#calm before the storm au

[celestiall0tus]

Calm Before the Storm - Chapter 4 - Anniversary

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            Emilie knocked on Adrien’s door. She grinned as she stepped inside and saw Adrien sitting on his couch, watching TV. She closed the distance and tackled him in a hug.

            “Oh, Adrien! You know what day it is?” Emilie cooed.

            “Uh, Tuesday?” Roarr said.

            Emilie blinked and stepped back. She looked down at Adrien as he transformed into Roarr.

            “Roarr? Where’s Adrien?”

            “Uh, you won’t be mad, will you?”

            “Roarr.”

            “Ok, ok. He headed out early to do… stuff.”

            Emilie’s shoulders dropped. “But… but we were supposed to hang out today. It was the one-year anniversary since Velze and we were reunited.”

            “Sorry, Emilie.”

            Emilie gave a weak smile before she left for Nathalie’s office. She peeked inside and saw Nathalie at her desk. She stepped lightly to Nathalie and sat in Nathalie’s lap.

            “To what do I owe this visit?” Nathalie teased.

            “Adrien is gone, and we were supposed to hang out today.”

            Nathalie groaned. “That boy, I swear. He needs to let go. It’s been a year. I swear, he’s too much like Gabriel.”

            “What more can we do? We’ve tried therapy, we’ve talked to him, but he’s not listening to anyone. I just… I don’t know what to do and he’s on the track of repeating Gabriel’s mistakes.”

            “I know. It may be time for drastic action,” Nathalie suggested.

            “What are you talking about?”

            “I need to think on it and see what would be the most appropriate course of action. Once I figure something out, I’ll be sure to let you know. You are his mother, so you should have a say in it.”

            Emilie smiled softly and leaned her head on Nathalie’s shoulder. “We’re his moms, Nathalie. Don’t forget now.”

            Nathalie smiled. “I haven’t, but you were here first. I owe it to you to have a choice as well.”

            Emilie sighed and kissed Nathalie’s cheek. “Thank you. Do you think, perhaps, we could spend time together? Our anniversary is a ways off, but it is also the day we were reunited as well.”

            “I’d love to.”

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[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

What if instead of threatening to take Ford's eyes, Bill just took Fiddleford's?

Tate still remembered the night his father's sight was taken from him.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

He felt the storm coming even before the first lightning struck. From the very moment he opened his eyes that morning until the very moment he lay back down to bed, he could feel a vicious tension brewing in the otherwise serene household.

Storms were very uncommon at Tate's house, and on the rare occasions they did arrive, they never stayed for long.

Yet, after a quiet breakfast full of anxious, unmet glances and clattering cutlery that rang far too loudly in the silence of the table, he knew that this storm was going to be unlike any other storm he'd witnessed before.

A prickling, disquieting static seemed to have made itself at home underneath his skin, that day. It had made every hair on his body stand on end, and an odd stinging sensation to dance across his spine and tongue; an uncomfortable urge to duck and take cover low on the ground nearly overwhelming his every sense. It was like waiting for the shattering thunderclap to sound after the sky turned white with a blinding flash of light. He knew what was coming, and the anticipation was unbearable.

His mother and father had acted as though nothing was wrong; as though they didn't feel the looming presence of the darkening clouds growing like a murky gray forest on the ceiling.

He hadn't been able to fathom at the time how adults could seem so all-knowing, and yet simultaneously be so utterly clueless about the very obvious happenings that surrounded them. Now, though, he just found it strange how adults often tend to assume children don't feel the stifling weight that they hung around themselves; as if children didn't breathe the same bitter choked air as their parents did. It wasn't even as though they did a very good job at pretending; his parents always were terrible liars.

When the lightning finally struck, it set the house ablaze.

He heard the thunder from his room, and felt the crackling heat crawl up the stairs and seep through the gap beneath his door. He'd laid in his bed, hand clasped nervously across his chest and looking up at his room's cloudy, weeping ceiling as a cacophonic explosion of noises came bursting from the living room downstairs. The fight had erupted with such unprecedented force that in Tate's young mind, he'd felt genuine fear of the house collapsing atop them all from the sheer force of the yelling.

The smell of burnt tongues gently wafted through the air, and Tate briefly wondered if it hurt his parents when they scorched their mouths with such scalding words just as much as it hurt for him to hear it.

It was a big fight; a terrible, big fight; so loud, and so very angry, and helpless, and desperate, and betrayed, and sad.

The back and forth screeching seemed endless, and eventually the screaming words began to muddle and merge into one another until they hardly even sounded human anymore. Suddenly there were animals wailing in the living room downstairs, and Tate could do nothing but listen helplessly and grip his interlocked fingers tighter; hoping that if he stayed still enough, then the growling beasts that were shattering plates downstairs wouldn't come upstairs.

But then,

then,

something changed.

The shift was all too sudden; too abrupt; too quick even for the usually sharp witted child to catch on, and before he knew it, the screams of anger suddenly shifted into one of pure, unadulterated horror.

"Fiddleford, your eyes- good lord, your eyes! Let me look at them!" "Don't touch me! I- I must call Stanford, he's done something to me. Him and that demon, they've cursed me." "For Heaven's sake! Please, forget about that damned Stanford of yours for one moment and listen to yourself! My husband's gone mad, mad!"

And suddenly his parents were human again.

Tate was restless in his bed as his heart seemed to beat bruises against his ribs, his sweaty fingers digging crescent shaped grooves into his skin as fear enclosed its frigid claws around his throat in a vice-like grip. He couldn't breathe.

The storm was over, and it should have reassured him, and yet he was anything but.

Curiosity and fear had been what forced him to kick the sheets off himself and creep his way down the rickety wooden steps. He had to know what happened, he had to know what damage the storm had caused, he had to know.

His steps were far from quiet, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet hardly did him any favors, but no one answered the calls of the squeaking wood. No one came peeking out from the living room to stop the obviously sneaking presence that was tip toeing through the halls; No one called out to check on their little child; all was silent, and calm, except for his mother's soft sobbing coming from the kitchen.

When Tate eventually found his father, he saw

devastation.

The storm had been merciless. It had left nothing behind but a shuddering husk of a man. His father was shaking like a leaf, shoulders tense and back hunched over as though bowed by an incredible burden. The telephone receiver was held in his hand like a lifeline; as if it was the only thing in the world that was keeping him tethered to sanity, and somehow, Tate didn't doubt that it was.

Curled up on the floor in the dark, muttering and trembling, he dared say his father looked... small.

It almost felt surreal to see his father in such a state, like witnessing a God collapse, or a star's light dim to nothingness. His father had always been a solid, permanent pillar sho seemed able to hold up the whole world on his shoulders, and still stand tall and proud despite the weight.

And yet, the crumbling remains of a once impermeable monolith now lay scattered across the hallway floor and splattered across the walls.

The sight had scared him.

At the time, Tate hadn't known what had happened. Even to this day, he still wasn't too sure he understood what exactly had taken place in that living room for his father to have so sudddenly gone from seeing to blind in the matter of seconds.

His mother had tried, in vain, to explain it to him later, to try and make him understand when he was eventually old enough to hear the gruesome tale; but still, he struggled to fully wrap his head around it.

"It was as though his eyes just sunk into his skull," his mother had recounted to him with a haunted look in her eyes. "They suddenly just vanished into the empty sockets of his face, like someone pulled them out from inside his head. There was no blood, no resistance, no tearing. It was as if his eyes were simply plucked out of sight by some invisible hand."

There had been blood on the walls when he had found father back then, a long trail of gorey wet red smeared all across the lovely yellow wallpaper. He realized only now, recalling the memory, that the blood back then had not been from his father's eyes, but from the deep gouges he had dug into his face with his nails, his searching fingers desperately looking for eyes that weren't there beneath his empty eyelids.

