#guess i like angst????? and hurt??????

[strandedtoodeep]

alternative explanation to why Wade want to sacrifice himself in the Time Ripper scene:

Wade: That’s why it’s gotta be me. Logan: What, no- Wade: Yes. Yes it is. I need to do this by myself. Logan: Why? Wade: Because if i die now... i'll not have to watch them die later. Because in the end, i'll outlive them. All of them, Logan.

[the-broken-pen]

Hey hey

Could you perhaps write a snippet where the building hero is in, gets bombed? Its bombed as an assassination attempt to get them, however the people in that building die and hero, succumbed to their injuries couldn't save everyone of them. At last they watched the last ambulance left without them, even as they called for help

Villians villa is just few kilometres away

Thankfu hero's legs aren't broken

They begin walking

The problem? Vil is way to composed and prim and perfect to let all of hero's blood get on their expensive carpets and fabrics. They could even be mad at the hero for reddening their porch if they hero stood their asking for bandages. What now? And the fight the two had yesterday that ended with "never see me again" and "don't ever talk to me"s.....vil was stopping hero from attending the event the building....

Will vil help them? They can just ask for bandages and leave.

What hero doesn't know: vil would literally destroy the world for hero, and there's no way in hell are they leaving hero on their doorstep.

(Anon you were cooking with this ask, thank you!)

The hero realized the building was going to explode a split second before it did, which wasn’t enough time to do anything other than brace.

They tensed, and there was a horrible screeching of metal and brick, followed by a deafening silence that covered them more completely than the rubble did.

The hero coughed once, weakly, pain rocketing through their chest, and shoved a piece of concrete off themself.

From somewhere else in the building, a soft, terrified wail began, broken around desperate sobs.

The hero coughed again, hand rising to their ribs. They didn’t have the energy to be surprised when their fingers came back coated in blood and dust. They grimaced at it, struggling to their feet–

And oh, god. That hurt.

The hero had a surgery once, the kind that resulted in bandages and a care regime and a set of stitches, and when they had woken up in the recovery unit, it had felt sort of like this. A moment of loopy half-awareness, and then a pain that had knocked the breath out of them, hands clenching into the sheets as a nurse tried to figure out if they needed more medication. 

This was worse. Their vision swam, and they blinked it back with a hiss.

Because someone, somewhere in the wreckage, was crying. And if one person was crying, it meant there was someone who survived. Which meant it was likely there were other survivors–ones too hurt to make any noise, ones knocked unconscious, ones still too shocked to do anything other than lay there–and it was the hero’s job to find them.

It took them far too long to locate the source of the crying. Longer to dig them out, vision going white as the person slammed into the hero’s chest in some facsimile of a terrified hug.

“You’re okay,” they managed, voice like gravel. “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out, and you’re going to be just fine. Were you with anyone?”

And then again, and again, and again.

The hero panted, hands on their knees as their body fought them in an attempt to just collapse onto the concrete below. They just–they just needed a minute. Just one, maybe, and then they could–

This time, the hero wasn’t even aware of it before it happened.

The remains of the building shook, then disintegrated into itself in a plume of dust and rock. The hero shielded their eyes with one hand, blinking against the onslaught.

What little air they had managed to get stuttered out of their lungs in something close to a sob. They had done this enough times to know there wasn’t anyone in that building left alive. 

They sagged down against the nearest thing–more rubble, maybe? They didn’t know–and this time when they rested a hand on their side, there was a considerably larger amount of blood.

“That’s…not great,” they said, and their fingers blurred in front of them slightly. There was an ambulance right there. Just a couple feet away. They had already helped most of the survivors, so maybe it would be okay for the hero to–

A paramedic rounded the back of the ambulance, and the hero lifted a hand, reaching–

“Please, wait, I think–I think,” it hurt coming out of their mouth, “help. Please I need–” they trailed off as the paramedic took the step up into the ambulance.

And closed the door behind them.

The hero wasn’t even that surprised when the ambulance began to drive away.

“Help,” they finished weakly, then sucked a breath in through their nose.

They were supposed to be good at this kind of thing. Surviving, no, thriving in catastrophe. A pillar of light. The one with the plan. 

The kind of being that didn’t beg for help on the ground.

The hero wasn’t entirely sure how they managed to get themselves back to standing. It was as easy as that–one moment they were on the ground, gravel embedded in their knees, and the next they were up and shaking but they were up.

“If I stay here, I’ll die,” they murmured. They had hoped maybe the threat would keep their legs from buckling again. It didn’t.

They weren’t near any place that could be trusted. There wasn’t a safe clinic for heroes on this side of the city, and even if there was, the hero wouldn’t trust them. Couldn’t afford to.

