#fics: megarod

[dacialogansuperfan]

megarod fic under the cut

rated e

also edited & posted on ao3

when megatron says “i haven’t done this in years. i haven’t wanted to do this in years,” rodimus prepares for it to be… not necessarily bad, he doesn’t think it could be – just getting to see megatron like that – open, vulnerable – will be worth it. but maybe not good either.

mostly, that warm, syrupy feeling sliding down his spinal strut at the thought that he’s the first mech in millennia to make megatron want keeps him from feeling too disappointed. he lets megatron set the pace, back him up against the bulkhead and tip his helm back into a slow kiss with a shockingly gentle hand under his chin.

for a while, that’s all they do. soft, exploratory kisses become deep, sensual drags of lip plates against each other, over his jaw and under, a hint of teeth against neck cabling. rodimus almost forgets there’s the promise of more, lost in the building charge crackling between megatron’s mouth and his own rapidly heating plating, until strong hands slide under his thighs and lift him bodily off the ground.

he doesn’t yelp, and even if he had, there’s no way megatron heard it over the clatter of their armour colliding, the screech of metal scraping against metal as his thighs are guided around megatron’s hips, so there’s no reason for him to be laughing.

ok, maybe it’s not so much a laugh as a quiet chuckle, one that rumbles through his chest and all the way down to rodimus’ pedes, but rodimus smacks him anyway, hand coming down to rest on one broad shoulder. the other hovers awkwardly at his side, floating in the air until one of megatron’s – much larger, primus – lifts away from his thigh to wrap fully around it.

rodimus turns his head to watch his hand disappear into the curl of megatron’s, bright yellow paint eclipsed under a cover of scuffed, matte black. if he focuses, he can feel every unmended dent and scratch, is so absorbed in it that he doesn’t notice megatron moving until his back hits the berth. gently, with megatron’s other hand curled around his helm to keep it from smacking against the criminally underpadded recharge slab megatron has the audacity to call a berth.

rodimus’ eyes snap back to megatron’s. a lopsided curl to his lips, not quite a smile, but enough to soften the deep, dark red of his optics.

(rodimus sometimes wonders if the subroutines for actual smiling were permanently deleted from megatron’s processor after sitting unused for millions of years. he’d tease him about it if he didn’t suspect it, just a little, of being true)

he’s quiet for a little too long, staring at megatron and forgetting to do anything with his face. the almost-smile slips from megatron’s lips, his hand squeezing rodimus’ where their fingers are still tangled loosely together against the berth.

“still good?” spoken so softly, megatron’s weight and heat inching backwards, giving rodimus the space to push him away. he doesn’t think he’s ever heard megatron this quiet, the whisper smoothing out the rasp in his voice, leaving a pleasantly low rumble. a shiver passes through rodimus, and he brings his arm up to clutch at megatron’s waist. oh yeah, definitely still good.

still, he grins up at megatron, says “what do you mean still? we haven’t even started yet,” going for that exasperated look megatron gives him with less frequency now, which only makes him feel like he has to work harder to earn it.

if he gets it he can’t tell, megatron’s mouth pressed insistently to his almost as soon as he gets the words out. there’s nothing hesitant about this kiss, firm and almost desperate from the start. the heat between them skyrockets, megatron’s hands hot over his plating, running from his arms to over his chest, sliding down his waist like his need to touch is overwhelming his ability to decide where first.

rodimus gasps when sharp denta nip at his bottom lip, his fingers sliding down megatron’s chest and coming to grip just under the armour, hooked into the panel just above his vents. megatron groans, and the sound vibrates from rodimus’ fingers up his arms, leaves him jittery and wanting more.

he teases the fingers of one hand in between the slats and megatron shudders, his lips sliding hot over rodimus’ cheek, open in a pant. it’s intensely gratifying, and rodimus is about to do it again until those lips move down, brushing over his spoiler before a hot, wet glossa licks a wide stripe across the guard and rodimus shouts.

in retaliation, rodimus hooks the fingers of his other hand in as well and tugs, pulling a low moan of out megatron and crushing their chests together.

megatron is shaking over him, and while at first rodimus is sure it’s in pleasure, and he won, he realizes a half-second later the afthole is laughing again. it may or may not have taken him a bit to realize because through his chuckles, megaton has started rubbing circles on the inside of rodimus’ thigh with his thumb.

