angelnara1004

[sugoroo]

ʚɞ warnings: fem!reader, reader plays volleyball, masturbation, oral (f receiving), obsessive behaviour, boobjob, penetration (p in v), 18+ minors dni.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who decides you're going to be his the very first time he sees you playing volleyball on the beach with your teammates wearing those pitiful scraps of material that can hardly be classified as a bikini.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes sure to pick up any and every extra shift he can just so he can figure out exactly what times you come down to the shore to practise.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose new favourite pastime is just to sit in his lookout post, barely paying attention to the water to keep an eye on anybody who may be in potential danger — no, lately, his gaze always seems to be fixed squarely upon you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but push his sunglasses up to rest in his hair so he can get a clearer view of you as you move around the sand, the way your scantily-clad body moves whenever you jump to hit the ball over the net just hypnotizing the poor man.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to disregard his duties completely to duck into a nearby beach hut when it becomes too much to just watch you, furiously fisting his leaking cock to the delicious mental image of your ass bouncing as you played.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who emerges from the hut looking like an utter mess, snowy locks dishevelled and swimming trunks hanging low on his hips as he stumbles back over to his lookout post. his strange behavior even grants him a few curious look from nearby beachgoers, but he couldn't care less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finds his hands clenching into tight fists by his sides when he observes one of the boys from the opposing volleyball team shaking your hand after a match. it's just a sign of mutual respect between players —  he knows that.

but that doesn't mean it irritates him any less.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who finally gathers the confidence to actually approach you later that afternoon while you're packing up your things, idly scratching the back of his undercut while he tries to think of a normal way to start a conversation.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who doesn't have to speak at all in the end, because you say the first words for him, greeting him with that pretty little smile of yours that he's only been able to see from afar up until now and outstretching a hand for him to shake.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't help but let a pleased grin spread across his lips while he returns the gesture, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction rising in his chest that his own touch on your palm has erased that previous guy's.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who falls even harder for you (if that's possible) during the few minutes he talks with you. it's nothing more than a friendly interaction between two regular beachgoers, but to him, it's one of many more to come.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels like he could do an embarrassing victory dance on the sand right then and there when you casually mention an upcoming volleyball competition that you'll be playing in. so you want him to be there, huh?

he nonchalantly responds that he might just be able pop by and watch some of it during his break — as if he isn't already planning on completely abandoning his post in favour of spectating the entire match instead.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is so full of excitement during the week leading up to the tournament that he just can't keep quiet about it for even a single second. his poor bestfriend lifeguard!geto is beginning to feel like he's the one with the giant, pathetic crush on you at this point.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would most likely be fired if his boss was to see him right now, sprawled across a bench and watching you compete at volleyball instead of looking out for drowning children in the waves.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is sporting a not-so-subtle tent in his swimming trunks as he sits there, which he tries in vain to hide by crossing his legs over his lap. i mean, can you really blame him? just look at the way those doughy tits of yours jiggle in that downright sinful bikini top!

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to clench his jaw to stop from snapping various profanities at the nearby beachgoers who have stopped in their tracks just to witness the match — he's not oblivious, he can see them checking you out just as he is.

but it's different when he does it. why? because you're going to be his soon enough. don't they understand that?

pervy lifeguard!gojo who isn't surprised in the slightest when your team easily triumphs over the other. after all, the opposing team doesn't have you on it. and although he knows little to nothing about volleyball, he can easily declare that you must be the best at it.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who would ideally like to run up to you and gush about how well you performed, but due to the very visible... problem in his trunks, ends up darting into the nearest beach hut for the second time this month to relieve himself because of you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is halfway through sloppily jerking his hips up into his closed fist when sunlight suddenly starts to flit through the gap in the door — shit, he was so worked up he forgot to even close it.

rookie mistake, satoru.

pervy lifeguard!gojo whose eyes widen to the size of saucers when he realizes it's you who just walked in through the doorway, shutting it gently behind you. he's about to start furiously apologizing for what you stumbled in on when he notices you don't seem nearly as shocked as you probably should be.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can only watch in stunned silence as you slowly saunter closer to him, your hands hidden behind your back as they easily untie the strings of your bikini top before letting it fall to the floor.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who releases what can only be described as a pornographic moan at the sight of your freed breasts, his neglected cock twitching beneath his hand as he ogles you without shame. if he had any self-awareness left, he might've been embarrassed of the small trickle of drool oozing from his slackened mouth.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who feels his cheeks flush a shade of red brighter than the leaking tip of his bobbing cock when you purr to him... "do you really think i haven't noticed you checking me out for these past few weeks, mr lifeguard?"