But as for near…the hero swallowed the nausea as it rose in their throat. There was one place they could go. One person they could go to.

Four miles. They could do four. There was no other option.

Where the hero had had some blurry recollection, or at least, a good guess of how they got to standing, they had absolutely no clue how they made it onto the villain’s porch. They managed a blink, retching slightly as they stared at the villain’s wavering door, then had to freeze just to bite down the pain that had come from the gagging.

They tried to knock and ended up collapsing against the villain’s door, knees giving out entirely as their fingers scrabbled for purchase and left behind smeared bloody marks on the wood.

They weren’t entirely sure how that happened either, or how long it took the villain to answer the door. Just that it hurt—so, so much, it hurt so–and that they managed to shove themself back into some semblance of standing right before the villain pulled the door open.

The villain’s face did a sort of spasming thing as soon as they saw the hero, jaw dropping slightly in what the hero could only really read as shock.

There was a very considerable amount of blood on the door. They were cold.

“I–” the hero tried, but they weren’t really sure where they had been going with that sentence, and after yesterday and the screaming and the fight the villain probably didn’t want to see them at all, didn’t want to ever see their face again, so–their mind blanked. “I got blood on your door.”

They tried to gesture towards it, but that hurt, so their hand simply twitched slightly from where it hung by their side.

They glanced down at their feet, because they didn’t want to see what the villain’s face was doing, especially if what it was doing was anything resembling anger.

“Oh.” There was blood at the hero’s feet. “And on your porch, too, I guess.”

They looked up at the villain, but they were still staring at them, brow furrowed, hand clenching on the doorframe.

“I’m sorry.”

There was a very faint quiver of tears when they said it, and the hero knew better than to hope the villain didn’t catch it. 

Were they saying sorry for the porch or the door or yesterday–

“Holy shit,” the villain finally breathed, and it sounded like it had been punched out of them. The hero froze, panic rising in their chest.

“I’m sorry,” the hero blurted out, stammering. “I’m–I’m so sorry, I’ll go, just–could I maybe have some bandages? Just–just one, maybe, please? I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” they said uselessly, head swimming. They couldn’t even remember what they were doing here. The villain was perfect in every sense of the word, stoic and proper and collected in a way the hero would never be; a marble statue brought to life. The idea of them letting the hero–the personification of a train wreck in motion–in to bleed all over the villain’s soft carpet and nice shoes and cause irreparable damage to their very expensive house was almost laughable. 

If they had had the breath to laugh.

More of the hero’s blood dripped onto the slats of the porch, and they stepped back. “I’m sorry–”

The villain reached for them, and the hero flinched, taking it for the dismissal it was–

The hero blinked, and it stuck for a moment too long as the world tilted, and when they pried their eyes open again the villain was staring at them with something the hero was too out of it with pain and possibly delirium to identify. Their gaze drifted back to the blood smeared on the door, and the villain’s grip tightened on the hero’s bicep–when had they grabbed the hero’s bicep?–until the hero’s gaze returned to theirs.

The villain said something, but there was a roaring that had started up in the hero’s ears. They seemed to take the uncomprehending blink the hero gave them in return for an answer anyways, and guided them down until they were both sitting on the cool wood. A tug, and the hero was resting against their own propped up knees, villain’s hand still firm on their arm.

“How much blood did you lose?”

It was like screaming underwater, the hero reasoned. Or through a mirror. But they heard it nonetheless, and that was their villain, and even in hatred and war they would always answer them.

“Was ‘supposed to be counting?” If they had any more energy–or maybe slightly more blood–in their body, the slur to their own words would have been concerning.

The villain’s lips pursed into a thin line, and the hero felt them begin to run an assessing hand over their injuries, cataloguing them, brow furrowing further with every second.

“M’sorry,” they managed, tongue thick. The villain didn’t pause.

“For what?”

“Bleeding on your door,” they managed. The villain stopped them from raising their head from their knees. “And your–porch.”

“I don’t give a shit about either of those things,” the villain said, simply, easily. Like it was nothing. Like they didn’t feel the weight of it as they threw it into the air.

The villain sat back on their heels, clearly having learned what they wanted from the hero’s injuries.

When the hero didn’t immediately look at them, the villain grabbed their chin, gently turning it until the hero faced them.

“How far did you walk,” they said slowly, and the hero had never been more grateful for anything in their life.

“Four miles,” the hero said, and they couldn’t hear their own voice above the roaring, but the villain obviously could from the way their eyes darkened.

The hero wanted no part in making the villain angry again–I never want to see you again, do you hear me? If you ever try to talk to me again I will kill the both of us, I promise you that–, but when they attempted to push themselves up to leave, the only thing they managed was a piteous whine and a stab of pain so intense they forgot to breathe.