"What have you done to me, Stanford?"

Tate had never heard his father's voice sound so raw, so afraid. It was so unlike the familiar comforting drawl he'd grown to love and recognize, it almost sounded alien, coming from his father.

"I can't see, Stanford, I can't- my eyes, they're gone. Why are they gone? What have you done?" "Answer me, damnit, what have you done?"

His father never got his answer, because whoever was on the other side of the line soon hung up, and his father was suddenly left blind and alone.

[feketeribizli]

jackson the kinda guy to not give a fuck

[shamrockqueen]

Omega retreat : Chapter 2

Pairing: Alpha Bucky × Omega Reader

Warnings: R18, Eventual Smut, Not what it seems, talk of medical issues/illness, dating site, ABO dynamics

Word count: 2477

Chapter 1

Bucky masterlist

Summary: As an unmarked and lonely omega you find a flyer for a service called The Omega Retreat.

You are paired with a compatible alpha to spend your heat or just a week at a luxurious cabin at a forest resort. Amenities and Utilities included. Enjoy the beautiful scenery, fresh air, as well as the company of an alpha of your choosing. What could possibly go wrong?

The blue screen of your laptop lit up the dark and gloomy room as you booted it up and set your sights on the internet explorer icon.

Your eyes shift back and forth from the slightly crunched flier to the keyboard as you type up the website in the search bar.

Upon clicking enter, there is a cascade of red and pink hearts across the screen before the main page comes into view.

From the photos, it seems kind of like a glamping thing, with each couple or pairing having their own semi-remote cabin.

Singles retreats weren’t a new concept—not that you’ve ever been to one, but this would be a whole week alone with a stranger, a man, an alpha.

That familiar twang of anxiety twisted in your chest at the thought, only for it to be snuffed out by another.

‘We all have to grow up at some point’.

You eyed the two packages listed on the screen, one labeled as Silver and the other Gold. The silver package went by, Forget me knot.” and you felt yourself chuckle a little at how cheesy it sounded. It was a 4-day stay at one of the cabins with an alpha provided by the website's dating algorithm.

The Gold package had another cheesy line listed as “Heat of the Night." It listed a full-week stay for the duration of the omega’s heat with your new Alpha.

The prospect was, of course, very tantalizing, but it still didn’t fail to make you nervous. You had never spent a heat with someone before, and it seemed a little scary. Was a week with a stranger worth seeing what you were missing out on?

You clicked the icon for the Gold package without thinking further, blinking at the screen as it shifted to the sign-up page. You’d only wanted further info but it looked like only members could access it. It was, however, free to sign up, a claim made by many websites and apps before it. Yet, even at the free level, it seemed you could at least get to look at the Alpha bachelors they had in their database. Just another step to pull you in closer to spending the big bucks.

It asked for a photo at first, making you hesitate before finally deciding on one simple photo of yourself. It had been your birthday, and your mother was by your side, hugging your shoulder. You had to crop out most of your mom, but your big smile still beamed just as brightly across the screen. You typed in a shortened version of your name for your little profile, along with your age, before clicking the next button.

The page flipped to a quick questionnaire, asking about your likes and dislikes—everything from your bedtime routine to your bedroom habits. It barely toed the line of TMI, but you supposed it had to be thorough to find you a match. You clicked through each question, making sure every answer felt right. Before you could tell, it had been half an hour and you were only almost finished. You snuggled yourself into your plush couch as you finally clicked the submit button.

A little spinning heart pops up on the scream alongside ‘finding your perfect match’ underneath it. The heart spun around on the screen until the loading bar hit 100 and the page shifted over to show your results.

Your eyes widen at the selection of handsome men flooding the screen. There are more Alphas flashing over your computer than you’ve ever seen in one small space, and already there are too many to choose from.

Part of you figured that to a seasoned romantic, it would seem like small potatoes, but to you, it was more men than you knew what to do with. The only distraction that could tear your eyes away was a heart-shaped character at the corner of the screen babbling away in a little text box. His happy little demeanor reminds you of a certain talking paperclip from old office software. Only you found this little guy less irritating.

‘We have selected 20 of your most suitable partners. Please choose from the profiles below to chat and find your match.’

You clicked the speech bubble away, only for another to pop up.

‘Don’t forget to check out our selection of getaways for your official meetup’ popped up across the page.

You clicked again, and another bubble came after.

‘If for any reason you are unsatisfied with your matches, please take the quiz again.’

You take the little heart man’s words into consideration before clicking back towards the alpha profiles.

The first was a rough-looking man named Brock. Too macho for your type, and you shied away from his profile immediately.

The next one was a sweet, gentle-looking man named Steve. He seemed really interested in a lifetime mate, but as romantic as it seemed, you just weren’t too sure that was what you wanted just yet.

It was a little overwhelming. All these men were stunning, and yet the scared little omega inside of you kept turning tail at the gleam of each of their smiles, leading you to click at the next button again and again.

You’d gone through 12 profiles until you stopped on his picture. His brown hair sat at the base of his neck, looking soft and supple enough to tangle your fingers through, and his smile was immediately infectious.

The name James ‘Bucky’ Barnes sat below the photo in bold, but you barely noticed as your gaze locked on his light, smiling blue eyes.

You feel both your heart and your core flutter, leading to a wave of warmth and a bit of unearned embarrassment. You didn’t think any further before clicking his profile, showing you more about this ‘Bucky’.

It gave a broad list of hobbies, his likes and dislikes, as well as so many more dreamy photos.

His profiles stated he was interested in a mate but “wanted to test the waters first." Not interested in being too serious, but not scared of a commitment.

Even though this man seemed like an absolute dream, you couldn’t help but second-guess yourself. Yet, the butterflies in your stomach overpowered the worries in the back of your mind. You let your cursor hover over the match button on his profile before slowly clicking down on the mouse and watching with bated breath as the screen changed again.

That little heart man, now less animated, was the last sight you saw after you clicked. He was accompanied by a few speech bubbles saying, “The alpha you have chosen will be notified; please feel free to browse our events as you wait.”

The word ‘events’ was lit up in another color separate from the text and clearly a link to the rest of the website. At the end of the day, they WERE trying to sell you something, but curiosity got the better of you, and you clicked the link without another thought.

You looked over the two packages they offered and let your cursor hover over the gold package. You stared at its short description, comparing it with the smaller vacation bundle that sat beside it on the screen. You think it over and cautiously click on the icon.

The prices were the first thing that struck you, as none of them were very expensive for what they were advertising. Saving a few bucks always seemed to sweeten the deal, but it really made it all seem too good to be true.

The resort has a full staff available in case of an emergency and are simply a call away. All meals would come in the form of meal kits or ready-made gourmet dinners, as well as a selection of wine and spirits for those 21 and over.

There was a little policy note at the bottom, in smaller letters.

“All reservations are refundable upon cancellation 7 days before the date of the reservation. If you cancel your stay after 7 days, you will be charged a cancellation fee. In the event that your desired partner declines your match, you will be prompted to choose another alpha from the list given to you.”

The idea of being rejected by a stranger online made some of the appeal wear thin. You x-ed out of the pop-up, only to notice a notification lighting up your screen.

He had matched with you immediately, causing another flutter of hearts to pulse over the computer for one moment. On the little message icon sat the number one to indicate somebody had reached out to you, and you clicked on it right away.

The chat room opens up on your screen to show a little chat box bubble saying, “Hi beautiful ;)". The old-style winky face gave his age away and made some of the insecurities in your belly melt.

