gap between his plates and with it, a complete lapse in pressure. This alone is jarring, but it’s the downstroke- the sudden return of the weight of him that makes your legs twitch around him.

And Ramattra- his head looming above you, so far away- does not miss this. In an instant, his motion changes, perfectly choreographed to rub the edge of the plate against your clit every single time. Like this, it’s not grinding, not the slow waves of incessant pressure, but an active stroke, flicking your clit like a switch-- one that keeps pace with the hand on his cock. And the pleasure shifts immediately, no longer a slow smoldering build, but a quick start tinderbox.

“Ramattra,” You gasp, clutching at him, hands scrabbling across cold metal as he ruts his finger against you- and in his lap his hand speeds up. Each stroke marked with a wet shlick of his own precum, the hum of his fans, the hiss of steam- and when you throw your head back all you see is purple. That gaze, knowing that he’s watching- it’s too much.

Your hips jump, desperately meeting each press of his fingertip, gasping, crying out his name as it pushes you over the edge. Your thighs tremble on each side of his finger, trying to clamp down on it and failing. When your body fails to keep its pace, his does not- keeping rubbing that edge of his plate over your clit again and again and again- dragging your high on and on in a merciless display for himself.

And Ramattra groans. Deep and loud, it vibrates through his entire frame, into every inch of your skin that touches his palm. You tear your eyes open, stare back up into his optics- blazing, burning orbs of light as his voice glitches, fights through static with every noise-

“A-ah.” His voicebox stutters, breaks as he fights to moan your name- and his body lurches forward. The purple light dims, flickers like a candle-- and you can’t even breathe as he cums. His hand works himself with a speed that must hurt, but from his chest he makes a noise you’d never known was him- like a radio going out of tune, pitched a half-step up- raw, unfiltered, erroneous data and he spills over himself.

His finger on your pussy finally stops, but there's no sleek offlining into a system reset- it's rough. All the air in his ventilation that was being pushed out suddenly reverses flow, his chest broadening in a desperate inhale. Silvery, lavender fluid coats his hand as his pace falters, slowing as he heaves, gasps through his orgasm in a way you’ve never seen him do before.

He keeps going- keeps stroking himself until his fingers tremble and another deep groan slips from his vocoder. He stops, lowering his hand to his hip and, gods you have no idea what this power has done to him because his cock twitches, a last few stray droplets of cum sliding down over his ridges, pouring down the seams in gorgeous, perfect streaks.

You shouldn’t, but your mind is still too lust hazed, still half grinding against his finger just from the sight of Ramattra’s cum. You reach out towards his soaked hand in a silent plea, grasping at the air. Whatever has changed in him means he must finally get his own afterglow, because Ramattra obliges, bringing his dripping palm to you. And oh, you shouldn’t, but there’s no logic in the world that could stop you from stumbling to the edge of his hand just to lean to the other and lick.

Your mouth tingles- and your first thought is fruit, that it’s sweet like juice. The second, however, is that it’s like licking a battery, but turned up to eleven-- like licking a car battery. It’s sour in a way you know isn’t physically possible, electricity manually activating your nerves in a way they aren’t meant to be. Tart and sparkling and it’s like grapes just before they’re about to ferment and damn Megatron because it’s not even bad.

You go in for another taste and Ramattra groans, apparently starting to come to his senses as he separates his hands, leaving you to collapse back against his fingers. Which is fine, as you immediately enjoy how the heat of your skin dissipates into his cool digits. Above you, you can see the plumes of steam still slipping from Ramattra’s vents, his optics dulled into an easy amethyst.

“That was… different.” He offers after a minute, his voice box slowly coming back to its regular working order, but still not pristine. “I’m not sure I appreciate this being messier.” He shifts his cum-coated hand, the fluid there slipping, shimmering in the light.

“Never seemed to bother you before.” You grin up at him, lazily lounging against one of his cleaner fingers and conjure images of how much of a mess you’ve left him with before- on cock and fingers and faceplate.

“I did not mind when it was your fluids.” Ramattra grumbles.

“Well,” You can’t help yourself, the endorphins making you too loose, too giddy to not prod at him. “Maybe you should have asked the alien warlord what he was going to do to your dick before accepting interdimensional power.”

A noise rumbles from Ramattra’s chest, something between a scoff and a laugh. “Yes, I’ll make sure to take notes for next time.” He rests there for a minute, content enough to relax and approach re-regulation and watch you do the same. Eventually, however. “I should clean up.”

You nod, stretch in his palm and prepare to climb down onto the floor-

His palm rises. You sink to your knees with the force of it, clutching at the seams below you as you turn, trying to figure out what he’s doing- and he brings you up to his shoulder. To his scarf. You blink a few times, but smile as you force your wobbling legs to work long enough to transfer yourself onto his frame.

The fabric is unwieldy to climb on, folded together in fat bunches that give way as you try to navigate them, reliant on the hard seams of Ramattra’s new body just to find a good perch. But the payoff is worth it. From here, his vent heat is everywhere. The steam has warmed the scarf thoroughly, leaving it toasty and soothing on your nude body. You don’t even have time to make a comment on how cozy he is before you’re slipping into an easy sleep.

[howtofightwrite]

I'm always a little bit (more than a bit tbh) skeptical when I see it in movies or read in books, that an archer uses their bow as a melee weapon when the enemy gets too close. I feel like using a bow like a club would not go down well with the bow.

On the other hand, a crossbow? Could you use a crossbow as a close-quarter combat weapon in a pinch? Like, whacking someone over the head and then trying to get distance between you and the enemies again.

Also I'd appreciate your 2 cents about the trope of "stabbing someone with arrows".

You really don't want to do any of those things.

So, the bow as a melee weapon runs into the issue that the limbs themselves really aren't designed to sustain blunt impacts, and even if they're made of something sturdy, there is a real potential for damage. Similarly, you don't want to damage the string. If either of these things are damaged, the weapon is basically trashed. This also applies for blocking melee attacks with a bow. In situations like that you're almost guaranteeing that the weapon will be critically damaged. Now, that could be an intentional decision, “sacrifice the bow instead of dying,” but it's rarely presented in that context, and the weapon frequently emerges unscathed (or with minor, cosmetic, damage) from these events.

Crossbows have the same problems as bows, with the additional consideration of their trigger mechanism, their winding system (if they have one), their optics (again, if they have any beyond sighting down the bolt.) Damaging any of these things will start to impair the weapon's ability to function. It doesn't mean that clubbing someone over the head with the stock would automatically break the crossbow, but there are a lot of mechanically sensitive components that could react poorly to blunt force impacts, so, it's best to avoid that entirely, and just not use it as a melee weapon.

Everything I just said about the crossbow also applies to just about any firearm more advanced than a 14th century hand cannon. Firearms do have the advantage in that they're expected to experience some kinetic kick, so it's not as simple as, “well you can't do this, or gun will break,” but as a general rule, you shouldn't do it. Clubbing someone over the head with your M4a1 shouldn't mess up your zero, it shouldn't damage your trigger mechanism, it shouldn't affect the firing pin, but you still shouldn't do it, because there is a genuine risk of breaking something. There are a lot of moving parts in modern firearms, and if any of those are out of place, it's not going to work right.

Ranged weapons are intended to be used at range, they're not supposed to be used as improvised clubs, and while most modern examples should be able to survive some abuse, it's still a bad idea.