“rodimus, it’s not a competition.” he can’t see megatron’s face from where it’s tucked into the crook of his neck, warm breath ghosting over the cabling there, drawing small shivers from his frame, but he can hear the slag eating grin.  

“the pit it isn’t.” sliding one hand free from under megatron’s chest, he brings it down between his legs, cupping the panel there and feeling the heat radiating from it. “also, i’m totally winning.” megatron says nothing, but bites down just a little rougher on his neck, pinching a cable between his teeth, creasing it. rodimus groans, his back arching up off the berth before megatron’s grip on his thigh pushes him back down again.

“primus.” rodimus curses when megatron’s lips move back to his spoiler, his tongue dragging a path across it that has rodimus’ whole frame shaking, but he doesn’t linger. his mouth moves down rodimus’ chest, soft kisses over plating and long teasing licks to transformation seams a contrast that has his processor spinning, optics heavy lidded as he watches megaton make his way down his frame until his lips brush over his panel and – oh, frag – come away wet.

he hadn’t even noticed when he’d started leaking, tracks of lubricant smeared around the edges of his panel and spotting his thighs, and he hasn’t even opened his fragging panel yet.

he would be embarrassed about that, maybe – he can’t see what state megatron is in, and his hand slid away from megatron’s hips when he began his descent down rodimus’ body and ended up curled in the thin cover laid over the berth – except.   

except megatron is looking up at him through optics blown wide with a desire so intense it pins rodimus to the berth, his whole body still as he watches megatron’s optics cycle to their widest setting, heavy lidded as his tongue moves slowly, torturously over lip plates slick with rodimus’ fluids, like he can’t bear to miss a single drop.

rodimus tries to say something. his vocalizer clicks once, twice, before rebooting entirely. the air between them fills with the heavy, stagnant haze of both their vents running at full speed and managing to do nothing but push the superheated air in circles around them.

megatron lowers his lips to rodimus array cover again and, lip plates dragging over sensitive seams manages a hoarse “please,” that nearly sends rodimus into a full system failure. his panel snaps open with a quiet click that is inaudible over their roaring fans.

one of megatron’s hands cups rodimus’ thigh, lifts it to bring it up over his shoulder. rodimus gets the hint and moves his other leg to mirror it, thighs clenching once around megatron’s helm before relaxing. megatron’s other hand rests on his hip, for now just stroking the plating in soothing, abstract patterns until rodimus relaxes fully and, propped up on his elbows, gives megatron a brisk nod. his stupid vocalizer is still running sudden restart debugging routines.

the first touch of megatron’s glossa to his array is a soft, broad stoke over the slit of his valve. rodimus shivers, already struggling to hold himself up but needing to see the way megatron shudders, his optics sliding shut as he repeats the motion, this time flicking his tongue over rodimus’ anterior node. rodimus’ thighs tighten around his helm, but megatron barely seems to notice. he looks completely blissed out, like he’s the one getting his valve eaten out.

megatron’s tongue pushes past the folds of his valve, sweeping upwards, seeking sensor clusters that light up under his tongue and send a feedback loop of charge through megatron’s mouth and every concentric ring in rodimus’ valve.

his head hits the berth with a loud crash he barely notices as megatron’s tongue continues its exploration of his valve, hot and wet and almost perfect, he just needs –

his vocalizer comes back online with a loud click and he’s shouting, arching up off the berth and then curling forward as megatron pulls back to suck on his anterior node, a soft suction and brush of tongue. rodimus’ hands fly to his shoulders, scramble against his back as megatron moves between his node and his valve, alternating long, broad swipes of his tongue with teasing licks.

his hand lands on the turret on megatron’s back and he grips it tight, keeping his hold on it when megatron’s strong servos push him back to lie flat on the berth again before he starts tongue fucking him in earnest, glossa pushing as deep into his valve as it can go. calipers cling at it as it moves back, rodimus’ valve desperately trying to clench down.

megatron releases his hips to bring a hand up to his array, thumb brushing over his node while megatron’s tongue is buried inside him. rodimus thinks he shouts, thinks he’s been making humiliating noises this whole time but can’t actually be bothered to care. he uses his grip on megatron’s turret to push his hips up into megatron’s mouth, start a dirty grind that pushes that sinfully talented glossa even deeper, and megatron moans. that powerful engine sends the sound all through rodimus’ frame, shaking his legs over megatron’s shoulders, vibrating his tongue inside rodimus’ valve and suddenly his overload is crashing into him, head thrown back, optics glitching, megatron’s name on his lips.