This 'James' had matched you so soon, and to have him reach out to you on your screen still made you nervous.

The bouncing dots popped up below the first message to indicate he was still typing. You're frozen on the spot as the messages just keep popping up.

“Hello?”

It seemed a bit impatient, but you didn’t think to care; you were too thrilled by this new encounter.

“Hi, sorry, I was..” Oh god, what could you say? “…away from the phone.” Not true, but telling your possible new beau that you were frozen with fear upon seeing his message seemed, well, lame.

“That’s ok.”

“You new here? I haven’t seen your profile before.”

“Yeah. I just signed up.”

“Does that mean I was your first choice? ;)”

You felt you should be honest after your previous fib, and answered immediately.

“ I just saw your profile and clicked it right away. I didn’t expect you to get back to me so soon.”

“Leave a beautiful Omega like you waiting? Not a chance, doll.”

Every word made the air grow thinner, making your head just swim in the rising heat that started to subtly overtake your body. It was such a new feeling to have warmth in your body feel so good.

Those three dots danced across his next speech bubble, and you waited every second for his next word.

“Have you ever been with an alpha before? I’d hate to come on too strong and scare you away.”

Your breath felt shallow before you answered truthfully. “No, I haven’t.”

There have only ever been two people you’ve given yourself to like that. Two particularly nice betas who just couldn’t help you as you needed, but tried anyway. Being with an Alpha seemed like so much more of a big deal, but the idea of a big, horny monster sinking their teeth into your flesh makes you start to hyperventilate. It was permanent, and you didn’t want to just throw away your forever to someone who could be cruel to you.

But something about this felt different. He looked so soft and kind, you could nearly feel his finger gently caressing your cheek as each word popped up on your screen. Something about this encounter felt safe.

You typed without thinking, letting the question fill the screen as anxiety ate away at the warmth that once sat in your belly. “Does that bother you?”

You waited for a response, watching those little dots until they disappeared without a new message. A solid minute felt like an eternity, and your heart sank further as each one ticked by.

You typed out a quick “I’m sorry," hoping you weren’t the one scaring him off instead with your lack of experience.

You breathed a sigh of relief as his response popped up. “Do not be sorry. There is no problem with wanting to wait.” Followed by another “I feel like a lucky guy.”

“I guess I’m just a little embarrassed; I’m glad it doesn’t bother you.” You typed away, fully engrossed in his attention.

“Don’t be; that kind of thing means more than you’d think in this day in age.”

It popped across your screen, giving you much-needed relief, only for the next message to set your nerves ablaze all over again.

“What made you decide to join the site?”

It popped over your screen faster than you could shoo it away. The reason for you was obvious after dragging yourself through that doctor's office. You needed help, and somehow that simple red flier had shown out to you like a beacon on a stormy shore.

You wanted to be honest, but some things felt better kept close to yourself than within the reach of others. You answered with the shallow truth.

“Dating can be difficult. I found the advertisement today and decided to check things out.” You tapped the enter button and sent the message, but your fingers continued to type. Maybe it was an attempt to keep his questions from probing into your answer even further, as you sent him an inquiry of your own.

“What about you? What made you decide to join the website?”

The laptop sat silently, aside from the whirring of its little fan. No bouncing dots, no indication of his response. Maybe his reasons were somehow more personal than your own.

You began to lose a little faith as the chat room continued to sit empty until his chat bubble finally popped up. Each second it took for the words to show was a second too long.

“I’d say it’s about the same. I guess I just wanted to try something different.”

“And how’s it working out so far?”

“I’d say, far better since you popped up.”

It was such a cliche line, but you loved it. You even laughed a little as you typed back.

“That fast, huh? It’s been less than a day "

“But you’ve already made my whole week.”

It brought an immediate smile to your rosy face. It was so fun—almost a fantasy. No danger, no recourse, no fear. You looked back at his little picture on the screen, his smiling face; it was a far cry from any other alpha already, and you hadn’t even seen him in the very flesh.

But it had been less than a day, and it was an obvious blow to this little oasis that had built around you in the matter of minutes. You didn’t want this moment to end, not when reality was waiting for you afterward.

The hours passed as you did each playful word with this ‘James’.

“I can’t wait to meet you, Omega.”

Your heart fluttered to an unnatural rhythm the moment it popped onto your screen.

"Omego,” you repeated his use of your denomination.

For a whole week, you could be the omega to his Alpha. You thought about the glamorous getaways your matchmaker had advertised. So you thought that, just maybe, that could be you.

Chapter 3

Tag List : @bethyruth-deactivated20231124 @scott-loki-barnes @wintrsoldrluvr

[hairmetal666]

Eddie slips slowly into consciousness, and he feels—good. Warm and safe and happy; light. Fuck, he doesn’t remember the last time he’s had this weightless kind of contentment. And the body tucked up behind him, warm and soft, holding him tight around the waist.

Steve.

Flashes of their night flick behind his eyelids, laughter and kisses and the tight slip of Steve’s body. Steve lying under him, smiling up at him, as he made the prettiest, neediest sounds, as Eddie moved inside him. And Eddie swears, swears, that when he looked into Steve’s eyes, he saw stars.

The memory hits him like a burst of sunlight in his chest.

The arms around his waist tighten, and he thinks, just for a second, that maybe he’s never been happier. That this—Steve—is what he’s been waiting for.  

Soft lips press at his neck, his shoulder, hand sliding down his thigh. He rolls over, something like bliss settling just under his skin, and he can’t help the smile that grows across his mouth. There’s a flare of pain, a small burst, the spill of blood on his tongue.

Chapter 19 of Forever is the Sweetest Con up on ao3 now!

[guroseinsei]

since nanowrimo decided to fuck us all over ive been referring to this writing month as writevember.

😤 wips pls cooperate with me so i can finish some of y'all im begging

[sirbird]

Peaceful

[the-cashtealer]

[Skihawken RP] "Him." - P1.

• Part 2 •

[ @1940s-onceler | @nalak-bel 's & @the-cashtealer | @ampreh 's]

[rosie-b]

Centuries Overdue

Chapter 4

Excerpt from the ninth journal of Adrien Agreste, written at the Agreste mansion in Paris, France, on the twenty-fourth of June, 1810.

I think this House is full of Ghosts. Around every corner I hear Laughter; through the Walls there comes a Sob; beneath my Bed the Darkness hides, ready to pull me out and slaughter me for its Revenge…

Did I write before that we never found the Mage responsible for the Darkness, even after we defeated it? There was no Body, no Spellbook, not one single Sign of who it was who betrayed us.

At the end of the Battle there was a great Cry, a loud Wailing which still haunts my dreams. Then the Darkness gathered into itself and exploded in a great display of power and Cowardice which left us no doubt that the Mage behind it was Dead.

I have told myself that I ought to be relieved, as the other Mages are, that at last the Darkness is vanquished. For a time, I fooled myself into thinking that I was!

But as all lies ever must do, this one I told Myself crumbled, leaving more Pain in its wake than it had initially hidden.

I cannot help but feel that I have failed. There was no moment when I saw the Face of my parents’ murderer, no time when I felt Closure for bringing safety to the rest of our Community.

The Mages are safe. The Talents are not; they have died, they have died in great numbers and no-one will answer for their deaths. Death chosen by one who finally sees that their loss is imminent brings no peace to the ones they have hurt. The Mage of Darkness was a Coward who faced no punishment despite committing very many crimes. Am I wrong to feel like that Mage won, and not the group who vanquished the Darkness?

I find myself flinching at every Shadow, and there are many in my parents’ house. It has been empty of their Presence for decades, but it searches for them, it waits on them to return. And it finds Me in their place, instead. I can only imagine it to be Angry.