Stabbing with an arrow is something I have mixed feelings on. From a realism perspective, it's not. Arrows (and bolts) are designed to be aerodynamic, you want low drag on the shaft, and that means that you're not going to get the kind of grip you would with a knife. The shaft should be smooth, and as a result, able to move through the air with ease, but that also makes it harder to manually shove it into someone.

At the same time, most arrow stabbings in fiction are examples object conservation. It's a kind of Chekhov's Gun, where the item is being completely repurposed in the moment, and that's a bit of creativity that I'm rather fond of, even when it's not completely realistic. This even extends to situations where someone's been shot with an arrow, pulls it out, and then stabs someone with it. It's biologically impossible in most cases, but it can be a well done moment that effectively plays with the objects that have already been established in the fight.

It's a little off topic here, but getting shot with an arrow (or bolt) is very different from being shot by a bullet. In the case of bullets, they tear through your musculature and (usually) exit the body. The problem is that you now have new holes, through which your blood is now seeking to escape. Being hit by an arrow will pin your muscles together in their current configuration. Think of it like running a toothpick through a stack of thinly sliced meat, the exact position of those slices is now fixed in relation to one another. The problem is, your muscled don't move together. They're multiple layers of meat moving over one another, and when you skewer that, you cannot change the relative position of those muscles. Meaning, getting shot with an arrow will lock up portions of your body, preventing motion. This is why I said that pulling an arrow out and then stabbing someone is sometimes biologically impossible. It is biologically impossible to continue fighting after taking a couple arrows, because you'll be unable to sufficiently move your limbs.

So, the short answer would be, “can you?” Yes. “Should you?” No. There's a non-trivial chance you'll damage the weapon. It's not likely, but you really wouldn't want to take that chance.

-Starke

This blog is supported through Patreon. Patrons get access to new posts three days early, and direct access to us through Discord. If you’re already a Patron, thank you. If you’d like to support us, please consider becoming a Patron.

[empirearchives]

Napoleon’s mother had a watch made for her as she lost her eyesight that was designed for her to tell the time by touch instead of reading numbers.

According to the Walters Art Museum:

This unusual watch has no numbers, it belongs to a type called "montres à tact" or discrete watches. The clever design allows the time to be told by touch alone, feeling the four diamonds on the hour and the quarters, and the pearls that mark the remaining divisions of the twelve hours. The raised arrow, also in diamonds, contrasts with the smooth surrounding enamel, taking the place of watch hands. It was made for Maria Letizia Bonaparte, Napoleon’s mother, who lost her sight as she aged.

The case employs a process called guilloché, where subtle but kaleidoscopic effects are created through mechanical means. Geometric shapes are carved into metal by engine turning. The resulting patterns of fine lines are covered with transparent enamel, when light hits them it creates oscillating optic effects.

Pierre Benjamin Tavernier (Jeweler), Basile Charles Le Roy (Clockmaker), Early 1800s

[therewasatale]

wound

On Ao3.

A firm knock woke you from your slumber.

"Just a second." You mumbled, and carefully climbed out from the bed. Thanks to the painkillers and Mercy's miracle work you barely felt the pain in your left side. There will be scars, of course, there were always scars, but right now the pain was tolerable to walk even if most of your upper body was bandaged up.

"Yes?" You touched the panel next to your door and blinked in surprise as you found the omnic in front of your room. "Ramattra?"

"May I come in?"

No matter the circumstances his voice always stirred your soul.

"Sure. Just please, close to door behind you." Your left hand rested over the bandages as you limped back to your bed. The furniture was placed against the nearest wall, next to it a small table and a couch. Not the biggest, but cosiest place you had so far after many years. You actually managed to put some picture frames on the shelves around the room, some that you were able to save before the fall of the Blackwatch.

"Have a seat." You waved towards the couch. "I'm gonna lay back down, hope you don't mind."

"No, it's all right." The omnic watched your every movement. He felt a spark of anger bloom in him. Not against you, but rather against Talon, and himself.

"Thanks. So, what brought you here?" As soon as your head touched your pillow a pleasant huff escaped you; being vertical was still a bit iffy.

Ramattra glanced at your couch, then your bed, and made a decision. He sat down next to you to the ground. "You were reckless on the last mission."

"Really? Lecturing already? You could have waited until at least I recovered." You answered with a faint smile on your lips – but, of course he was right.

"You almost died." His fingers curled into a fist. "What were you thinking? Trying to take down Reaper alone."

Most people couldn't read much from an omnic's face, even Zenyatta was able to hide his feelings if he wanted to. However, right now, Ramattra's body was stiff as an arrow. His voice became darker, and his red optics stared right at you.

You were reckless, right, however, you were always reckless even back in the Blackwatch. Over and over, you had to listen to Gabe as he scolded you. He even yelled at you after some of the almost suicidal stuns you pulled. But you always came back, you've always survived.

The irony that the man who scolded and taught you to survive, was the one who shot you and left you to bleed out.

"I just wanted to talk with him."

"With Reaper?"

"No," you slowly shook your head, "With Gabe."

Ramattra lowered his shoulders, his anger started to turn into curiosity. Always, you always managed to pique his interest.

"I think he's still in there." Again, you smiled faintly, and continued as he waited in silence. "I knew he would come after me, Athena informed me where he was moving so I managed to catch him, or at least surprise him."

The omnic didn't like where this was going.

"So, I found him, and talked to him. When he didn't attack right away, I lowered my weapon and --"

"You did what?!"

"Hey, don't yell." You scoffed.

"You're trying to tell me that your old leader, who joined Talon, is still inside Reaper, yet he left you to bleed out alone!"

"He could have shoot me in the head. But didn't."

Ramattra started to understand why the humans sigh so many times so deeply. They at least were able to release some pressure, while he was only able to sit next to your bed and make plans in his mind how to break Reaper's leg and arm next time.

"In the upcoming mission you stay next to me, understood?"

"What? Come on, both of us know I'm better on my own, in the Blackwatch they basically trained me to be an assassin."

"I understand, but this is not up to an argument." He answered almost calmly. "Why do you insist on always getting in danger by yourself?" He couldn't get rid himself of the image as the cowboy dragged your unconsciousness body to the dropship, or how weak your voice sounded when you asked for help over the coms.

"I do not, but if I have to protect the others back then I'm going to do it again." You scoffed and almost folded your arms in front of your chest before deciding it wouldn't be the best or most adult move. "Ramattra, you don't need to protect me, I can --"

"But I want to." He answered without missing a beat.

And the argument ended there.

After a slow exhale you reached out and caressed his faceplate, as he snuggled closer to your hand, a blush ran under your eyes. "All right." You answered softly. "Then we will talk about this later."

"Rest, I'll be here and we can discuss this later." He took your hand into his. "But right now you need to rest. If you wake up and keep insisting that Reaper is not just a ruthless killer, then I will help you catch him. Your cowboy friend has a history with him too, I can tell. He can come and help."

"Yeah, he really does. "A tiny sigh left your lips. "All right, thank you." You pulled him closer and left a soft kiss on his faceplate.

A gentle, yet pleasant hum escaped from the omnic. "Can I stay?"

"Please, I think it would help me to have some rest." As you closed your eyes, you felt him taking your hand into his. It didn't take much and you breathing became steady and slow.

The ommnic watched over your body, focused his sensors so he could only listen to your breathing, and heartbeat – right now, nothing else mattered to him. Carefully he held your hand while focused on your heart. He maybe never needed to sleep, but he found himself being able to much easier to meditate while being next to you.