“Idiot,” the villain hissed. But oddly, the hero didn’t sense any anger coming from the villain.

They blinked–too long, again–and found themselves in the villain’s arms as they walked through the house. Their head lolled back onto the villain’s shoulder, and the villain glanced down as if–to make sure the hero was okay. That they were conscious, and breathing.

Oh.

Oh.

The villain wasn’t angry.

They were afraid. For the hero.

Which didn’t make any sense, because–

I never want to see you again–

“You’re mad at me,” the hero reasoned, and it came out half strangled and petulant. The villain looked down at them, and the hero caught the tiniest flinch in their jaw.

“I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s not what you said yesterday,” the hero whispered, and the villain flinched.

“I wanted to stop this from happening.” The villain settled them onto a bathroom counter, lights flickering on as the hero leaned back against the mirror. Blood began to dry, sticky, between their fingers.

The hero’s mouth went dry, and it caught in their throat when they tried to swallow it.

“You could have just left me there.” Their voice only shook a little bit, but the villain’s head still snapped up from where they had been digging through a drawer.

“What?”

“On the porch,” the hero clarified, clearing their throat. The lump didn’t go away, and they had begun shaking at some point, and they couldn’t stop. “If you didn’t want to deal with me you could have just left me there–”

The villain’s face had darkened into something the hero almost didn’t recognize. 

“I would burn the world for you, and you think I would leave you to die on my porch?”

“You said you didn’t want this to happen.”

“No, that’s not–” the villain rubbed a hand over their brow, and the hero winced at the blood it left behind. “No. No, that’s not what I meant. I was trying to keep you from going to that stupid event and getting hurt. I knew it was going to blow.”

“I would have gone anyway.”

The villain stilled. “I thought maybe if you never wanted to see me again, and you knew I was there…”

“I would,” the hero repeated. “Have gone anyway.”

The hero watched as the villain’s face rippled through a dozen emotions, settling onto something unidentifiable.

“Why?”

“Because you were there,” the hero said easily, shrugging one shoulder. Because when it came to the villain, it really was that easy. They could scream, and shout, and hold a knife to the hero’s throat, and the hero would still follow them into hell. That was their villain.

The villain looked like the hero had stabbed them, face draining of color. Their fingers went white around the edge of the counter, as if it was the only thing keeping them upright.

“What,” the villain’s voice was hoarse.

“I went because I was hoping you would be there,” the hero said honestly

“Stop,” the villain raised a hand between them, a shield, voice breaking. They sucked in a breath, then another, like they were trying to keep themself from breaking down onto the tile.

“You would have gone to the event no matter what, just to see me,” the villain said slowly, and the hero nodded

“Yes.”

“Even though I screamed at you?”

“Yes.”

“And told you I hated you.”

“Villain, please–”

“Now you know,” the villain interrupted, voice incredibly soft. “Why I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero forgot to breathe for a moment, tongue going numb in their mouth. The villain couldn’t mean–

They blinked for a moment too long, and then the villain was standing between the hero’s knees, hand on their chest.

“You love me,” the hero said a moment later.

“Ruinously,” the villain agreed.

“So you–”

“I was trying to save your life,” the villain’s hands were gentle as they began to patch up the hero’s side. “And now I’m saving your life in a new and unanticipated way. But there is nothing you could ever do to stop me from saving your life.”

The hero’s heart clenched. 

“Really?”

The villain caught their chin, eyes boring into the hero’s. They brushed a piece of hair off the side of the hero’s face.

“Really.”

The hero sighed, and the villain caught them as they slumped.

“I thought you hated me,” the hero said, and they hated how raw they sounded. The villain made a choked little noise.

“I’m so sorry.”

The hero sniffed.

“Don’t do it again.”

The villain simply hummed, and smoothed the ends of a bandage down against the hero’s abdomen. The hero could feel their hands shaking.

You scared me.

A second later, their hands settled on either side of the hero’s head, and the villain rested their face into the hero’s hair. They pressed a kiss to the hero’s temple, tension easing from their shoulders.

I’m sorry.

The hero clutched the front of the villain’s shirt between their hands, drawing them closer. The villain went willingly, loose limbed with affection and the rapid draining of terror from their system.

“I would have never left you on that porch.”

The hero had never believed anyone more.

[screamingforests]

Love and Deepspace, dont ask

Zayne x reader, hurt/no comfort, mcd, spoilers for story after EP 5

~

It was a mission gone seriously wrong, leaving you gasping on the ground and clutching your chest. A protofield had gone awry, almost syncing with the Aether Core in your heart.

It created a negative loop, one that was threatening to tear you from the inside out.