I never lived in this House, but I came here and claimed it as mine with an old Deed given to me by M. Bourgeois, who kept the House from falling apart while my Parents and I were gone. I look like my Mother, and a little like my Father, and yet I am nothing like them. They will never live here again, but I, a reminder of their Existence, do presently. Were I this abandoned House, I would be angered, too, by the situation. A new Darkness lives in this place. I can feel it, and I cannot blame it for existing.

But I still find myself sensing Darkness elsewhere. Along my journey to my foreign home country, I felt It ever at my back, always reaching out for my shoulder as if to tap it, yet It vanished the moment I turned around. It is in the streets of Paris, on the rooftops, in the warm restaurants, in my Home.

There is something afoot in Paris, something sinister stirring yet again. I begin to believe that the Defeat we handed the Darkness in Blå Jungfrun was not as decisive as we had hoped, that the Darkness I feel now is the same as the One we had thought destroyed.

And yet…

I know that we defeated the Darkness. I saw it with my own eyes. This Feeling of mine is nothing more than Mischief and a passing fancy.

I will not write any more on the matter.

__*__*__*__*__

“Repeat after me,” Alya said, and Marinette immediately nodded.

It had been one week since she somewhat-accidentally infiltrated the Mage meeting, and now she was at another one, this time as an invited guest. And possibly, a new Mage, if this test proved that she had magic powers, that was.

“It’s just one spell. One tiny illusion, and we’re not going to throw you out if it doesn’t work.”

Marinette nodded again, blinking rapidly as her anxiety whispered a dozen ways this could go wrong in her ear.

“You don’t need to worry at all.”

Another nod, this one barely visible.

“What I’m trying to say is, relax , Marinette! The worst thing that could happen is you accidentally making a fake flower a few sizes too big! Illusions never hurt anyone, remember?”

From her perch on top of the new sofa the cafè had gotten, Alix leaned forward and grinned. 

“Well, technically. They can be pretty deadly in battle. But only indirectly!” she backpedaled at Alya’s glare.

Marinette leaned her head back and groaned, “Ohh, Alya, do you really think I should do this?”

Alya folded the spellbook under her arm and reached out with the other to pat Marinette’s shoulder. “Of course, girl! There are literally no bad outcomes, and can you imagine how cool it would be if you turned out to be a Mage of Trixx, too? I’ve been hoping for this ever since I met you, even though I thought it was unrealistic at the time! Come on, Marinette. I’m not letting you leave this cafè until you at least try!”

Marinette smiled at Alya’s firm brand of encouragement. “Okay, okay! I’ll do my best,” she said, stretching out her fingers and wiggling them like she was warming up to draw a design for class. “I’m ready.”

Smiling approvingly, Alya opened the spellbook to the dog-eared page. “All right. First say, ‘mirage,’ and then picture a flower.”

“That’s it?” Marinette asked, astounded. None of Adrien’s spells looked this simple! And none of them were in French! “Let me see that.”

Standing on her tippy-toes, Marinette strained to look at the spellbook and scoured the page for the gibberish language from Adrien’s journals. There it was! But Alya wanted her to speak the spell in French anyway! How did that make sense?

“Trust me, Marinette,” Alya said, amused. “Just because a spell is recorded in a way that keeps it safe from enemy eyes doesn’t mean it has to be spoken in the same way. This code is protected by magic, but it represents all the same letters the normal French alphabet does. Spells can be spoken in any language, as long as they’re properly translated. Look, this one is in French; this symbol is ‘m,’ this one is ‘i,’ and if you put them all together, they make the word ‘mirage.’ Do you get it?”

Sinking back onto her feet, Marinette nodded, feeling a bit stupid. “Oh. So, it’s like there’s an eternal illusion spell cast on the letters?”

“Close! It was cast on the concept of the code itself, so that anything written in it can only be decoded by someone who was willingly taught the code by a Mage or, in the past, a Talent. I’m going to teach you how to decode it, too, and then you can read as many spells as you want.”

“Even the ones in Adrien’s journals?”

Alya nodded. “Even those ones. Although from what you’ve told me, deciphering his French will be your main problem!”

Marinette laughed. “It isn’t that bad once you get used to it!” she insisted, playfully defending Adrien’s abnormal writing habits.

“Whatever you say, girl. Okay, for real this time, say mirage!”

“Mirage!”

“Great! Now close your eyes and picture the flower. Doesn’t matter what type, just add as much detail as you can. When you’re done, say, ‘I call on Trixx’s power to create this flower’ and then you’re done.”

Marinette giggled as she followed Alya’s instructions, and her friend immediately protested.

“Wha— hey, don’t laugh! My spells don’t usually rhyme!”

Marinette nodded, keeping her eyes closed, and let out a deep breath as she prepared to try the spell.

“I call on Trixx’s power to create this flower,” Marinette said after a moment’s pause, and her heart thumped loudly in her chest.

Then she cracked open her eyes and looked for the flower.

“Nothing’s there,” she said, looking up at Alya dejectedly.

“You’re right,” Alya said, looking at the space between them where the flower should have been. “You could try again or just give up if you think you did it right. Being a Mage is pretty rare these days. And there are other spells to try, to test whether you’re a Mage of a different kwami than mine!”

“I tried as hard as I could,” Marinette said, rubbing her arm. “I don’t think I messed up, except for when I almost laughed. I just don’t think I’m a Mage, Alya.”

“Not Trixx’s, anyway,” Alix said as she hopped off the couch and landed on the floor with a thud, which scared Marinette. “But,” she said as she appeared behind Alya’s shoulder, reached around her, and flipped to a different page in the book, “You might still be Fluff’s. Repeat after me.”

Alya handed the spellbook to Alix and  moved out of the way as she gave Marinette an encouraging smile.

“I promise to keep this short. Come on, just one more spell and we’re done! We only have Trixx’s and Fluff’s spells, so we can only test to see if you’re one of theirs. If not, who cares.” Alix raised one shoulder and dropped it back down.

Marinette sighed. “Okay, fine. What’s the spell?”

“Say burrow, then say the place and time you’d like to go to. So like, this same spot, five seconds from now.”

“Burrow, right here, five seconds from now?”

“Aaand you’re not one of Fluff’s Mages. Congrats!”

“That’s not— how do you know I didn’t mess up? I didn’t even say the same words as you did!”

“It doesn’t matter for that spell. Makes it pretty dangerous if you say something like outer space for your location, or if you go back before the Earth formed, but it’s the most basic spell we have.”

Marinette was briefly seized with an image of her accidentally falling into a black hole or falling into a star because she said the wrong thing by accident.

“Alya! Did you know that spell was so risky?”

“Well, no and yes. I’m not overly familiar with Alix’s spells, but all of Fluff’s magic is more immediately dangerous than Trixx’s. That’s why Fluff’s Mages get so much credit for helping defeat the Darkness with that Adrien of yours. Without their help, the battle could easily have gone in a very different direction.”

“It’s also theorized that one of us killed the Mage behind the Darkness,” Alix supplied. “And that whoever they were, the evil Mage is spiraling across the universe like a dead fish thanks to us. Maybe one day we’ll find their body,” she said, grinning evilly.

Marinette swallowed. “That’ll be fun.”

“Oh yeah, I’m so looking forward to it.”

“Uh-huh. Well, thanks for your help, Alix!” Alya took the book back from her and snapped it shut. “How are you feeling, girl? Worn out from the tests?”

Cocking her head, Marinette responded, “Not really. I’m kind of disappointed, but mostly relieved. Being anyone’s Mage doesn’t sound like the right fate for me. I’m just a normal girl with a normal life!”