pleasure crawls over his plating, runs through every line for what feels like an eternity before he finally starts to come down, and realizes several things all at once.

one, his thighs have a death grip on megatron’s helm, enough to have dented it.

two, ditto for the turret. his fingers have left long, gauging scratches in it.

three, megatron is covered, obscenely covered in a heady mix of trasfluid and lubricant, rodimus’ transfluid and lubricant, coating his mouth, nose, and chin, except for the places where megatron is currently licking it away. rodimus is similarly debauched, which might have escaped his notice for a somewhat humiliating amount of time while he stared at megatron if not for the fact that the mech himself had started cleaning the inside of rodimus’ thigh with his tongue.

when he can finally speak again, he goes with “haven’t done this in years my aft.”

megatron’s optics cycle slowly, lazily as they flicker between rodimus’ eyes and his array. his tongue gives one final, soft lick over the swollen mesh that makes rodimus’ shiver before his levers himself up, rodimus’ strutless legs falling from his shoulders to rest in the crook of his elbows.

“it’s true.” at rodimus’ skeptic look he just shrugs, one of those massive shoulders lifting up and jostling rodimus’ leg. megatron slides his palm from ankle joint to the inside of rodimus’ knee, using a light grip to tug rodimus forward on the berth, until they’re pressed chest to chest again. his optics, the low, rough tone of his voice dripping satisfaction when he continues, “i will admit to thinking about doing that recently. often.” they’re kissing again before rodimus can even begin to think of something suitably clever to say to that.

at the feeling of hot, hard metal against his inner thigh rodimus breaks away with a gasp, hands flying away from megatron’s shoulders and down his frame, knuckles brushing against the ridged, interlocking panels of a thick spike, already slick with pre fluid. megatron shudders above him, whole frame rocking forward, catching himself against the birth just before his weight crashes into rodimus.

rodimus grins, relishing the broken sound that leaves the strained vocalizer of the massive mech above him at the first real stoke of his curled fingers.

“that can’t be all you’ve been thinking about, big guy.” a breathless laugh, tumbling into a low groan when rodmus’ thumb swipes over the head. megatron’s servos come back up to cup his thighs again, already mechhandling rodimus so he can fit between his spread legs, one massive knee propped in between them on the berth.

“no, captain, we’re just getting started.”

[ryvols]

fuuuuuuck who invited the robots rights activist to the orgy

[valve3nthusiast]

Okay so Megatron and Rodimus are both freaks, right. And one day Megs rolls up and is like "I would like to do something slightly unusual in terms of spark play if you are intere-" and Rodimus is like "fuck yeah"

So Megatron ends up rubbing his dick all over Rodimus's open sparkchamber and its very hot but both of them are very very carefully not thinking about how Megatron shot Hot Rod through the spark. This is not killing the mood at all, somehow, because they are both freaks. as previously stated

So they have mind-blowing spark sex and all that, but when they're cuddling eventually Megatron gives into temptation and asks "so was that not weird for you at all given that I have previously personally extinguished your spark" and Rodimus dramatically rolls over to face Megatron and goes "OH THANK PRIMUS I wasn't the only one thinking about it and like, not to pull a Rung, because I enjoyed this a fuckton, but is there maybe a reason you suggested that specifically" and Megatron freezes like a deer in the headlights of an incoming Peterbilt 379 semi-truck

[bowen-arrow-art]

MegaRod ficlet

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

🌸 Continuity: IDW 🌷 Rating: Mature 🌸 Relationship: Rodimus/Megatron 🌷 Characters: Megatron & Rodimus 🌸 CW: Sexual tension, just kiss already, straddling, hot make-outs, light choking, dom/sub 🌷 Summary: Megatron and Rodimus storm into their hab suite after a meeting (also yeah they share a suite 'cause they're co-captains and also hopelessly flirting and the crew has just accepted it)

Ficlet under the cut~!

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

"Well that went as bad as it could have gone," Megatron let out an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh yeah? They backed me against a wall!" Rodimus retorted behind the towering mech, "Tell me, 'most fearful leader in the galaxy,' how would you have handled that differently?!"