[silverliing]

Mike’s wall art

I love seeing analysis about ST set design because it really spells out so much of the story without verbally telling you, and ive seen much discussion abt the details of mike’s room in s4 (that one way sign haunts me btw). buuut there are two pieces of visible wall art that I don’t really see get talked about on here (that i’ve read) and I just have a few things to say about them and what i think they might be telling us about Mike’s character and upcoming journey (hint: going into the UD)(hint: making plans and leading the party)(hint: byler)

so idk if this has been pointed out or if it’s common knowledge atp but the two pieces circled above are lithographs by artist MC Escher; Hand with Reflective Sphere (left)

and Relativity (right)

(a lil hard to see in this screenshot i’m sorry😢)

The artwork is beautiful as you can see (canon Mike Wheeler has great taste in art). Escher was most known for his intricate “impossible constructions” which are optical illusions of paradoxical space, he was also the inventor of the impossible cube:

this is some pretty cool nerdy, mathy stuff that I’d expect mike would be into, but looking at it from the context of his character and the direction of where the story is headed, there were 3 immediate possible readings that popped into my head which point toward 3 different (yet coexisting) directions:

He likes the art — It’s true, this art taps into Mike’s interests. Valid but boring. zzzz. snooze. You could argue that these posters should be taken at face value, but I just feel like in a show like ST —where the main cast knows of and is in various ways affected by an evil alternate dimension— having a character with wall art that references perspective/dimensional anomalies doesn’t really tell us much about his specific character or story. We’ve known that the ST set designers use a character’s space to show us who they are as people, these two artworks need to tell us something about Mike and his journey. And maybe Mike’s sensibilities about the world at large are shifting into nihilism with everything that’s happened in hawkins and the art reflects an absurdist outlook of future (teenage stuff, growing up, etc. etc.)

It foreshadows Mike’s s5 arc — I love this one. Mike is one of the few in the main cast who haven’t been in the upside down proper, so this art could reference not only that he’ll go into the UD in s5 but also that there could be dimensional anomalies involved in his travel or journey there. Perhaps this is how they’ll be able to find Max— by bending the laws of physics and using the mechanics of dimensional travel against itself, perhaps to open new doors or travel in different directions (hint: time travel 😏). And i think the reason this art is in Mike’s wall is bc it will be Mike who formulates the plan to find Max and retrieve her with the help of El and Will’s new powers 😏 (g*d knows i want to see leader Mike make a come back)(and Will with powers).

Will Byers — we know Mike and Will are tied together by the narrative and so I think these artworks could be directly pointing to Will with big red arrows. This point is corroborated by simply analyzing the formal qualities of the artwork, both individually and as a set. Hand with Reflective Sphere is about optics and perspective, about seeing, but also about the flattening of space. Relativity is about space, dimension, and paradox, but also about impossible perspective/vantage point. When read together the objective reading of them is about sight and space and paradox, about how the flattening of space helps us see something new and impossible. While Mike hasn’t experienced the dimensional travel into the UD proper, many of those closest to him atp had; El, Will, Nancy… but the reason i think these two posters remind him of Will specifically is because out of everyone else who has been in the UD, only Will experiences the feeling of being stuck there and of seeing into both dimensions at once; the stuck view-master, true sight. Mike associates these things combined (dimensional travel and dimensional sight/perception) with Will.

Also, Mike is a nerdy guy, he seems interested in this kind of stuff for the fun of it so he could’ve had sciency charts that reference the subject of visible light and paradoxes the way Suzie does, but instead he has not one but two fine-art pieces by a pretty big graphic artist that reference the subject of sight and space. Also, Idk what it is about the fact that it’s fine-art and not movie/game/dnd art that makes me also associate it with Will— the self-proclaimed visual artist of the show. The words are all jumbled up in my head rn but; artist. sight. all-encompassing. dimension. paradox. new perspective. -> -> -> -> Will Byers (is this a hint to wills powers??) etc. etc. etc. you get it

Secret 4th option (ties into #2)

Mike gets Vecnaed and this forces him into extensive self-reflection and the labyrinthian trials of finding himself and mastering his fears(maybe he’s already begun his self-searching and that’s why we see this art at the beginning of s4). cue cool musical montage of Mike navigating his own memories and mind-scape to find the answer that will make everything make sense while also hiding from vecna and buying the party time to find a way to end him.

[keelt9]

Chapter 12 (Final)

Masterlist

A/N: Finally! This is the end. I hope you enjoy this as much as me. I want to thank you for keeping reading until the end. I’m sorry for the delay, but believe me, I want to give you something I love and you could love in every single word.  

A long one but really worthy.

Thank you so much. 💜

Like we said arrow shot, arrow forgotten or something like that.

Carol greeted me with a I-just-came-back from vacation smile. “Happy New Year!”

I giggle as I put my credentials in the optical reader. “Happy New Year Carol. Did you enjoy the vacation?” 

She nods effusively as follow me with her eyes. “The rumors about the hats are true, huh?” 

I laughed as I touched the Christmas hat that these 3 weeks we wore a different color for each one of us, to keep the spirit all the time.

“Nice touch, huh?” Carol laughs. “They are in…”

“Third field, all are already there.” She completed my phrase. 

“Thanks Carol.”

I walked but today the cold breeze started to make me shiver. 

“Morning.” Olivia greeted me as she saw me walking to the entrance. “Please tell me…”

 I pulled out containers from my bag. “Nanny send you these.” And I saw Charlotte about to complain. “For each one of you.”

Nanny woke up early and made french toast for each one of the team including the coaches, while they were melting at each bite I sent a small video to her.

“Ok, we definitely enjoyed this breakfast but, wash your hands and get back so we can start.” Robert announced after finishing all their breakfast.

I’m for sure, more precise in each one of my shots, now I rarely hit the 8, my shoulder is stronger, I'm definitely in my moment.

“That's… So damn close.” I thigh my fist after seeing my arrow was so close to the small black dot in the small yellow circle.

“Bows down little kids.” Marie Anne shouted looking at Robert's notebook.

“Come closer please.” Robert has that mischievous face, as we walk to the tent and sit. “All right, we will have a fantastic year, I know losing time with your family must be hard, however we prepare something special for you.”

Liam gave us one by one a small box or paper bag. As we opened each one of us found a full day of spa, all including and the reservation for our favorite restaurant.

“I mean I don't want to sound ungrateful but I don't have the reservation.” I turn my box upside down.

“You, girl, have a full day in physiotherapy.” Marie Anne winks at me.

“Golden girl at maintenance.” Matt jokes. “Don't worry I'll drive you there.”

Sunday morning as he said I found Matt having breakfast at my house before me.

“I thought Nanny was here.” Matt complains, taking a sip of his juice.

I muttered sitting next to Mia. “Oh, hello.” 

Mia has calmed down these weeks, I don't think she understands my decision but respect it and put things aside.

“I thought you were a morning person but this guy.” She pointed at him with her fork. “Arrive at 6 am, 6!”

Matt smiles at Mia and stands for putting more honey in her pancakes. “I love you too Mia.”

Mia saw me looking at the small table in the entrance.“Nothing yet.”

Everyday I receive a peony of different color and small note, but suddenly, it stops on New Year's Eve, it could be a sign.

“I wasn't looking for that.” Mia nodded clearly, she didn't believe me. 

After I eat my breakfast, Matt and I drive to the clinic or at least that's what I thought until he takes a different driveway.