Alya hummed. “Maybe you are. But you could still turn out to be a Mage, or even the first Talent in over a century! I’ll give up on tests,” she said at Marinette’s weary look, “But maybe you’d like to learn the Mages’ code, instead? Then you could really read all of Adrien’s journals.”

“My one true desire,” Marinette joked. “That does sound nice, actually! He records so many different spells, and it’s driving me nuts that I can’t read them. Like, there’s a spell for making ingredients hop into a pan and cook themselves! I need to know what it says, even if I can’t actually make the magic work.”

“Sounds like a universal spell to me,” Alya said thoughtfully. “No one’s tried one of those in forever! If it still works, any one of us Mages should be able to use it, even you, if you’re at all Gifted!”

“That would be pretty nice,” Marinette said as Alya led her over to a table and pulled out a chair.

“On to the lesson! Or, I guess it isn’t much of a lesson, exactly. I’m going to write down each of the code’s symbols next to their translation on a piece of paper for you. Once you have it, you can decode any spell you want with minimal work. And soon, you might even have the code memorized and not need the key anymore!”

“Thanks! That’s really cool, Alya,” Marinette said, watching as she quickly muttered a spell under her breath and pulled a paper from thin air. 

Once the paper appeared, Alya grabbed it, making it glow golden orange, said another spell, and then set it down on the table once it stopped glowing.

“There. Once you have the key memorized, the paper will cease to exist. And if anyone but you sees it, it will look like a menu for the cafè. Sound good?” 

Marinette nodded and Alya smiled.

“Great. Now, can I borrow a pen?”

“What, you can’t just summon one?” Marinette teased.

“I could, but that would be another complicated spell, and I just did three of those. You can’t normally touch illusions like this, or they fall apart. That’s part of why I wasn’t worried about the flower spell, because it just casts a basic illusion, nothing more. Anyway, the more complex a spell, the more tiring it is for the Mage casting it.”

“You mean, if you cast too many spells at once, you die?”

This was not good! Being a Mage sounded more dangerous with each new fact Marinette learned about them!

“No, there’s a safety built into the concept of spells. If you try too many at once, you might faint or go into a coma, but if it's a combination that would kill you, then you just can’t finish the spell. It becomes physically impossible.”

“Oh, that’s smart! Which Mage figured it out?”

“No one knows. In any event, while you don’t have to worry about me dying, I don’t feel like sleeping for twenty hours just to make up for summoning a pen.”

“That makes sense. Here,” Marinette fished around in her purse and pulled out a pink gel pen. “Will this work?”

“Perfectly. Thanks!”

Alya wrote out the code on the left side of the paper and then the translation on the right side.

“A last note: the symbols for numbers overlap with a few of the letter symbols. To show the difference, use the guide at the bottom. And that’s all there is to it!”

“Thank you so much!” 

As she took the paper from Alya, Marinette hesitated. 

“Hey, did I ever ask you what happened to Adrien? I mean, he’s dead, obviously, but when did he die? Did he ever write any other journals, aside from the lost ones? Was he happy?”

“Oh,” Alya said. “That’s… hard to answer, actually. We know more about how Adrien’s parents died than we know about how he died. It was in the catacombs, here in Paris. He told one of the Bourgeoises that he was going to visit them, illegally, I might add, and that was the last we ever heard about him. According to the Bourgeois family back when they still acknowledged our existence — although I’ve been promised a response to my email soon, at least — Adrien went a little crazy before his death.”

Marinette took a sharp breath. Adrien, crazy? Sure, she’d considered it, herself, back when she hadn’t known that magic was real, but now that she knew she could trust the stories he wrote in his journals, she didn’t think he was crazy. She thought he was very smart, in control of his thoughts and able to tell when his emotions were threatening to take over. His writing had become something of a constant in her life. What did the magic community think happened to him, that Adrien could be thought ‘crazy’?

Alya continued the story. “He thought the Darkness was coming back; that someone was killing off all the Talents; and towards the very end, he told his closest friends that the Mage of Darkness was hunting him down to get revenge. Revenge, of course, for that time when we ganged up and defeated that same Mage. We killed them, so like, what Adrien thought was happening was just impossible. It’s sad; he cared so much about keeping the Gifted community safe, and he contributed so much to our survival; but in the end, what he’d gone through for our lives cost him his own. He was a hero. But sometimes, being a hero means you don’t get a happy ending. 

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Alya said, covering her trembling hand with a warm, firm one. “I know you got attached because of those books. But it’s in the past. Adrien Agreste got lost in the catacombs at age twenty and died before he could find the way out. That’s all we know.”

Marinette was suddenly finding it really hard to see. At some point during Alya’s tale, she’d begun to silently cry for the Mage she’d begun to feel like she knew. He’d done so much for her, and she’d never get to thank him!

She licked her lips, tasting the salt there, and took a deep, rasping breath. 

“Did you ever find his body? Is there a grave I could go visit?”

Alya shook her head and held Marinette’s hand tightly, offering the only comfort she could. “Nobody’s ever found his body. Plenty of Mages have tried, but they’ve had to turn back. The catacombs are dangerous if you go off the known trail, and it wouldn’t do us any good to find one body just to leave another one there with it. So because of that, we really can’t teleport straight to the spot, we can’t go back in time to stop it, nothing. According to Fluff, ‘everything is the way it should be’. The way it has to be. But it’s always hard to lose one of our own. I wish things were different, ‘Nette, I really do.”

Marinette’s hand shook in Alya’s as she fought off her tears. How could she be crying for a centuries-dead man? She’d known he was dead before she even asked what had happened to him! Crying about it didn’t make any sense!

“It hurts more than it should,” she whispered. “He gave up everything to protect his people, led them to victory, finally won and got to go home. And he went through all of that, just to die as soon as he got back to Paris? That’s completely unfair!”

“I know it is,” Alya said softly. “We all do. He will always have a place of honor in our histories, and a statue at Plagg’s cave. He is and always will be remembered. That’s more than most can say.”

Marinette wiped her eyes and nodded. “I guess it is,” she forced herself to say. Far more people's names are forgotten than remembered, in the grand scheme of things. Even detailed journals, like the ones Adrien had written, were lost or destroyed more often than they lived on even one century after their writer, let alone two. 

How fortunate, then, that she’d gotten to read his journals at all. Even the best Mages couldn’t say they had done that, but finding them had been a blessing for them all, and soon, the Agreste journals would be back where they belonged. Their stories would live on.

Written for @mlbigbang

[amalthea-felsblood]

○ What if there was a moment of calm? Just a moment to talk. ○

[beyourownanchor6]

thanks to all my beloveds for the tags @prince-buck-diaz @buddierights @wildlife4life @spotsandsocks @spaceprincessem @transbuck @alyxmastershipper 🩵

—i’ll admit i haven’t had much time to write as of late, but here’s some of what i’ve added to the chris doesn’t come back au 😌

Eddie’s lifted his hand, fingers smoothing out his frown line. He leaned in the kiss the spot just above his nose, lingering there afterwards.

“Because your favorite Diaz is downstairs waiting for his Buck.”

Buck was smiling in an instant, sitting up a little for the news.

“Chris is here?”

Eddie nodded. “Mmhmm. Thought you two could spend the day together.” Buck wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He hadn’t been in the best of moods lately.

Eddie squeezed his thigh, ducking his head to look right into Buck’s blues.

“Hey, you two are gonna have fun, yea?”

Buck nodded as he pulled in his bottom lip, not trusting his words. Eddie stood from the bed and extended his hand out, Buck only hesitating a moment before taking it. Buck couldn’t help but to wrap his arms around Eddie from behind, wanting him close for one more moment.