Without needing words, Megatron swung around and made use of Rodimus's statement, moving towards the smaller mech until he was literally backed against a wall. Rodimus knew exactly how to pry underneath his panels.

There had been a few times like these. Neither captain would budge on an issue, and it either led to a temporary silent treatment or… well, fragging. Both mechs held a lot of pent-up opinions, and sometimes that was the only way they could release some steam and come to some sort of truce. It was their own weird checks and balances.

And while Megatron glared down at the red-orange mech with searing red optics, tonight was looking like one of those times.

Not a nano-second later Megatron had Rodimus panting frantically against his lips. An intense and painful need overcame them as their glossas fought for dominance. As big as Megatron was, Rodimus put up quite a fight.

The smaller mech pushed himself into Megatron until the berth behind them buckled the steel mech's knees. Lips still fiercely connected, Rodimus hoisted himself up to straddle the large thighs in front of him, struggling a little at just how wide he had to stretch his legs. This only made his lower panel more uncomfortable to keep shut.

As stoic as Megatron was, Rodimus brought out a side of him that he was still coming to terms with. He let his guard down as Rodimus's efforts to straddle him pushed him back onto the berth. Immediately his cooling vents kicked on and the moment of perceived weakness startled him.

Rodimus, lost in the ecstasy of Megatron's burning lips, suddenly found himself flipped over on his back with a giant hand at his throat. Wide-eyed, energon pumped violently through him and flushed his cheeks.

"If we're going to do this," Megatron demanded, his voice rumbled through his chassis like thunder, "I am on top. You are the one keeping your legs spread. Got it?"

The dominance kicked Rodimus's fans into high gear. Oh boy. He was not going to be able to walk tomorrow.

[largishcat]

😳 what if we kissed in the ancient, forgotten temple of Unicron 😳 and we were narrative foils 😳😳

my awesome partner this year was @flamin-hotrod-69 and THIS is my entry for the 2023 @tf-bigbang

[heliopauseentertainments]

Too Damn Hot

For @tangentially-displaced from Trope Reversal

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationships: Megatron/Rodimus

Characters: Rodimus & Megatron

Tags: Double Drabble, Silly

Summary: In which it is too hot to cuddle.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

Too much. It was just too much.

The heat was literally suffocating; Megatron’s vents struggled to effectively exchange air as Rodimus slumbered on top of him. No cool air could reach through the blanket of warmth that Rodimus threw off. It was like being trapped in a smelter, or at the very least, what he imagined being trapped in a smelter would feel like. There was no way he could recharge like this.

With what he would describe as “great regret,” he gingerly slid Rodimus, a living radiator, off his chest onto the recharge slab.

Still too hot. The oppressive heat escaping from Rodimus’s frame assailed him from the side with no reprieve.

There, thus, only remained but one viable solution.

Megatron threw himself to the floor, threw himself to the mercy of the ship’s cold metal. The smooth, unfeeling surface immediately began to leech away the terrible, terrible heat that had built up in his frame. He stretched out his limbs to maximize the contact, maximize the thermal transfer.

Just as soon as he felt recharge nearly take him away once, he heard a drowsy voice above and behind him on the recharge slab.

“Aw, I’m all cold now.”

[neighboringheart]

Let's All Get Along

Finally finished the MegaGetaRod fic I've been meaning to have done for ages now lmao let's just call it my summer fic and pretend that this had nothing to do with procrastination or me wanting to work on an entirely different fic at the same time that I keep rewriting endlessly. Anyway,

Snippet:

"We cannot function if we don’t all work together. And to that end, Rodimus had the idea to—in his words—‘use him like a get-along shirt.’ I think that’s far too crude, personally. I prefer to just call it team building.” “So, he thinks that if he gives me good enough head I’ll agree to, what, not think about killing you in every conceivable way whenever I see you? Sorry, I don’t even think Primus could pull that off.”

Read the Rest? (More tags in fic)

[crestncredence]

hello! posting my gift for the amazing @seekerheat for the @secretsolenoid-revived :D it is nsfw so please bear that in mind! tyyyyy for such a fun prompt!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61887748

(megarod breeding for the soul)

[cluescorner]

Unfortunately for the balance of the universe, I am at it again

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62006263/chapters/158569063

Doing @yearoftheotpevent with Megarod because I'm normal about IDW and especially the co-captains.

[maxwants2fragrobos]

I, after an age, have got chapter 10 together!