“You take the wrong one.” I say my eyes on my phone. 

Days passed but people were gossiping about why I didn't attend the ceremony where Max got his World Wide Champion trophy. The day of the ceremony Matt posted a story where you can see us practice, turning down the rumors for I keep focus. 

We avoided talking about if we broke up or not with other people and we confused them with the mixing signs; the account of Red Bull Racing published photos of the race, in one slide, me and Max hugging each other, but also the federation published photos of us training that had Max like in each one of them, however people questioned if he’s already in postseason, why he didn't post something with me.

“Matt?” He has a smile. “Where are we going?” We drove out of the city.

He clears his throat. “You remember the camping site where we used to go as teenagers.” 

I nod. “The best 3 hours of bus of the day. Although I should be in the clinic.” Matt raises his finger. 

“No, I said I will take you but I didn't specify when. You can sleep, I'll drive us safe and sound.” 

I laugh, closing my eyes and enjoying the now 1 and half hour drive.

I woke up because of the silent notice that we were already there and Matt went ahead leaving a note in the car.

<I don’t want to wake you, I’ll meet you in the lake.>

I stretched my arms before going to the lake which was hidden between big trees, in winter just branches and big trunks hidden it. In our 15's we used to come on frequently just to enjoy the sounds and playing with rocks, keeping us far away from the stress of training.

I notice how some places didn’t change at all, like the time stops. I saw him, hands in his pockets watching the lake.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep hard as rock.” I put my right hand in his left pocket trying to warm, but immediately noticed something wrong.

“Yeah, Olivia drove Matt back like 30 minutes ago.” I try to take my hand out but he closes his around mine.

“Max.” He giggles and tingles our finger inside of his pocket. “What are you doing here?” 

“Do me a favor. See that box.” I leaned my head to our right. “Could you open it?”

I narrow my eyes but he scoffs. “Please.” I can’t with those eyes. 

“I need my hand for that.” I try to pull out useless, he walks with me, only I take out until I have to pick up the box.

Is a small one still a little bit heavier for its size. I open and he holds the lid. The first thing I found was the cap he got for the first place in Silverstone, the second is 3 sets of tapes with different colors, my favorite ones.

“For your fingers.”

I laugh, the set was composed of 3 packages of tapes. “Max I don’t use a full package in a day, one lasts me at least three months.” He shrugged his shoulders, a smile on his face.

In the bottom a small black box, my recklessness made Max take the box leaving me only with the black one, I scoff but slowly I opened the box. A gold and delicate necklace with a pendant, “1” and the initials of my name.

“I tried to protect you.” Max has that regretting expression in his face, utterly strange for me to see that. I let him speak grabbing the necklace. “I didn’t want to realize the fact I hid things from you; it was hurting you more. Isn’t an excuse, but you were going through a hard time and I don’t want to be another hard moment in your life. I put you aside, and I’m so sorry.”

He scoffed sadly. “When we begun this I told you I don’t want to keep you hide and I just did that, I hide things from you, fuck.” 

Max grips the box tight for the way his knuckles turn white, I spoke first. “I feel unpeaceful these weeks.” He instantly raised his eyes from the box. “I mean, look at me I’m shaking just having you here in front of me, in a good way.”

I raise my hand for he can see the slight tremble in my hand.

He grabs my hand and kisses my forehead. “I can’t change the past, but I really want to build a future with you. I want to be someone you lend to all the time. Could you…could…” He shutter, I can’t help it, I kiss his cheek so close to his lips.

“Could you give me a second chance? Please.” 

I bit my lip. I sincerely want to give him that second chance but I need to keep my feelings on the right path, especially this year.

“Max, I have an important qualifier this year, I need to be focused on what I’m doing and being distracted about if you would come or if you are with me, it’s the last thing I need.” Max nods but Checo was right, he didn't give up.

I grab the box of his hands. “Could you give me time to think about it?” An unexpected smile forms on his face and he nods effusively.

“All you need.” He kissed my cheek.

“Do you mind giving me a ride to my house?” Max giggles but we start to walk.

-

“You are dead meat!” Matt mocks my voice as he sits in the airport waiting for our call. “And I get this!” 

He has a bruise on his right cheek, already deep purple.

“Such a baby! It was with the kids' equipment.” I sat next to Olivia who was in the middle of us.

When I found him the next day in the federation I ran after him but he’s faster than me so I grabbed a bow and arrow that kids used in their first months of practice, any sharp point just a type of sticker to remain stuck to the target.

Matt scoffs and looks at me. “Am I the one who disappears on the weekend?” 

Max stayed all weekend in town, he even met my parents, in an almost lethal encounter with my dad who I swear I never looked at anyone with those eyes. As the day passed and they talked, forcefully at the beginning of mom, dad said goodbye to Max not like Mr. Verstappen, just Max.

“Enough! Please enough.” Charlotte giggles and puts a cookie in our mouths for we shut up. “We have a long flight, two weeks far from home and qualification in the way, let’s relax and let the reprimand for when we come back.” 

Olvia stands and hugs Charlotte. “Thank you.” 

We’re not mad just messing with each other, the truth is being with Max that weekend was the best still doesn't change my decision. I know it was an unusual day, that’s not our daily life.

The first days were really calm, a few interviews, training and normal talks with other teams. 

“Morning Y/N.” One of the girls in the competition greeted me with an unusual smile. 

“I’m so jealous of you!” Her friends said. “In a good way, of course.” 

I don’t have any chance to answer because they keep walking, giggling as I walk confused to the table where the team is eating.

“Why is everybody looking at me as if I had a bug or something?” I sit in front of Charlotte who rolls her eyes and puts her cellphone in front of me.

At that moment, Olvia put her hand with her phone down, unable to answer to whatever is on the screen, putting my tray with my breakfast. 

“Charlotte first things first, we’re in the middle of a competition.” Charlotte smiles at me in an apologetic way, I shake my head as I take a drink of my juice. It’s for the best to keep me focused.

The day for team qualifications arrived in calm, I stayed focused all day, my shoulder feels great, I have my mind concentrated, it's time to put it to work together. 

The match is aggressive and all the teams know that if you want to “rest” a little bit before the Olympics you must secure your place in the first competitions.

To have all the things under control we agreed I’ll go in second place, Charlotte who has the better match lately, go first and Oliva with her experience will close the sets. By the finish of the second set things we’re equal, if we have 3 last good shots this is ours. 

Charlotte hits with ease, hits the 10, puts in us as leaders.

“Good shot.” Olvia keeps cheering us up, before I stand in the shot line, Robert who is with us gives me the last indications.

“Strong, and steady.” I heard Charlotte as I take a deep breath, I don’t shutter and release in 6 seconds, <9>

“Great, great.” We bump our fist and Oliva just had to secure the qualification with all above 8.

With her experience and showing why she is the team leader, easily hitting the <10>

Charlotte and I scream and hug each other carefully without hitting with the bow, as Rober hugs Olivia before joining us. We hear the scream and shouts from the terraces where we can easily distinguish our family and the male team. 

By the end of all the matches we have a few minutes to go with our families before going back to the hotel.

“There you are!” My mom hugs me tightly, giving a kiss in my head. “Mrs. Olympic.” 

“Mom.” I whined with a side to side smile before my dad lifted me and kissed my cheek.

“So proud of you, so proud!” Mia jumps over me with a huge smile and her classic neon pink cardboard.