But Zayne was there, talking to you. His face was scrunched up in fear, even as his voice remained steady. He couldn't do anything - not unless he could rip the core from your heart.

"...Zayne," you murmur, your voice so weak. Your hands fell limp even as he grasped at them. For once, you weren't scared. "There's nothing you can do."

"No- no-! Don't say that- I'm the best cardiac surgeon in the city, hearts are my specialty," Zayne frantically said, eyes watering. It was strange. Usually, he was the cold, aloof one. "I've got to have an option- there must be something."

As his hands began to tremble, you weakly grasped them to still them. Your entire body felt like it was burning, and he was so cool to the touch. A smile pulled your lips into a quirked position, even as a pain pulled your eyebrows together.

"It'll be okay, I'm not scared," you coughed, your heart unable to take the strain of the protofields anymore. You guide his hand over your heart, which was emitting a visible light through you. "Just... don't leave."

As the dust settled over a battlefield with two cores fighting, there were no sounds of battle. Just a distraught sobbing from a doctor who held onto the body of his loved one.

And even when you grew cold to the touch and your muscles tightened, Zayne had to be pried off of you by the other hunters. Tears ran down his face.

But yet, the world kept turning. And he had nothing but whirlwind memories to remember you by.

Eventually, the memories would degrade. Your smiles would fade, your laughter turning sour, your touch remaining cold. Your final moments plagued his every waking moment and he could only wish for the day he could join your side once again.

[fluffyluckyvampire]

I just had a dream that was basically a zombie apocalypse AU of obey me, where sometime after the extange programa a virus breaks out in the human realm and MC and Solomon desperately try to find a cure with both necromancy and science. (In my dream, they used somesort of necromancy type magic, so it'd only affect the dead) MC returned to the Devildom to research more magic and be safer while doing it; but MC (still being mortal) works themselves to the bone, barely sleeping or stopping to eat. So Mammon (and the rest of the brothers but mainly Mamms) are desperate to get MC to take a break, which MC (due to stress) kinda snaps at him because 'humans as a species are in danger' which in response (instewd of backing down) he brings up that if MC doesn't stop and take a break they'll probably end up stressing to death (because humans are fragile) and leave Solomon alone to try and fix this so MC tales a break but all they can think about is the literal apocalypse happening in the human realm.

ALSO, in my dream, whenever MC had to go to the human realm or were ever in danger, the brothers would bust ass and kill any zombies trying to kill/bite/get to MC.

Anyway, I thought that was interesting 🤷‍♂️

(Yes, I literally just woke up to tell ya'll my dream😭)

[creativesplat]

Stealing/ Affection: Link steals some time with Mipha after his death, and before his spirit rejoins his body in the shrine of resurrection.

[the-lark-ascending69]

android!Robin has several technical problems, the most important ones having to do with her memory card, battery and motor skills.

Androids are supposed to have perfect photographic memory, but Robin's memory is poor even by human standards. She tends to forget where she left her keys, what she was going to do when walking into a room, etc. She forgets her schedule all the time, as well as Nancy's, and can't remember a recipe to save her life. Dustin and Suzie say it's a problem with the connections needed to access her memory card, rather than with the memory card itself. It's fixeable, but extremely difficult and expensive. Robin wants to get this fixed and she's working hard to pay for it - she doesn't want to be an inconvenience. Nancy will support her decision, but she really isn't bothered by Robin's poor memory. She just hopes she's doing it for herself and not to make herself "easier to handle" for other people (she's been told that's what her worth was based on her entire life).

She's only had one memory card her entire life (as far as she knows). Nancy's greatest fear is Robin hitting her head and it breaking. One could potentially take out the memory card and delete it or install a new one - that is Robin's greatest fear.

At one point, her connections get so bad there will be days in which she can't remember Nancy at all, or what her own name is. She'll act almost like a normal android those days - following orders, not speaking unless necessary, not expressing emotion unless instructed to, etc, though her poor motor skills, battery problems and bad memory will make it difficult. It freaks Nancy out every time, and she always tries to get her to snap out of it as if she were human, before accepting that love can't solve this problem, and calling Dustin and Suzie to fix it. She'll pay any price if it means having her Robin back.

Robin lets herself be turned off without complaint, without even the terrified shudder Nancy used to feel when she forcibly did it during their first weeks together. Robin's docile obedience as she let Nancy do this to her, and the way her body went limp in Nancy's arms, never failed to bring Nancy to tears.