Eddie let out a happy sigh as he pushed back into Buck’s touch, threading their fingers together at his front. Buck placed his lips close to Eddie’s ear, whispering right into him.

“Who says you’re not my favorite Diaz?”

Eddie snorted. “Please, everyone loves my kid.”

Well, Buck couldn’t argue with that.

tagging: @heartbeatdiaz @redlightsandicedtea @justsmilestuffhappens @onward--upward @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @barbiediaz @eddiesbicowboy @wh0re-behavi0r @jacksadventuresinwriting @elvensorceress @panbuckley

[celestiall0tus]

Calm Before the Storm - Chapter 1 - News

Next

            Tikki sat with Marc and Nathaniel in the school’s art room as they worked on their comic. She had Marc’s phone as she scrolled through his news feed for anything about Felix and Plagg. She had been keeping up with the news in London regarding a mysterious black cat villain. Words hadn’t been enough to convey her betrayal at Plagg’s actions.

            When Tikki first saw what Plagg and Felix were up to months ago, she was livid. She had wanted to go to London and confront the pair, but she stopped herself. She knew what Velze had wanted for them, to be free to choose, but that didn’t mean she had to like it. And she certainly didn’t like seeing Plagg do bad things.

            Tikki sighed as she kept scrolling. She wondered how Plagg could flip so easily. They had been good for so long. They were used to protect the world and to never be misused. Even know everything felt wrong. She sat there on Marc’s phone with no purpose beyond just being there.

            Tikki furrowed her brow as she stared blankly at the phone. It had been seven long months since Velze was forced back into reality and everything still felt like a dream she would wake from. She was no longer restrained by the constraints before, she and all her siblings were free to exist as they pleased, but even so, it felt wrong after so long.

            Tikki sighed as she lowered the phone. She wanted to feel useful again. She did have Marc and helping him with the small things, but it wasn’t the same. She missed the days when she was with heroes of legends. Jeanne D’Arc, Tentomushi, Micazoyolin, Khepri, and so many more. She wished she could have that again. To be a hero like she was destined to be.

            Tikki tensed up as intrusive thoughts bombarded her. She sucked in a breath as she felt the compulsions to act out threaten to overtake her. She shut her eyes tight as she reminded herself that she was good and would always be good. She wouldn’t dare give in to the temptations of before. She had no need for them and was fine. She forced them down as she always did, but they fought back harder.

            Tikki clenched her teeth as the compulsions gnawed at her. So much of her yearned to let go of her passive ways. She longed to let loose and be the messy, chaotic creation she was born to be. She shook her head as she desperately tried to remind herself she was good, but each thought was an echo lost to a sea of madness that dared to swallow her. She didn’t care if she was free to be herself, she didn’t want to. She wanted to be the good creation, not the creation she was born as.

            “Tikki? Are you ok?” Marc asked.

            Tikki blinked and looked up at Marc. “What? Yes. Just… fighting the same impulses to ring Plagg’s scrawny neck.”

            “Is he and Felix still up to their tricks?”

            “That’s what I’m trying to find out. I know he’s free to do whatever, but I simply cannot tolerate this. We should-.”

            “Tikki, look!” Marc interrupted.

            Tikki paused and looked at the phone. Her eyes widened seeing an article about a musketeer heroine. She clicked on it and read the article about the little Lady that rose to counter the black cat scoundrel.

            “Look at that, Tikki! Plagg and Felix have someone to keep them in line. Good thing, right?” Marc asked.

            Tikki stared at the screen in disbelief. She pursed her lips as horrendous jealousy rolled through her. What was Barkk doing in London? Is that where Chloe was sent to? Why were they getting involved with Felix and Plagg? Didn’t Barkk know better to stay away from her cat?

            “Tikki, are you sure you’re ok? You look, well, angry,” Marc pointed out.

            Tikki forced a smile and handed Marc back his phone. “Absolutely. Everything is perfect. Now, let’s get onto more important matters.”     

            “Maybe we should talk?”

            “Nope. I want to create, but we will be stopping at London in the near future to have a chat with that cheating cat.”

            “Cheating cat?” Marc echoed.

            “I mean, uh, that cat. Yeah, that cat. Anyway, moving on!”

Patreon || Discord || Ko-Fi

[namedoggo]

Here's a Doodle of Greg/Hadi that My Friend wanted me to draw-

+ New Hadi Design, since I never had a proper one (Besides for His Jacket)

[manyunhappygreenies]

Something cute for you guys

[egginfroggin]

I Told You So, but Sabi is an itty-bitty baby when she gets stuck with Emmet.

Sabi: AAAAAA (screaming to get attention)

Emmet: You do not need to scream, I am right here

Lord Braviary: AAAAAAAAAAA

Emmet: Do not encourage her!

Sabi, very encouraged, backed up by a chorus of Rufflets: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[problematicbots]

Winged Sentinel au: Snippet 8: Friendship?

TW: a lot of physical violence.

Standing in an open space close to Fort Maximus, Longarms was working on a console nearby. At this point, he had already read Elita’s Journal and he knew what part to use to expose Sentinel to the council his career yet for some reason Longarms found himself not immediately heading toward the council hall to show them what he found instead he found himself stalling for time for the whole  cycle always digging himself into work making up excuses to his lord Megatron to why he used this to his advantage

So far, it is working, but he knows eventually he can't do this forever, and Megatron's patience will wear thin. Yet, lucky that hasn't happened yet, and Longarms can on another day without revealing what's inside Elita's Journal to the rest of the council.

Until one day, he was met by an unexpected visit from Blurr, who ran towards him in a flash, looking tired and out of breath. Longarms, as much as he hated it since he was acting like an Autobot, couldn't help but stare down at him in genuine concern. 

Out of the ant of the Autobots, Blurr was the one he spread the time with as he remembered the initial agent taking him out to watch plays together, how they would spend hours discussing science together during Oregon breaks, and how he would sometimes lead a servo. 

 So Longarm watched the blue speeder pant for a little bit before collecting his bearings as his faceplate turned from exhaustion to excitement although the tiredness was still in his optics.

“oh thanks, Primus isn't my favorite prime “exclaimed Blurr in enthusiasm yet still clearly tired from his run,

Longarms’s spark swells at this: he was Blurr’s favorite prime, and he couldn't help but feel..honored..oh scrap, that Autobot propaganda was messing with his hard drive again…yet he couldn't help it as joyful tears fell down his optics. 

“Wait, I'm your favorite prime?” asked  Longarms clutching his chest plate with his servo 

“Well of course, actually hold on I got some for you ” replied Blurr searching for something on his person 

Longarms widened his optics in astonishment as Blurr pulled a yellow amulet that was shaped like a peridot gem and he placed it on his servo.

“You know how you always talk about different types of amulets, right? Well, I got this for you during the break. I hope you’ll like it, “ smiled Blurr.

Longarms felt his spark swell up more: he couldn't believe this; Blurr went out of his way to remember something that he liked and didn't do out of self-interest or for his cause. This was the sweetest thing anybody ever did for Longarms.

“Yo-you got this for me, and you came from earth just to give it to me,” stuttered Longarms, genuinely touched by the gesture.

“Yes, and not only that, but I collect samples that have evidence that suggests that the real spy may still be in our ranks, “ spoked Blurr.

Longarms’s spark thump ready when he heard that oh scrap, was Blurr going to find out that he was the real spy all along...no.. not now, not here.

“ Wait, how are you certain that Warp isn't still the spy?” gulped Longarms with viable nervousness  on his faceplate

“Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?” replied Blurr with a grin.

Longarms didn't want to hurt Blurr, but if he didn't do anything, he would be exposed to the Autobots as a spy, and his mission to ruin Sentinel's career would be a failure.