“I hope to jump on you next month.” Mia’s qualification will take place next month and like her coach said, <Only a hurricane could take her out.>

“Nanny will come to tomorrow's qualification, they lost the flight, huge drama.” Dad said and I nod giggled because probably they lost the flight for confusing the hours.

“I’m sorry for cutting the celebration but…” Robert appears winning hugs from my family. “We have to go, the next time you will have her for a longer time.”

Mia grips my arm. “Can you wait a little bit, just a couple of minutes?” I hug her but with a competition in the next few days makes our times tight.

“Sorry Mia, not today.” Robert smiles and grabs my bag. “Tomorrow you can have her a little bit more.”

Mia looks at our mother who shrugged her shoulders. “Please.” But her answer came with the staff calling for us.

I kiss Mia before Robert and I go, happy for the good qualification.

With an early competition trying to avoid the hot sun of the noon, I woke up early, I only answered the call from my family and left my phone with Liam, avoiding distractions. All the team came with me until the entrance of the arena where we split up.

One by one wish me and let me know I will have success, but all see with Matt, we take our time.

Matt hugs me tight and holds me there for a couple of minutes. “You got this, alright? Hey, you come pretty far in less than a year, believe it, this will be the cherry on top.”

Liam calls me and high five with Matt. 

“Take care of her coach.” Liam laughs ironically.

“Don’t even say it.”

The first set was a total domination of my opponent, the wind increased and I felt unsure to shoot the arrow every time; in the small break, I took a deep breath and heard Liam.

“Remember, your shoulder is perfectly fine, now believe in you.” He pointed to the bow. “Adjust a little, it’s ok, you already shot in the worst conditions.” 

I scoff and hear the beep for the next set. Apparently benefiting me, because my opponent starts to miss her aim, even shooting for a 6 that gives an open window to win this one.

Liam praised me and I took my time for a quick look to the terrace. The pink cardboard came out easily, even an odd one I was able to see quickly.

I shake my head and take a deep breath. “One more, one more.”

The set was tight, the first shot was almost equal but by the last one, the wind was awfully increasing. I heard the gasp before the last arrow of the other girl, and I saw the score, 7, that gives a small window, all above 9 is a win.

I take my position but at the second I low the bow, a strong wind moves it, so I put it down and Liam starts the countdown, at 10. I barely reach my position with the bow and make the release.

I close my eyes right away after I feel the arrow come out of it.

The cheer and screams of my name make me open and the score is 10, the set is mine along with the qualification. 

Tears ran down my face. I get my head down as Liam covers me with a soft hug repeating the same words over and over again. “So proud of you.” 

I sniff and wipe my tears and hugs him with my free hand after calm a little bit I congratulate my opponent and put the bow down, as I see all the people I love there, the girls jumping and waving her hands; my parents crying and Mia screaming to the top of her lungs; Matt clapping and raising his hands making the people scream more.

But I took my time and saw in detail the last cardboard, a foraging language surrendered by hearts.

The staff indicated to me that it's time to go because they set everything for the award ceremony.

I wave my hand to the people before grabbing my bow and follow Liam back. Reporters asked me a couple of questions and even mentioned how I feel with the absence of Maxx one more time but with an event of Red Bull today, he couldn’t split in two. I answered like I've been doing all the time.

“We know our times are difficult to match, Max is with me in different forms.”

I held my tears almost all the ceremony until after giving our medals, I received the golden ticket, making official my qualification to the Olympics. In that moment one more time started to cry of happiness surrounded by shouts, whistles and claps for all there.

As soon as I can I run to meet my family where everyone hugs me and congratulates me.

“What a match! One more arrow and I could faint.” Anton, who arrives just in time for my competition, hugs me. “Congratulations!”

“Who said Charles couldn’t keep his eyes open in that last arrow?” Alexa hugs me, mocking Charles. 

“Am I the one who closes the eyes of each shot of the other girl?” He won’t let her go easily. “Unbelievable. Totally deserved.”

“Are you free to go?” I never heard those words coming out from my father's mouth.

Liam scoff shaking his head. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Didn't even a single night?” I pat my father's arms, he smiles. “Sorry, excited for you, I want to celebrate you properly.” 

We know we have a special dinner at the beginning of a hard year. The next morning we are all free to go, usually we go back home in the same flight but it seems my dad won't let this happen.

I should feel tired at the end of the dinner, but I’m full of energy, so I keep walking around the garden of the hotel.

“Finding it hard to sleep?” Olivia makes me jump, she is clearly sleepy.

I nod and giggle. “Two years ago I was stuck in a hospital room praying that I could raise my shoulder, now look at me.” I raised my arms. “I'm going to the Olympic Games.”

Olivia laughs. “Go, we cover you.”

I looked from one side to the other, but no one was around. “Olivia.” 

Charlotte enters running with my cap on hands. 

“Go, go, go.” Charlotte pushed me to the main door. “I call a cab, it will take you there, and wait for you for 30 minutes.”

Years ago after every successful competition I used to go back to the field where people kindly let me shoot a couple of arrows, and came back to the hotel.

“Robert will write my name.” I whispered but Olivia opened the door.

“Robert probably is sleeping or taking the last notes in the evil notebook.” Charlotte said with a smile pushing me, putting her hand on the top of my head for I don't bump into the car, even my bag is already there.

“Go!”

The driver kept silent all the time, when I arrived the security guard smiled at me and opened the door.

He turned on the lights as we walked to the field. “I already knew you were coming, I changed the target I hope is correctly set.”

I shake my hands. “I don't want to give you trouble, it'll be a couple of arrows and I'll leave.” 

“Take your time.” He passes next to me as I sit on the ground and start to open my bag.

Wait, how does he know?

I was about to put out all my things when I noticed a box on the top of it, with a small note with Matt handwriting. “Special occasion.” I giggle, if it's some kind of prank…

I didn’t have time to concrete my idea because another wood box was inside, this clearly more expensive, tie in the front a small key that clearly opens the tiny lock. Inside a lot of polaroids and small red envelope.

I took as I smile forms on my face, photos of me and Max in different moments, different occasions, each one with a different meaning for us with small notes from Max at the back; but what I call for my attention are the last ones.

Photos of the open practice we had 4 days ago, the competition for teams, and photos of today, and he holding the cardboard. Impossible. 

I quickly take out the red envelope which has written. <A special bonus from Charles ft Checo.>

Again more polaroid but this time Max in each one in different parts of the paddock, in the garage, the interviews all with cellphone in his hand; Charles clarify what he’s seeing, me. Each one of my competitions and the reactions before I did a good shot, his fist tight and raising a little bit.

“That was an infiltration.” I raise my head and Max is there rubbing his hands in his tights. “I hope you heard me at that perfect shot because my throat feels pretty sore.” 

I try to control the shaking of my hands, unable to stand up, keeping the distance between us. “You've been here for…?” 

Max presses his lips together thinking in his answer. “Thursday from the past week? Oh, Wednesday.” He smiles. “I was dying to see you in your best moment, show you that I’m here, I support you in every goal, every challenge and every fall. I want to be part of your life. I don’t want to be a question in your life, I want to be next to you, just be with you.”

I clear my throat and search for the photo of him holding the cardboard. “I don’t speak Dutch, so wha…”

“I love you. Ik houd van jou.” Max stole my words. “I love you, that’s what has been on my mind every time I see you, every time I hear you and every tim..”