It would take days for Dustin and Suzie to fix some of Robin's problems. This one took between one and two weeks. Longest it ever got was 16 days. During that time, Robin would lay lifeless on their workshop's table, her battery sitting somewhere else to prevent her from turning on automatically. Dustin insisted that he and his lady (as he called Suzie) worked best when their kingdom (their workshop) was untouched by foreign hands, so Nancy wasn't always welcome to visit Robin in that state. Nancy was relentless, though, and she usually managed to convince him to let her in for a few minutes. He thinks it's pointless - it's not like Robin can feel her there. She can't even dream. It doesn't change anything. In fact, he worries Nancy will be more disturbed than comforted, because Robin's entire skull, neck and spine will be exposed - only it's not bones and flesh inside, but metal and plastic circuits, plates, chips, wires and pistons. He's careful to at least put her face back in place when Nancy visits. He expects her to be taken aback by the sight, but instead, Nancy's eyes are full of so much worry and care and adoration as she observes Robin's lifeless body. She doesn't dare touch her - she doesn't want to hurt her. But she misses her so deeply.

When it's all finished, Nancy takes her back home with the utmost care and tucks her into bed. She waits by her side until she turns back on, and softly talks to her, asks her how she's feeling, brings her some water and asks her questions, to see if she's back to normal. Because it's all recorded in her memory card, Robin can remember everything - can remember the time she spent not knowing who she is, thought she can't remember if she was self-aware during those episodes. Whenever she wakes up, she's just happy to see Nancy, and wants hugs and cuddles from her, but she begins to cry out of fear as she tries to remember the details of not being. Nancy holds her every time, asks her if she wants to watch cartoons or if she wants her to read a book for her, to keep her from spiraling. She hates seeing Robin look so small and scared, but she also knows she's not scared of anything Nancy can protect her from. The horrors haunting her come from her own mind and her own nature.

(Dustin and Suzie make a copy of Robin's memory card and give it to her, just in case).

Dustin and Suzie take care of any fixes Robin needs. They're much nicer than any other technician at the previous repair shops she's been to. The most usual fixes have to do with weakness and stiffness in her knees and hips, especially on her right leg (it got broken pretty badly during a beating by her last owner - Billy Hargrove. He wanted to make her unable to walk. The person his father sold her to next did a poor job fixing her). These fixes are usually quite simple and take very little time. She will refuse to see them, though, until she reaches her breaking point when she struggles to stand up, or when she suddenly falls to the ground. It always worries Nancy to death - she's terrified of Robin hitting herself and suffering even more damage. It always takes some convincing for Nancy to get her in her car and on their way to Dustin's workshop. Sometimes, the fix will be so simple they don't even need to turn her off. Nancy holds her hand during these.

The third big problem is her battery. Thankfully, her battery is detachable and easily replaceable. They only had a mayor issue with it once, and they had to order a new one. Robin's model is rare enough that it took over a week to get there. During that time, they installed solar pannels in the balcony and Robin had to be connected to them with long, thick cables that stretched all around the apartment. It was more amusing than anything else, having to step around the cables and make sure none of them got accidentally disconnected. Cloudy days made her pretty much useless and had her lying in bed watching cartoons all day. She was completely turned off after sunset and she was up by sunrise. Needless to say, she couldn't leave the apartment for the week and had to call in sick to work.

Good thing was, though, that the new battery worked much better than the previous one. It lasted much longer. Nancy had only seen her this excited a few other times. The way she kicked her bedroom door down with a wide smile on her face as she yelled at her to come to the kitchen just made Nancy smile with adoration. Robin showed her the box in her hands - she was shaking with excitement - and asked Nancy to help her install it. She turned herself off and Nancy did the rest - disconnected cables, take out old battery, install new one. When she turned Robin back on, she was more full of life and energy than she'd ever seen her be. Free from her cables, she immediately grabbed Nancy's hands and dragged her outside - the sun was shining and she wanted to run around in the park, to roll on the grass and count the cloud and photosynthesize with a good book in her hand. To Nancy, she looked like a puppy, or a happy little bird just released from its cage. She could never say no to her, they would spend the entire day outside if Robin wanted to.

[thebrokenmechanicalpencil]

Close your eyes, I'm here.

(..... @quibble-auk we ugh I might have really really wanted some sad fluff, it was supposed to be a quick blurb. Not connected or even angsty?? Then Comet took over, ugh my newest contribution to the Dropmix Trials..Yayyy...)

Tw. Eh Self worth, Self harm, angst with comfort because I could not take it right now.

-

Comet wanted to sleep, badly.

He sat in his customary chair beside his brother’s medical berths, with an air of exhaustion. It was noticeable from his dark eyes ringed with blue, the way his shoulders hung low but the muscles of his back still twitched with the need to be awake. It wasn't safe enough to sleep. Not here. Not when Comet knew so much and his brothers laid still in their own recharge. Sunstreaker recovering from his debacle with Dropmix.  A shiver racked Comet’s spine, his eyes burning at the memory of his cowardice, of his stupidity. If the young male could look any more tired, he did. Another wave of emotions hit when his mind turned those fifteen minutes over for the hundredth time. When the world had felt like it had caved in again.