[dacialogansuperfan]

hi hello here's a megarod drabble

rated g

rodimus yanks open the door to his favourite supply-closet-turned-hiding-spot and promptly falls face first into chest armour like a brick wall. the door is swiftly tugged shut again, a broad servo brushing against his lower back for an astrosecond before fingers close around the handle and pull, plunging the small space into near darkness. their optics, fixed on each other, provide just enough light for rodimus to make out the slight downward curve to megatron’s mouth. not a frown, more of a wince.

“so,” rodimus starts, leaning back against the door to put what distance he can between them. a frame as large as megatron’s, built for hard labour and cobbled together half from spare parts, runs hotter than the average mech. so does rodimus, for obvious and significantly cooler reasons, and the two of them stuffed into a space that can charitably be called tailgate-sized are beginning to throw off uncomfortable levels of heat, even for him. “come here often?”

megatron sighs. just that small movement of his chest, a quick breath in and released, knocks their plating together, megatron’s armour scraping lightly against his cheek. it already feels a little hot to the touch. when he speaks, rodimus can feel that too, the soft rumble of it passing through him, almost shaking the tips of his helm. 

“no,” and somehow, there’s no reproach in that tone. just a faint, lingering amusement that could be about the existence of rodimus’ secret hiding place, in general, or their present situation, specifically. “but i’m guessing you do.”

rodimus grins. for once, megatron doesn’t have a leg to stand on, vis-à-vis being the more competent captain, if he’s been holed up in the secret hideout longer than rodimus has. which he has. right now, at least, rodimus is totally kicking his aft at being professional, and captainly, and pretty much everything else regarding heading up the lost light, if only because he hasn’t spent the majority of his duty shift in a closet.

never mind that he was planning to spend the rest of his shift in said closet. still is, tentatively, provided megatron’s bizarrely good – as good as it gets with megatron, which pretty much means he’s not actively annoyed at something –  mood lasts, and he doesn’t decide to haul the both of them back to the bridge.

speaking of –

“why are you in here, anyway?” this close, he has to crane his neck to get a good look at megatron’s face, and even then, he’s mostly staring at scuffed chest armour, swooping engravings to either side of an autobot symbol mostly obscured in the dark, and the curve of megatron’s lip plates. he watches them curl into a slight grimace, deepened by the shadows thrown from rodimus’ own optics.

“i’m avoiding minimus.” straight to the point, with only the tiniest bit of shame. rodimus is starting to feel a weird kind of deja vu, but for an experience he’s only ever been on the other side of. it’s both deeply strange, and a little thrilling stepping into megatron’s role, seeing that chastised look in his optics. rodimus takes a step forward, forcing megatron to take one back to keep their plating from colliding.

megatron looks down at him, still wearing that almost-frown, but with a tilt to his helm that suggests confusion, rather than anger. rodimus just smiles at him, brings one hand up to rest over the patterns on his chest.

“i thought you two got along?” at rodimus’ questioning look, one massive shoulder shrugs, scraping against the side of the closet with a muffled shriek. megatron winces, optics shuttering against the noise, and tries to shift his weight away from the wall. he only succeeds in knocking over a cluster of mops leaned against the other side of the supply closet, and his optics stay closed throughout the ensuing clatter that creates. rodimus muffles a laugh into the crook of his free arm, the one not resting against megatron’s heated plating.

when megatron’s optics finally flicker back on, rodimus pokes him in the chest. “so?”

megatron sighs, jostling rodimus’ servo. “you’re right, we usually get along… surprisingly.” that last word softer than the rest, like it wasn’t entirely intentional. rodimus gets that. megatron liking any of them, them liking megatron, was possibly the most surprising thing to happen on this ship – and that was a difficult, if dubious honor to earn. it wasn’t bad, just – hard to wrap a processor around. the relationship between all the autobots on this ship and their co-captain was still tentative, delicate.

rodimus is not entirely sure he’s including himself in that, though.

something else thunks heavily to the floor as megatron brings his arms up behind him to rest, at a somewhat awkward angle, on a low shelf. they’re doing sort of a terrible job at hiding, if that’s what this is. his mouth is a wry smile when he says, “he loses me at alphabetizing.”

rodimus laughs again, a quick burst that is mostly muffled into megatron’s chest. he seems to be doing that often in megatron’s presence, since the universe jump. it’s another one of those tentative, delicate things that he mostly avoids thinking about.