I stood and ran to him holding him by his neck and put my legs around his waist, Max quickly put one of his arms around my waist and the other holding my head. 

“Fuck. I missed this.”  He whispered in my ear. “I’m so sorry, I promise…”

I shake my head holding him tight. “I love you.” He takes out all the air he’s containing after he hears the same words from me. “I really do, but I was afraid, I’m sorry.” 

He didn't let me go, just split so he could see my face and smile. “I know, and have faith in this is.” He gives a peck on my lips. “I already proved to you I don’t give up.” I giggle and kiss him. 

“I love having you here but…” He whispers at my lips with our foreheads one next to the other. “I’m dying to kiss you properly.” 

I stand on my feets, pull him with my arm around his neck. I swear feeling his smile on my lips is the best sensation in the world.

Max covers both sides of my face with his hands and keeps me closer, until the lack of hair makes us split, he looks straight into my eyes and puts his arms around my waist.

“Look up.” He whispers at me, I choke my head making him giggle and raise his eyes.

The lights of paper lanterns started to appear like stars in the sky, I covered my mouth and he let me go just for hugging me at my back.

“I didn’t know about those restrictions after the competition.” That’s why the insistence of my father and Mia. “This is supposed to be seen in a special place but no one warned me about the rules.” 

I turn around to see him. “I love you.” I grab his face and kiss him. “I really really love you.” He put his arm around my neck and kissed me one more time.

“But how?” I turn around one more time seeing the last lantern keep coming; Max giggles and kisses the top of my head.

“We have good friends and family.” He takes a deep breath, I can feel a smile forming in his face.

“What?” I tingle our fingers, he sees me with my favorite smile from him.

His smile covers his eyes. “I have what? 4 months until the Olympics ” I giggle and give him a peck on his cheek. “I guess I need to study a little bit more.”

Both of us laugh as we keep kissing, when we split he finally saw the necklace. The initial of my name is remplace for the <M>

He opened his eyes and I smiled. “A small correction.” 

The silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable, he’s like being at home. We tried even though it's hard to put into words.

“I love you.” 

Still, I didn’t know who said it first, but I’m pretty sure this time, I was faster than him.

[mychlapci]

sunstreaker getting hypnotised is such a good concept

maybe it starts off as something simple with bluestreak; a way to relax the gunner tells him. you'll be entirely in control, i can't really make you do anything you don't wanna.

and sunstreaker fucking loves it. his processor gets all fuzzy and the anger that he normally feels all the time gets booted to a back priority tree so his mind can only focus on the floaty sensation of being totally brainless.

bluestreak brings him back up and gives him a kiss on the cheek and sunstreaker is left with the horrible realisation that he's wet behind his panels and his spike keeps pinging him to be released and oh god that felt a lot nicer than it should've

sunstreaker letting bluestreak do whatever he wants while under the effects to the point that just being around blue makes sunny's pussy throb and twitch with anticipation. he's so not subtle about it that one day bluestreak uses the their trigger word right in the canteen because sunstreaker did say wherever and whenever right?

ough combine that with public interfacing being a common thing in autobot culture and maybe bluestreak leaves sunny like that in the mess hall, pussy dripping with transfluid and a little sticky note on his aft that says "free cunt" with a little arrow pointing to his valve

sunstreaker coming back to himself after drifting for so long and finding his beautiful finish completely scrapped and scratched. transfluid and paint transfers littering his frame and a bunch of graffiti all over his armour telling him how much of a slut he is

-burnt ice anon

Yeah…. hhgrhh… maybe it starts off as non-sexual, a way for Sunstreaker to really let go for a moment, to empty his mind and feel happy for a while. At first Bluestreak doesn't do anything to him, they just lie there together, Sunstreaker feeling all kinds of loopy, not at all paying attention to anything that's happening around him, except for the way Bluestreak's hand is running up and down his thigh, so close to his burning panels, so very close…

After a while, things escalate. Hypnotized Sunstreaker regularly opens his panels up the moment the two of them nestle into the bed, and you can't expect Bluestreak to ignore his needs. It turns into a sex thing for them so quickly, and Sunstreak doesn't care. Overloads feel so good when he's out of it, his head gets all fuzzy and his array pulses, the feeling drawn out and intense…

Bluestreak activating the hypnosis in the middle of the canteen, and Sunstreaker just melts, right in front of everyone, staring into the distance while people put their hands on his frame, scratching off his primer and staining his frame, but he doesn't care, he can't care because Bluestreak told him he feels happy, and that he wants to open his legs, and show everyone his slutty little valve and let them fuck it. And he was right. Sunstreaker does feel happy, and he does want to spread open his legs and let everyone fuck his valve… 

People manhandling him like a doll. Some of them are gentle with him, but most are… not. He doesn't complain, even if he wanted to, because his mouth only stays open to take spike or moan. How long has he been drifting? Hours, no, more than that, entire days spent as a mindless fuck-toy for all his comrades.

When Bluestreak eventually snaps his fingers and brings him back, Sunstreaker's optics focus for the first time in ages. He can taste transfluid on his tongue, and feel it dripping out of his valve. His entire frame has been bruised and there's so many signatures doodled all over his paint-job, filthy things written all over his thighs. He wants to complain, to get angry, how dare they ruin him like this- but when he looks over to Bluestreak, he tells Sunny that he shouldn't worry, because after all, he's so happy. Yeah. Yeah, maybe Sunny is happy. 

[moonlight-tmd]

What if BlitzBee started when Blitzwing and Lugnut arrived on earth?

Like, what if Blitzwing got hit with cupid's arrow the moment he saw Bee- the little yellow Autobot with a smile brighter than the sun, a frame so small yet attractive, the confidence he spoke with in the few minutes they met and, oh Primus, those enchanting azure optics-

He just can't get over that minibot.

So he devices a plan to court this golden beauty for himself. The next time the 'cons and 'bots meet, Blitzwing snatches Bumblebee the first chance he gets and ditches the whole fight. He flies up to the highest skyscraper in Detroit- there is a neat little picnic set up, oil, some rust snacks, even few fancy meal-metals that Blitz snatched from Nemesis. Bee is very confused when Blitzwing says 'why fight when you can talk', but he's not about to protest- he is on top of a very tall building and next to him is a transformer 3 times his size- he can't run and he doesn't want to die if this apparently famous criminal changes his mind.

So they spend some time together, they talk, eat the snacks, at one point Blitzwing calls him cute and Bee just doesn't know how to respond. He's never gotten a compliment before, everyone just shat on him the moment he got forged, only thing that kept him going was pure spite.

Lugnut interrupts on Blitz's comm, telling him to get his aft to base cuz the fight is over. Blitz stands up, takes Bee's servo and in an oddly romantic tone and says "Until zhe next time." then he stands on the edge and with a salute tilts back. Bee was about to say something but Blitz falls and the next thing he sees is a jet flying into the clouds.

Optimus contacted him after both of the 'cons disappeared. Bee didn't know what to tell him so he just said what happened; Blitz snached him and they had a picnic. And that he needs help getting down from a skyscraper. He was too confused to come up with a reason why this new Decepticon did that, nor were the others. They had to get a police 'copter to come get him.

The next time Bee saw Blitzwing was when he and Prowl were sent to investigate some weird activity a civilian reported- only to find Blitzwing with a whole makeshift disco ring. Blitz proceded to run at them and both of them thought he was gonna attack them- but then he pulled a smooth card and slid up on his knee to Bee and pulled out a big boquet of sunflowers. "Pretty zhings for a pretty bot.~" He said with a big red grin.