  He had attacked Jeopardy. Like an animal he had tried to eat him, the young mech who had been nothing but kind. Comet had revealed himself to someone else, another pair of eyes. More adding onto his list of threats. What were the chances Jeopardy would turn in a report on him? Comet felt a horrible pit get deeper in his stomach, he had given no reason to not seem like a threat to the medic. He could be right now typing up a report, a slip of data that would get Comet taken away. Panic flared in his heart, tears burning his throat as he sputtered with horrible scenarios. All of which would be his fault. 

The muscle twitch of a yawn wracked through him, cutting off the worried train of thoughts. Comet did not release it, clenching his jaw against the organic signal. Even if he was alone now in a private room, among only his resting brothers.

Cometeater had not really slept since he had arrived in the torrential medbay, too frightened and nervous to close his eyes for more than a few minutes. 

It did not help that those few minutes of sleep were plagued by nightmares, that Dropmix himself and his smell had conjured back up. Those awful images on the computer had only worked up the terrors his mind tortured him with. Comet had  decided after the first night in Dropmix’s territory he wasn't going to sleep until Sideswipe woke up, until he was sure he was safe.

Then Dropmix hurt Sunstreaker. Then Comet tried to kill someone who might have been trying to be his friend. With that combined with every other stress, Cometeater finalized he just wasn't sleeping till they left this place.

What little he could snag was useless, it was a waste of his energy to try. Another yawn cramped his jaw, as Cometeater dug a claw into his arm to keep himself steady.

A warm hand grabbed onto his hand digging into his plating, “Hey..Don't do that..” 

Jolting, Comet looked to the side to find his red brother slightly awake, optics soft with the pain medication. Cometeater felt a new wave of loathing appear when he realized he was so deep into his own head he hadn't heard Sideswipe even stir. What if he had been in pain? Or needed a medic because of a complication? What if-

“Don’t do that either, Comet look at me.” Sideswipe’s rough voice was soft with concern, Comet hadn’t realized he had started to time his breaths with every rampaging worry on his mind. Which meant he was inches from hyperventilating.

Weak.

“No, no hey.”  Sideswipe was sitting up, he was not supposed to be sitting up.

Comet jerked eyes widening with concern, “Sides no, your-” The red mech said not a word, violet optics brightening with every moment as he looked around. Before landing on Comet, who had scrambled to be as close as possible in case the older mech had trouble. Cometeater stiffened under the knowing gaze, his hands dropping from their protective hovering as Sideswipe settled.

Many would underestimate the red mech as ditzy, maybe even stupid because of his smiles and charm. But those optics caught everything, it was annoying at times how well he knew Comet’s tells.

“You’re supposed to be resting..” It was a concerned murmur as another tired cramp went through Comet’s mouth, Sideswipe raised an eyebrow.

“Well yeah, same to you.” There was a protective lilt to Sideswipe’s curt snap, optics picking apart Comet’s tired form. The pretender had nothing in response.

“Yeah thought so, what's wrong?” Comet winced at the sentence, how many times had Sideswipe had to ask him that? Had to go out of his way to make sure Comet was alright. When all Comet did was let Dropmix-

A soft touch. Sideswipe’s rough hand moved to run along Comet’s face, a gentle grounding gesture that had the green mech trembling. He didn’t deserve it. “Don’t get too far in that head of yours Com, nothings wrong.”

But it was wrong, everything was wrong. This whole thing was his fault, if he had heard those seekers none of this would have happened, if he had attacked Dropmix he could have ended the fight before Sunny got hurt. “Cometeater I said stop it.” It was a snarl, that for what felt like the hundredth time, snapped him out of the deep water.

Sideswipe had a severe expression, his mouth downturned and brows knitted. “Talk to me. Don’t pull the you should be sleeping slag because you obviously haven't slept in weeks.” Comet closed his mouth at the pointed remark. Sideswipe had the gall to smirk, “I win. Now c'mon, what's swirling around in there?” Sideswipe tapped Comets' helm ever so softly to emphasize his point.

Comet took a shaky breath, “...I just can’t sleep, too..” Cometeater struggled to get out the right words. Sideswipe watched him patiently, thumb gently running down Comet’s face. That warm touch is what probably let the dam loose.

“Too much has happened, everything is so weird. A- and its my fault!” The thumb stopped.