It was with either him or Sentinel’s career that was going to be destroyed. Either way, he was going to lose Blurr's friendship, so with a heavy spark, he reluctantly put away the amulet as his faceplate turned one of remorse for what he was about to do 

“Blurr, you’re a good guy, and I- I'm so sorry for this, “ sniveled Longarms.

“For what-” Before Blurr could react, Longarm expanded his servo and used it to try to slam Blurr into the ground, causing the blue speedier to join backward on the ground before he could get hit.

“L-L-ongarms what are you doing!” Cried Blurr backing against a wall with a look of pure betrayal and terror on his faceplate that broke Longarms's spark Yet the Decepticon spy managed to suck it up.

“My job,” spoked Longarms coldly, although his optics say otherwise as tears float down his faceplate before expanding his other servo.

SLAM  

SLAM

SLAM 

This time, he didn't miss his aim at precision: he successfully crushed Blurr into a cube using his servos alone. Usually, Longarms would be impressed by a feat like this; however, once he pulled away from the smashed Autobot, a look of pure shock and disguise flashed across his faceplate at what he did as he looked at his slightly bloody servos in fear.

Is this how the Autobots felt about the Decepticons…this fear..this terror... This wasn't respectful or honorable at all..this.. felt horrible, yet Longarms knew that he couldn't come back from this; he needed to get rid of the evidence, and most importantly, it was time to finally expose Sentinel to the council.

So with sharky sevros, he quickly gets rid of the blood on himself before picking up Blurr’s messed up corpse, and to his horror, there was still a spark…. Blurr was still alive.

Longarms, in a panic, rushed towards Cliffjumper’s office, where the red Autobot was doing some light paperwork, showing no interest in what Longarms was holding.

Longarms took a deep breath before passing blur- the cube over to Cliffjumper while trying to act casual but he was a complete mess.

“Toss this out, “ ordered Longarms to Cliffjumper, barely managing to keep it together as small tears dropped ped down from his faceplate before marching towards the council hall. His scared faceplate turned into one of determination, yet with doubt leaning in the back of his hard drive. 

Cliffjumper on the other servo didn't ask any questions and did what he was ordered to do toss the the cube into a garbage chute without second thought after all it’s his job to follow orders no matter what 

____________________________________________________________________

Ultra Magnus and the rest of the Council were in the middle of a meeting in a heated debate about something along the lines of a new unit called the “Aerialbots”  when suddenly…

 Longarms busted into the room with a datapad in his servo and approached the council of Autobots, who turned over to Longarms in bewilderment except for Alpha Trion, who was seen to have a little smirk on his faceplate. 

“Longarms, what is the meaning of this?!” demands Ultra Magnus, upset that one of his important meetings has been interrupted by another prime.

Longarms could see that all optics were on him. He nervously made a quick fake cough before speaking, not wanting anybody to think he was a crazy mech who had entered the room for no good reason, so he regained his bearings before apologizing. 

“Sorry for the interruption, sir; however, I believe you should read this,” spoked Longarms before tossing Elita’s Journal on top of the Council table with every council member looking in interest. “It's important.”

Ultra Magnus, although annoyed, did trust Longarm's judgment and was somewhat curious about what the datapad contained.

“Very well then” sighed Ultra Magnus, picking up the Datapad to take a closer look at it.

Longarms’s spark thump as he watched Ultra Magnus slowly swipe to the first few pages of Elita's Journal 

_______________________________________

Ever since that weird night, things have been different between Sentinel and the Twins.

Sure, they still do their usual training session, which was mostly just a few air tricks and reading protocols now since they were already done with the whole basic flight lessons, however on occasion, after every session, Sentinel would take twins out somewhere, whether it to Maccadam, emporiums, exhibitions and play performances. 

Of course, Sentinel makes excuses as to why he is taking these two to these places, like it being a part of their training. So, usually, he tries to make it seem educational or to make it seem like these trips were rewards for their progress so far.

When in reality, even Sentinel will never say it out loud: he likes spending time with them, and he doesn't admit that he may grow a bit attached to them, but only a little bit! Right?

It wasn't just Jetfire and Jetstorm that were pushing this change. Previously, he just changed himself to a jet out of frustration that he couldn't teach the twins how to fly, but nowadays, weirdly, being a jet has become a part of his identity, and he could never imagine being a grounded vehicle again.

Sentinel wasn't the only one to embrace his identity as Jet; he could tell that Jetfire and Jetstorm loved doing tricks in the air with them, rarely coming down back to the ground that Sentinel had to order them to do so.

“Another toast to another successful training session; keep up the decent work,  you two, for a couple of days, and you mi.t. if possible will be promoted to full members of the elite guard  “ announced Sentinel to the twins at their table at  Maccadam as he slowly raised a glass of oil.

“does..that mean we won't be kicked out of places anymore “ questioned Jetstorm still shaken up from the whole accident with the hostess yet lucky Jetfire was able to calm him down by sharing his oil with his brother 

“Not under my watch as, say before, under my command, you'll be treated just like any other soldiers with the same rights to dine, quit, rejoin, and be allowed in anywhere as you please unless it is against protocol  just any other Autobots “ spoked up Sentinel firmly “now anymore repetitive questions?”

Jetfire and Jetstorm as always stared at him in admiration: now that was their leader, not Ultra Magnus who never bothered to show off to most of their training sessions but Sentinel who had been here since day one

“No sir!” Squealed Jetfire and Jetstorm at the same time toasting to the prime by clinking their glass of oil together 

______________________________________

“ Sentinel sir I bet he's going do a backflip“ squealed Jetfire leaning closer on the theater’s balcony as he watched the play below with his brother quietly happy to side wearing 3D sunglasses and Sentinel in between them

“Wait…Why would he do a backflip? Is this play about the great war or something?“ questioned Sentinel, wondering what gave Jetfire the idea this was a stunt performance

“Because it would be very cool “ simply replied Jetfire with a little shrug. 

Sentinel raised his non-existent eyebrow in bewilderment and somewhat amusement since he didn't even know how to argue with that point so he decided to change the subject.

“Well…not as cool when you guys learn- I mean, how I  taught you two to do that Barrel Roll,” bragged Sentinel proudly.

“yeah that was pretty cool..” replied  Jetfire 

Ah, the classic Barrel Roll, the first trick that Sentinel ever did as a Jet, the same one he taught Jetfire and Jetstorm today.

He remembered it in perfect detail: he showed a diagram of a barrel roll to the twins explaining how to do it in detail before showing them an example by doing the stunt himself, when it was the twins' turn to do that stunt he flew alongside them watching them in anticipation and without flaw the twins successfully flip around in the without crashing into anything making Sentinel sign in relief.

Wait, why did he sigh in relief..he knew they were going to be fine, so how come..he felt a way of anxiousness over his  Hard Drive, but before he could think about it far, he was snapped out of the memory by Jetfire's excited screech.

“See, I told you he would do a backflip,” squealed Jetfir,e, pointing at the actor on stage doing the flip while Jetstorm’s jaw dropped in astonishment as little “ooooh” came out of his faceplate.

“All right, calm down, you two. This is a play, not a parade, “ lectured Sentinel, although in a bit lighter town than usual.

During these trips the trio were met with many optics prayed on them, most were looks of disgust, confusion, and.. interest.. an interest that Sentinel didn't like at all since a few Cybertronians were licking their glossa at them…fortunately Sentinel’s glare usually scared those..creeps.. off yet that wasn't always the case.

One day at an exhibition on the history of Elite Guard, the twins were sitting down and playing a game on a hologram of a battlefield on a table in the lobby of exhibition the while Sentinel in the background is having a back-and-forth argument with the ticket inspector holding up a pretty long line of annoyed or bored Cybertronians.