Blitz actually wanted to pull Bee to a dance before Prowl snatched him and drove away as fast as he could, Bee was glad his pedes has wheels on them otherwise he would be leaving a screeching trail of sparks.

The next meetings were more obvious- well, very obvious; Blitzwing straight up flirted with Bee whenever he saw him. The others were worried about Bee, who just seemed to take it. The most annoyed by Blitzwing's attempts to court Bee was Prowl. He didn't like that a dangerous Decepticon was trying to win one of theirs' spark- especially since that one of theirs was Bumblebee. Prowl was the one to get involved and separate the big 'con from the minibot when they fought. He kept that creep away from Bee for the most part.

One time he and Bee were patrolling they bumbed into Blitzwing. They ended up talking/bantering until Prowl spoke up and told him to leave Bee alone; a discussion evolved into an argument. Bee called in back-up, when the others got there they were met with Prowl and Blitzwing screeching at one another while Bee sat there unable to go home. They were talking with Bee when they heard a scream- Blitzwing had a kunai in his visor, "COME HERE AND I'LL GIVE YOU THE OTHER!!" Prowl yelled, holding the other kunai to stab him with. Optimus had to pick him up while the others chased Blitz away- He was absolutely ready to throw servos with the mech. They went back to base once Prowl stopped being rabid.

So from then on the ones to fight are Prowl and Blitzwing- Prowl thinks he's protecting Bee from this creep while really he's just jealous and doesn't want to admit it, he does like Bee as more than a friend and doesn't want anything bad happening to him. Blitzwing meanwhile just wants to get together with Bee and have the scout look at him with the same adoration as Blitzwing holds for him.

There are multiple times Prowl and Blitz argue so loud about Bee it becomes clear Prowl is after Bee as well. The others don't know whether they should tell Bee that or not; the scout is just very confused why everyone wants to be his best friend.

Then there comes the Elite Guard along with the other Prime, Longarm. Longarm- or rather Shockwave has been close friends with Bee since boot camp, he really liked Bee and wanted to ask him out on multiple occasions, but similar to Prowl- he just never built up the courage to do so. So he gets there and sees this whole drama with both Blitzwing and Prowl trying to win Bee's Spark.

So, of course, he has to get involved. Longarm is very chill and doesn't make it so obvious. He and Bee hang out, no one suspects anything and Bee actually enjoys it- that's until things get very heated with Prowl and Blitzwing and Longarm also gets jealous and whoops, one wrong comment and it's obvious he's after Bee too.

So now there's these 3 disasters trying to court Bee while also trying to eliminate the other 2. Bee is just sitting in Bulk's subspace all the time, worried to go out because both Prowl and Longarm are at the base and he can't go outside cuz Blitzwing is there.

Now you might think he'll be after Bee too, but nah. He openly admits he'll never see Bee as anything more than a best friend.

I think at one point Starscream will get involved, he'll kidnap Bee for fun- he doesn't actually know what's going on, he just likes seeing everyone pissed off.

Blitz will have a public argument with Longarm about him being a spy to eliminate him from the competition- which Longarm of course denies. Not sure what that will lead to.

I don't know where to take it, it's just a funny idea with no actual ending. Feel free to send me suggestions on what might happen and who are you rooting for. X3

[dominimoonbeam]

To The Edge - 10

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

story tags: scifi romance, hijinks in space, rogues learning to trust, violence, blood, guns, death, explicit language, so much kidnapping,

Works organized and easily found over on the patreon. <3

TO THE EDGE - CHAPTER 10.

He still had bits of tape stuck to his clothes and the residue on his wrists when he stormed down the long corridors of Carina, one of the worst outposts in the whole stretch of dark space he called home.

He couldn’t believe they’d tased him again.

He checked his gun before holstering it against his thigh, hands still twitching from the electricity. Could he even aim the damn thing right now if he needed to? Maybe it was a good thing if he couldn’t, because his first shot might be for that primer.

He hadn’t been unconscious for long, though it had taken him a few minutes to get his legs under him and then find his damn guns.

His vision still had waves at the edges when he reached the station proper. A hub of transport and exchange buzzed around him, making him sway into a wall but never stop moving forward. Ships docked along arms in all directions on twenty levels, cargo pushed on trollies and driven on trucks into that center ring. He willed himself not to drop when all that sound and movement hit him at once.

Closing his eyes, Rory dragged a breath and then a second before opening his eyes and accessing his optic implant. He had maps of the whole station from previous visits, blue light in his vision putting up signs and arrows, making order out of that jumbled mess. He pulled up the tracking program and there they were, a pulse of yellow light down the corridor on the seventh floor up from where he stood.

He took the stairs rather than waiting on an available lift and with each flight he felt himself shaking off the residual disorientation and twitches of that electric shock.

When he reached the same floor as them, their beacon of light flashed at him through walls, somewhere in that direction.

Rory turned down a hall and a mercenary stepped into his path, hand on his gun and mouth pulled in a sneer.

It wasn’t like he was wearing a badge that said he was a mercenary, it was just sort of obvious after decades of dealing with them. It was the gear, the stance, and the confidence. “You’re heading the wrong way, buddy,” the guy said. A second mercenary leaned against the wall near an open docking door to their ship.

The problem with mercenaries, in Rory’s opinion, was that they were so easy to identify, and yet none of them had any idea what a bounty hunter looked like when they saw one. They saw military. They saw other mercs. And they saw pirates. But Rory? Rory was a background civilian to these people.

He pulled his gun so fast the merc barely had time to register it… and then he shot him.

The merc fell with a groan, hands to his bleeding middle, and Rory leveled the barrel on the second one. She wasn’t leaning against the wall anymore, her full attention on the situation and her hand on her gun, half-pulled from the holster before being caught in his line.

Rory laughed shakily, still looking at the second one when he said to the first. “Sorry, buddy. I meant to shoot you in the leg. I think I’m still twitching…”

The first just groaned and rolled, crying now.

“Where’s my bounty?” he asked the second.

She hadn’t let go of her gun yet. Was she waiting for a chance to pull and try her luck? “What are you talking about?”

Rory clocked the welt on her cheek and recently opened scabs on her knuckles. “Oh, I think you’ve met them. We both know I can’t stand here for long. Give them back or you’ll be on the ground with your friend.”

Her gaze didn’t budge and her hand didn’t drop.

The mercenary on the floor kicked onto his back and pulled a gun from his thigh, lifting it in a second wind of violent desperation. Mercenaries were good at that. Pirates would run, plea, and beg. Mercenaries would die with gritted teeth, taking as many people down with them. Though Rory appreciated that trait poetically, it was a nightmare in practicality.

He lunged forward, shouldering the second mercenary into the wall while dodging the first shot and trying to stop her from pulling her gun. He stretched his arm down and fired another round into the merc on the floor, still struggling with the second. She kneed him hard in the thigh, dropping him to his knee and getting her gun free.

Rory caught her hand and pushed it away just as she fired, her shot going wide while his barrel pressed right up against her chest. Her body muffled the shot and he grunted, pushing himself to his feet while she dropped to the side.

He ducked through the doorway they had been guarding, shoulder to the wall of the long hall as he jogged the length to the ship, inside just before another mercenary came around a corner.

How many were there?

The whole interior of the ship pulsed in yellow for his vision, telling him they were there…somewhere.