“I-If I had heard those stupid seekers, if I hadn’t been sleeping, if I was doing what I was supposed to be doing!” Comet was trembling from the force of letting the thoughts finally fall from his mouth, “If I had not been so stupid,” His voice cracked, “ if I could have stopped Dropmix and not froze like some kind of coward-”,  Sideswipe opened his mouth, optics flaring with a sharp emotion. Comet didn’t let him speak, desperate to get the poison out of his brain.

“What kind of brother am I?! I dont deserve it I dont deserve you, Im not good enough-” Sideswipe cut him off by jerking their foreheads together, a gesture of pure tenderness that only made Comet sob.

Sideswipe hugged them tight together, his vents deep with what could either be rage or sadness, Comet felt guilt rear its ugly head once more.

Pressed against one another, they could feel the thrums of their hearts thudding. Comet’s slowed in response to the deep comforting hum of his brother’s. Sideswipe had his arms wrapped tight around the other, forcing slow breaths to ease the heartache coursing through him.

“I need you to listen to me, you hear me? No bullshit, no giggles, listen to me.” Sideswipe’s voice was raw with hurt, but firm as he turned his blazing gaze to meet Comet’s wet gold and black eyes.

“Never, ever say that again. None of its true. Not one word- Don't interrupt me.  First off Cometeater your ours, you will be till you die and you're gonna fragging deal with it. You're not a coward, Dropmix could have turned you into paste, you did nothing wrong. We talked about this. It's not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

With every word the mech grew more solemn, hugging Comet like the world was ending.

“Bad things happen, slag happens Commy. All because you have intuition better than Sunny and I combined doesn't make you all seeing. You're not a Primus damned prophet. No one could have known except the superiors, who we both know can’t tell their helm from their aft half the time.” He snarled, rubbing circles into Comet’s armor desperately trying to comfort the smaller mech, who had only watched with wet wide optics. But every sentence had taken some of the hurt away, left Comet feeling less heavy. He had missed Sideswipe so much.

“Dammit Com, why..” Sideswipe seemed to run out of steam looking at his brother trying to grasp the right words to clean the wound the younger had seemed to let fester.

Comet opened his mouth, heart throbbing at causing so much pain. Sideswipe caught it with a growl, “No. Don’t start, this isn’t something for you to apologize for..Comet I love you so much. We love you so fragging much..Your our brother, nothing will ever change that. Primus, you are the only thing we have that isn’t just us.  You’re ours, I wouldn’t have survived after the attack without you. Sunny might never have found us if not for you..Sweetspark you did everything you could have done.” The older mech's voice held a crack in it, Comet pressed himself forward to cling to the mech best he could with the berth in the way, trying to offer comfort in return. Allowing himself to just finally melt, almost weak from relief and the force of his outburst.

 Sideswipe let out a growl when Comet couldn’t seem to get close enough, and without warning pulled Comet up into his lap. The pretender let out a squawk, remembering Jeopardy’s warnings past his tears.

“Frag that, come here.” With that Comet was tight in the hold of his brother, Sideswipe soothing them both with the contact. For a moment neither said a word, Comet allowing his brother’s comforts to wash over him. His scent the hard thump of his spark, fear dripping away with every breath. As the two held one another, Comet could feel sleep gently tugging at his eyelids.

When Sideswipe spoke again, a while after, his voice was soft. “I'm so proud of you, ok? You did everything you were supposed to, and I'm so proud of you.” With that Sideswipe gutted his fears, stole them away and smoothed the edges. They both knew this wasn’t the last time they would sit down and talk about this, too much had happened. But both were tired, Sideswipe had begun to feel the ache of his old injuries, and Comet needed sleep.

“Go to sleep Com, I'm here. We're both here, we're all here.”

The smaller mech shook his head tiredly, “I tried..I can’t.” Sideswipe pressed his thickly armored helm against the smaller mech’s. “..Nightmares?”

Comet nodded into his brother's neck, fighting sleep with every breath. Sideswipe would have found the battle amusing, if the reason behind it wasn't so spark breaking. Sunstreaker was tiredly awake now, gazing at his siblings, concern in his optics. Sideswipe cuddled his smaller sibling closer, sending a quick tip over the bond that he would explain later. It was steeped in a request for the golden twin to hold his temper.

Sunstreaker moved so his shoulder was brushing Sideswipe’s, a tender gesture of understanding. “Nothings gonna get you Com, I swear it.” Sideswipe tried to ignore the pang of guilt that came along with the promise, how many times had he broken it?  

Sunstreaker sat up fully, tugging his brother down onto the berth and curling against him. Much like they did when they were sparklings, two pieces that fit perfectly.

Sunny laid his helm on his brother’s shoulder, optics a tired glow. Over the bond the gladiator sent soft pulses of warmth, trying to soothe the guilt.