the light of their optics, blue and red overlapping each other in the diminishing space between their faces as rodimus leans up to do something stupid, if only because he hasn’t in a while and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to not think about those delicate things in this tight, hot space with megatron smiling at him like they’re sharing a secret. it reminds him of those flimsy little glasses he’d once picked up on earth, red and blue, held up to his optic and watched the world split into two. this feels sort of like that, between one blink and the next megatron’s smile disappears and is replaced with that same, oddly charming looking of confusion from earlier. rodimus is practically on the tips on his pedes, his arms coming up to wrap around megatron’s neck. holding him in place, or holding himself up.

likely a bit of both.

“well, since we’re here, and we’ve got time to kill,” he says by way of explanation, before brushing his lip plates against megatron’s. quickly, before he can lose his nerve.  

megatron makes a small sound of surprise against his mouth, the soft derma cracked in a half-dozen places of gentle friction against his own, but doesn’t push him away. instead, two rough, large hands come up to rest at his waist, grip paradoxically light. he shivers anyway, pushes himself more firmly against megatron, who finally starts kissing him back.   

rodimus’ back hits the door behind him with a dull thump. he feels himself being pushed, gently, back to the ground, until megatron is bent over him, above and all around him, rodimus’ pedes planted firmly on the floor.

it’s nice. really nice. rodimus can feel the beginnings of charge building lazily between them, the temperature in the already muggy closet climbing by degrees, but for now just this is enough.

when they finally pull away from each other, rodimus slaps a hand to megatron’s mouth.

“we can talk about it later,” and yeah, maybe he makes a face at that, but he does mean it. “okay?”

the look on megatron’s face, what’s visible of it, is almost comically relieved. rodimus snorts, keeping his hand over megatron’s mouth until he gets an eager nod. for a guy who made a name for himself by talking, he avoids the personal kind with an efficiency bordering on pathological. rung might have something to say about it, at least, but rodimus is all for it.

they have time, to deal with whatever this is properly. for now, megatron’s lips over his, warm and yielding, moments after he pulls his hand away – like he can’t wait – is good enough.

[killyourrdarlingss]

We love a good parallel ♥️

[starvonnie]

Listen if anyone is wondering why the next fic in the megarod series is taking so long... this is why

[beardisable]

ok so im reading transformers(2009), getting thru idw

just reached #13 aka "Hot Rod Rodimus singlehandedly... infiltrates a decepticon hideout takes the matrix and gets fucking owned"

and... i dont really know i dont have concrete thoughts about it my brain is just going AAAAAAAAAAAA atp

just........ younger rodimus,,, Dark Metal Megatron,,, and if i turn shipping brain on its. their first meeting that goes fucking INCREDIBLY...

i am so incredibly normal right now i promise

[starvonnie]

oh my gosh fanart of my fic????? thank you so much!

Artwork based on Chapter 3 of Two Factions, Alike in Dignity.

[heliopauseentertainments]

I couldn't find another way to get these to you, so apologies for the slightly odd ask! I have been thinking for ages about that time when you asked for music recs for Reforged, and I spent forever trying to find a bass/counter-tenor duet for M&R (specifically the two of them in the sparkfield recharging scene) and failed miserably. So when I got a bit of spare disposable income unexpectedly I tried to commission one. This thing is not that thing, for a variety of reasons (among others, that the composer can't produce voices very easily, but is a talented instrumentalist with access to electronic instrumentation). I very much like it all the same, and I especially love the bonus track.

Anyway, in the spirit of giving you at the beginning of the New Year something you might like during the rest of it - here you go!

Commissioned… music? I'm… I'm absolutely floored. That's so generous of you to try to commission music to pair with one of my fics. That's so kind.

I gave these a listen this morning. These are gorgeous! The bonus track especially.

It nearly knocked me out of my seat! I love the large, grandiose sounds and the heavy percussion. It takes up space in one's bones. It's absolutely wonderful.

And "Recipe for Reformation" is much more mellow, but still very dramatic.

I love these so much; I am trying to save copies of the files to listen to again later. These are amazing. I hope that everyone who's taken the time to read Reforged can get a chance to listen to these.

This is such a thoughtful gift and for the start of the new year too. Thank you so much!

The instrumentalist you worked with produced such beautiful pieces of music; please give them my thanks as well. What is their name/handle?