Yep, just another normal trip with their leader with Jetfire playing the battlefield game on offense while Jetstorm mostly chose defense,  everything was just fine 

 until an older femme approaches Jetstorm with a creepy look on her face that Jetfire doesn't like, and neither does Jetstorm.

“Hey huh, do you mind we’re kinda in the middle of something here? “ spoked Jetfire sternly, trying to act like his prime as he got up from his seat to stand in front of his brother protectly.

The elderly femme didn't listen to Jetfire and instead placed her servo on his shoulder and caressed it while Jetfire angrily tried to push her servo away while Jetstorm tried to tell her to cut it out luckily it didn't take long for Sentinel to notice quickly brushing his argument the ticket inspector to the slide before bolting over to the elderly femme.

“SERVO OFF THE AUTOBOT”  shouted Sentinel instinctively pulling the organic spray that he usually carries on him and quickly sprays it on her optics, which immediately makes the elderly femme fall l backward on the ground, catching everyone in the line's attention as they all grasp and whisper at the sight.

“My optics!” she screamed before getting up and rushing out of the exit of the exhibition, leaving everyone in shock except for the twins, who are once again grateful that their prime is here.

“IF I EVER SEE YOU FACEPLATE AGAIN, I WILL PERSONALLY MAKE SURE YOU’RE CHARGED WITH ASSAULTED  AND IS SENT TO THE DARKNESS PITS OF KAON WITHOUT A BERTH,”  screamed Sentinel after the elderly femme before turning around to check on the twins.

“Thank you, sir,” muttered Jetfire and Jetstorm with a sigh of relief.

Sentinel was about to say you're welcome when he noticed somebody took his spot in line and was able to get past the ticket inspector without any problems

That is it. Sentinel was officially done with the place. Not only his place in his line was taken, but his soldiers got assaulted without anybody doing anything about it. He decided that this wasn't worth it.

“Come on, let's get out of here. This place sucks anyway,” huffed Sentinel before leading the twins out of the exit leaving everyone in the exhibition in shock.

While the majority of patrons and staff in the exhibition went back to what they were doing although a bit shaken up, a small group of a few mechs followed Sentinel and the twins outside in interest, although, unlike the elderly femme, their interest is seen less creepy and more out of curiosity as the group watched in awe as the trip transformed into jets before flying off into the sky.

“That is the most marvelous thing I have ever seen!” exclaimed one white mech on the ground, looking over to his buddies. “ you know I wish I was a jet, I never felt comfortable in this frame”

“Hey, do you think if we join the elite guard we could be jets too?”  questioned a red mech in  excitement

“That's a great Powerglide!” squealed the same white mech from before.

“Wait what if we could get in trouble for this! ” gulped a Sliver mech nervously.

“Hey, come on, Sliverbolt, if the subcommander is doing it, I don't see why we can't, “ shrugged Powerglide.

Sliverbolt couldn't argue with that point as he stared up at the trio of jets Autobots flying further away into the distance 

Little did he know Sentinel overheard everything in the air, and the prime couldn't believe this: there were Autobots who were genuinely interested in flying, not in a creepy way wanting to join the elite guard. 

Sentinel never really thought of it before, but what if there could be a whole unit of flying Autobots on the elite guard ready to defend Cybertron? That isn't just him and the twins?

Now, that would be a sight to see, and perhaps using his duties as sub-commander to encourage a more pro-flying Cybertron, this would not only be a win for the twins but be a perfect way to beat Megatron at his own game.  Who knows, maybe one day, there could be flying Autobots outside of the elite guard, but for now, a unit is a small place to start.

“Huh, what do you know? I guess they aren't all creeps and cogheads after all, “ muttered Sentinel under his breath before returning to Fort Maximus with the twins.

Once the twins headed back to their quarters, Sentinel immediately went to work for six months to make a more pro-flying Cybertion by first proposing the idea of a whole unit of jet auto bots which he described to called the “Aerialbots”  to the council before promoting it with posters, broadcasts and just any form of media he gets his servos on to spread his message. 

The results were mixed with a few Autobots showing interest in flying and asking where they could sign up while others protested against the idea, and the council was still in debate about his idea.

Not the ideal results that  Sentinel wanted, but hey, at least there is interest, and if we can make that go higher, it would put pressure on the council to approve his idea. 

Despite all this, Sentinel somehow always finds time to train and spend time with the twins on occasion 

_________________________________________

“Sentinel, sir, I know this is supposed to supply run and all that but if you don't mind, I made this for you,” muttered Jetstorm, walking out of one store in the emporium and giving Sentinel a picture. 

Sentinel stared down the picture in brief confusion before his optics widened once he realized what the picture was: it was a messy drawing of himself with Jetfire and Jetstorm above the word “us” on it.

Sentinel didn't know what to say he was completely speechless as the spark swelled a bit but at the same, he had no idea what to do with it.. should he sign it on.. wait no that's ridiculous this wasn't an autograph.. this was sentimental ... he needed to.. put it somewhere important.. yeah that will do 

“Sentinel, sir, are you Ok? I can take it back if you want “ asked Jetstorm in concern that Sentinel hadn't spoken to for a full minute.

“N-NO-huh I mean I'm just going to take this to my office real quick, just make sure you and your brother come back to your quarters before closing hours ok..actually scratch that leave before 3..well you know what to do!” yelped Sentinel putting the picture away before bolting out the emporium leaving Jetstorm confused yet a bit amused.

That was their prime, a little weird, but their leader, whom the twins not only see as a mentor but as a friend too. 

_________________________________________

Jazz stood inside Sentinel’s office with the resignation note in servo, looking like a complete mess: his shades had a small yet visible crack on the left side. He just badly escaped multiple violent protests against jet Autobots.

Jazz remembered trying to convince the protesters that he was just passing by yet they didn't listen to him due to the fact he was wearing an elite guard symbol which the protesters saw “as pro jets” 

This resulted in him getting punched in the faceplate, and worst of all, he recognized most of the faces of the protesters: most of them were his friends or autobots he trusted..all turned on him for even associating  with jets. 

Sure, it was only one punch, and lucky the counter-protest th managed to pull him out of there's before things got ugly,  however, this was the final straw for Jazz's mental state: it used to take no time at all for him to reach Fort Maximus but now..well he lost count of the many days he was lost in the crowd of protesters and counter-protesters 

Ever since Project Vedette was approved, nothing other horrible things have happened. First, Sentinel crashed into that building; now, only Jazz was getting verbally harassed but also physically, and Nothing good could come out of Autobots fighting other Autobots. This was way too much for him 

So he approaches Sentinel's desk, ready to place the note there when he.. suddenly hesitates for a moment. 

He started having second thoughts about whether he should resign or not after all quitting probably wouldn't stop all this harassing probably won't stop even if quit and he would be leaving Sentinel behind to deal with these people

That would be so selfish of him to do so, especially toward someone who he kinda sees as a friend

However, at the same time..he sorta makes a whole scene at Maccadam about quitting, and if he backed out now…would he be harassed again?

There was only one way that Jazz could think of that could stop all this madness and gain everyone's respect again without anybody getting mad or hurt. It was simple but effective:  shut down both  Project Safeguard and Project Vedette. No more jets, no more problems, right?

So, with a sigh, Jazz turned away from the desk and was about to throw away the note in a nearby garbage chute.

CLICK 

Sentinel entered the office immediately spotting the note in Jazz's servo and the prime faceplate twisted into a look of surprise,  suspicion, and a briefly mortified

“Jazz… what that's in your servo”  questioned Sentinel as a look of betrayal crossed the prime faceplate.

Scrap.