“We're here little brother, nothing's gonna touch you.”

-

Jeopardy would later enter the private room in the morning, finding Sunstreaker awake sitting on the edge of the berth.  Sideswipe positioned so he was mostly behind the other gladiator, cradling a sleeping Comet. The green mech was firmly hidden behind the gladiators, they without budging asked the medic to leave. Saying they wanted some privacy for a few hours. Jeopardy had nodded ever so slowly, his fresh weld shiny in the low light. Leaving the energon on a nearby table, saying he would be back in three hours to check on their vitals. Neither mech said a word, violet optics firm and tired.  

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

So for spooky season (my favorite season) I wanna write more Ghostmmet oneshots, or at least one or two other ones! I have several ideas lol

But I also wanna write a noncanon crossover with ABYS, where instead of being found in time in ABYS, Emmet dies and becomes a ghost and things get real crazy around the station for a while.

Would people be interested in that, or do y'all think it would be too much? I have. Several ideas, and I think it would be so fun to focus on the spooky horror aspect. Something something a violent end leads to a violent awakening, classic haunting shit, stuff like that. More info in the tags of this post :)

I'd say it would still come to the same conclusion as like. He Trusts You.

But I don't know! Tell me what you think, preferably in comments of this post instead of in separate asks :) Thank you guys preemptively for feedback!

[windor-truffle]

with every nice comment on one of my fics, I become even more of a Sicko >:)

[painted-lemon]

i used to think that Orphan account was a real account. i would be reading Invader Zim fanfics in 2019 and think "wow this one was written by orphan account too? they write all the good ones." and then i would read some Be More Chill fics and be all like "wow they're in this fandom too?" I joined many more fandoms and did not find this fishy until 2021.

[mrspockify]

Suddenly had an idea for elitadream’s Body Swap au that merges the twin bond concept where the brothers can feel/sense the other’s physical pain. Even though Bowser can’t feel anything while he’s in Mario’s body, Luigi definitely can.

[not-poignant]

78/? - Underline the Black (omegaverse) - Efnisien/Gary

Title: Underline the Black Rating: Explicit Pairing: Efnisien ap Wledig/Dr Gary Konowalous Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Darkfic, Disturbing themes, Age Gap, Omegaverse, Alpha/Alpha, no Mpreg, Medical experimentation, Medical trauma, Dominance/Submission, Dystopian universe, Forced bonding, Forced relationship, Imprisonment, Nonconsensual medical procedures, PTSD, Flashbacks, Nightmares, Chronic illness, Mating cycles/Heats, Knotting, Miscommunication, Trauma recovery, Mind control, Child Abuse, Hope, Hopeful ending.

Summary: Efnisien ap Wledig is an omega born into an all-alpha family. Abandoned by his birth mother and raised by his aunt, he is subjected to a lifetime of medical experimentation and brainwashing and believes himself to be an alpha. But the experiments begin to fail, and he is abandoned yet again to an Omega Rehabilitation Facility, where the family expects he will be retrained into the ‘perfect omega’ and placed in an arranged marriage, or be eliminated if this is no longer possible.

The Facility don’t know about the experiments, and Efnisien doesn’t even know why he’s in there in the first place, since he’s an alpha…isn’t he? One thing’s for certain, he definitely doesn’t need an alpha companion, no matter what the staff at the facility seem to think.

Underline the Black - Chapter 78 - I Missed You @ AO3

In which Efnisien meets some new people for the first time without Gary watching over him, and it doesn't go too badly. Later, Gary returns from his visit to Perth, learns about Efnisien's adventures, and talks to him about the state of his heart.

– Thanks to all the Patreon and Ream supporters for making this story possible!

The following early access extras are also currently available on the Augus & Gwyn, and Efnisien & Gary tiers at Patreon and Ream:

Underline the Red - 05 - Caleb/Faber Underline the Red - 06 - Caleb/Faber Underline the Gold - 07 - Flitmouse/Anton The Nascent Diplomat - 41 - Augus/Gwyn Constellations - 03 - Efnisien + Gwyn (post Falling Falling Stars) Constellations - 04 - Efnisien + Gwyn (post Falling Falling Stars) Constellations - 05 - Efnisien + Gwyn (post Falling Falling Stars) Underline the Blue - 10 - Nate/Janusz Underline the Blue - 11 - Nate/Janusz Underline the Blue - 12 - Nate/Janusz

Want another way to support my writing? // I have a Patreon account! // Come check out REAM! (Patreon mirror) // Buy a Ko-Fi!

[illmoraineakoi]

Everyone out here giving Hollow cute moth partners, or pretty mantises or bees or whatnot.

Fuck that, where's the AU where Hollow falls in love with a massive feral Wyrm?