The mercenary held up his hands, gaze flicking between Rory’s face and his already-drawn weapon. “I think you’ve made a big mistake,” they said.

Rory was honestly surprised this one hadn’t called him buddy too. “Where are they?”

The mercenary shrugged, hands slowly lowering. They took a step back and to the side.

“I said, where is my fucking bounty?” Rory yelled, keeping his eye and his gun on the merc.

“What are you talking about?” They weren’t even trying to sound confused.

“You heard me!” His hand started shaking, not from nerves but from the fucking electric shocks of the last day. “I know you have them! I know they hired you and I’m guessing you already double-crossed them. I’m giving you a chance to hand over what’s mine before you end up like the rest of your crew.”

The merc grinned at the tremble in his hand, reading it all wrong. Their own hand, steady, drifted toward the gun holstered against their thigh.

“Don’t draw that on me…” Rory warned. “I swear, if you—”

Fearless, the mercenary pulled their gun—probably already imagining their own legend unfolding from this moment.

Rory fired before the gun was even free, blowing the merc back into the wall in a heap.

He sighed, holstering his weapon and shaking out his twitching hand.

“Okay,” he said, more to himself than anyone else, turning to consider the ship for the first time. “You’re here somewhere, Stardust. I know you’re here and you’re still alive so…”

He spun toward a thump and blinked down at a cargo box.

Something inside knocked again.

Rory bit back a laugh, stepping closer. “Stardust…are you in the box?”

A series of thumps rattled off inside the metal container.

He tapped on the outside and they drummed angrily inside. “Okay, knock twice for yes. Do you regret trying to hire these guys?”

The pause was palpable. Rory waited.

Knock. Knock.

He laughed, forgetting his anger about all the trouble they’d put him through. “Yeah. You’re lucky that bounty on you made it really clear your family wants you back alive…” This was perfect. He cast his gaze around for a way to move the box. “You’re awfully quiet though. Did they gag you too?

Knock. Knock.

“Smart. I’m kind of sorry I killed them now. They had the right idea…” This couldn’t be better. He found a trolley and pushed the cargo off of it. Boxes of protein bars busted open, spilling brightly wrapped rectangles onto the floor. “You’re lucky I caught up to you before they left the station. How long did it take for them to realize you were worth more as a bounty than an employer? Oh yeah, you can’t answer that… Yes or no questions…”

He looked at the crate. “Are you sorry you stole my ship?”

In the pause before the two soft knocks, he imagined their scowl.

“Are you going to behave if I open the box?”

Rory waited.

The knocks were quick.

He laughed. They were a shit liar even when they were gagged. “Yeah, I don’t believe you, Stardust. Not even a little bit.” Without jostling them too much, Rory hefted the crate onto the trolley. “I’m convinced that you’re incapable of staying out of trouble, which would have made you a great friend in another life but right now you’re a terrible bounty.”

They beat what he hoped was their boot against the side of the box, screams that sounded a lot like they were meant to be swears muffled inside.

“Settle down.” He pushed them past the dead mercenary and down the hall, toward more bodies. Would they care? They hadn’t been exactly squeamish about the pirates he dropped when he picked them up. “You’re not getting out of the box yet. In fact, I’m thinking I’ll drill a hole in the top here to drop in some water bottles and protein bars when we get back to the ship. Maybe you can stay in there until we get you home.” He had to kick one of the mercenary’s legs out of the way to get the cart around the corner.

Stardust banged against the lid of their box.

“Yeah, yeah, the restraints and the gag.” Dropping food and water in wouldn’t work. “I wonder what their plan was for keeping you alive in there… Or maybe they thought they’d let you out once they were on their way. Poor fools. You would have done a number on them.”

He turned down the main hall, into the flow of other visitors moving cargo around to the lifts. Carina wasn’t a lawful station by any stretch, even for the edge, but getting out of there before someone decided to care about the dead mercs was probably the best move. The last thing he needed was someone else realizing how much the cargo in that crate was worth.

He took the lift back down to the floor where Stardust had parked his ship.

“Do you still have that jacket?” he wondered aloud. If anyone noticed him talking, they would assume it was on a call over his optic implant and not to the person in the box he was pushing.

Stardust kicked and thumped wildly.

Rory laughed, biting his tongue to try to stop. It was just too good. “Calm down! We’re coming up on a checkpoint and I’d rather not have to shoot anyone else for you today…” Really, if Stardust had paid a little extra to park on one of the higher levels, they could skip the checkpoint. It was really just a shakedown for a little extra credit.

The augmented human stood in his path, one scope eye twisting side to side to analyze him and his cargo. “What do you have there?” they asked, voice shuddering with a synthetic rattle. Another augment stood behind them, more machine than human to the point where Rory wasn’t entirely sure they were alive and not just a statue.

“In this?” Rory asked, pointing at the crate on the trolley like there was any other crate they might be asking about.

Stardust screamed and thumped wildly inside the box.

The augment lifted the eyebrow they still had and he instantly hoped they never gave up that swatch of skin for more metal and tech because it was a very expressive gesture, especially with that smirk.

Rory leaned against the handlebar of the trolley. “Bought them off a skin ship. I wouldn’t suggest getting a peak. I hear they’re a biter.”

The smirk became a grin. They had metal teeth. “You’re into biting?”

“Oh, I’m just transporting,” he clarified and held out a plastic card between fingers.

The augment took it, their scope eyes honing in on the card to read the prepaid credit value before their smile turned polite and disinterested. “Have a good night,” they said, stepping back.

“Yeah, you have a good night too,” Rory pushed on, into the quieter hallway leading off into arms numbered by parking spots at the station.

His cargo had been quiet since their attempt at getting rescued. They would have been better off with the mercs than the cut-throat muscle working Carina. But how could they know that? “Did you really think they’d care? You have no idea where you are, Stardust. You should be thanking me for trying to get you home.”

There were no knocks of agreement or thumps of rage this time.

Rory laughed, pushing them back to his ship.

The door opened and he finally got them back onboard, parking their dumb ass on the deck while he manually locked the ship.

When he came back to the deck, they were pushing at the lid of their box, like it might suddenly be open.

The bounty hunter laughed and shook his head, even if they couldn’t see it. “Oh no, you’re staying in there until I’m done resetting the systems controls.”

They kept thumping but he ignored them, opening a panel to get at the primary access controls for the ship. In all the cycles he’d been picking up bounties, some willing and some definitely not, this was the first time he’d lost control of his ship.

When Stardust continued to thump, he tried a command and flooded the deck with music, pleased it had worked and even more so that the beat synced up with the primer’s tantrum nicely.

[ghostpalmtechnique]

(Red arrow is me.) I was already more-or-less incandescent about the "activist left" when we only had the top row. I'm not sure the generally measured tone of my Tumblr posting is conveying the scale of anger the Hamas-apologia is creating among Jewish people.

At a rally sponsored by the NYC DSA yesterday. the organizers asked someone who showed up with a sign explicitly condoning what Hamas did on October 7 to put the sign away.

I want you to think about that. They did not ask them to leave. Because the problem, apparently, is the optics for DSA and not the fact that they are standing shoulder-to-shoulder with a would-be genocidaire.

This from the "if there are five people having dinner with a Nazi, there are six Nazis at the table" people. And they think we should be like, "bygones be bygones" because the sign got put away until later?!

Fuck those people.

(original image from https://twitter.com/luiswenus/status/1711910413233721660)