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow finds himself living out a scenario lewder than the wildest of wet dreams he's had about you, his jittery hips thrusting erratically between your tits as you keep them pressed together for him with your hands.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who reaches what is undoubtably the fastest orgasm of his life, his sunglasses toppling from his head as it falls back in bliss, messy white locks stuck to his forehead with sweat as he releases a series of broken groans and whimpers.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who immediately joins you on your knees once he's come down from his euphoric high, long pink tongue lolling out to lap up every drop of sticky cum he split on your pretty tits, sucking and nipping at every inch of supple skin within reach.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who just can't stop yapping, going on and on about how perfect you are, how you've been on his mind for what feels like forever, how sexy you look when you're hitting around that volleyball.

it seems the only way to actually shut pervy lifeguard!gojo up is to shove his beautiful face between your legs, the only sounds leaving him now being mewls of enjoyment as he mouths at your saccharine taste through your bikini bottoms.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is already too lost in you to properly remove the material keeping him from your pussy, instead lazily yanking it to the side with a single finger so he can dive nose-deep into your sweet cunt like he's been dreaming about doing for weeks.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who is just so messy with it, practically making out with your dripping hole as he rapidly delves his tongue in and out, moaning so shamelessly you'd think he was the one getting eaten out and not you.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who makes you cum using only his sloppy mouth so many times neither of you even know just how long you've been cooped up in this beach hut where there's a real possibility that someone could walk in at any given moment.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who can't hold himself back from fucking you anymore — he's waited long enough already, after all. so he's effortlessly manhandling you onto your back as he pushes in, eyes locked onto the sight of your tits still glistening with his saliva and cum from earlier.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who buries his face between the valley of your breasts as he ruts into you like a rabid animal, word after word of slurred praise failing from his lips as he looks up you with those wide, lovestruck cerulean eyes.

god, he's so fucking obsessed with you. getting to finally feel you like this was just the final nail in the coffin.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who somehow cums even harder than his previous climax, the overwhelming sensation of the tight, spongy walls of your cunt pulling him back in over and over again just unravelling his hazy mind with ease.

pervy lifeguard!gojo who has to psychically stop himself from letting out a choked whisper of 'i love you' as he spills his milky seed right into your womb where his cockhead is lodged, seemingly having enough awareness left to know that it's much too soon for that.

instead, pervy lifeguard!gojo settles for fixing you with a dopy grin so wide that both rows of his glinting pearly whites are on full display, murmuring a cheeky... "what do you say we make this a routine after every competition, pretty baby?"

© 2024 SUGOROO. please don't copy or translate any of my works without my explicit permission. all rights are reserved to me.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

pervy yoga instructor!geto <- PREVIOUS PART.

[pinkyqil]

hello ❤️

please could i request a lotte fic for halloween? r is one of the louder/ more outgoing players at arsenal so no one expects her to have got with someone like lotte. at the team halloween party they turn up in matching costumes and everyone finds out they’ve been dating for months/ years. maybe they tease r when she acts soft around lotte

ALWAYS THE LOUND ONES [Lotte wubben moy x reader]

Summary: you go to your teams Halloween party with your girlfriend not that many

A/n: hope you enjoyed reading this I definitely had fun writing this request if you have any other requests feel free to send them also katie slander if you don't like it moveee, don't take it to heart as everything is fictional meaning fake and not real

Contains: vulgar language,clingy gf!r,mention of alcohol, small drama because what arsenal without something dramatic happening.

You were a very outgoing and loud person no matter where or who's with you. always interacting with fans and teammates, and everyone knew you as the very extrovert person because of your personality.

But your girlfriend lotte, on the other hand was a shy one who rarely wants to be in big crowds and prefers being in calm places. rather than really lound places like you, but you guys always find ways to enjoy things you both love doing.

So it was rather a surprise to your teammates when they found out you both were dating at the annual Halloween costumes party because normally you would come alone without a panther.

So it caught them by surprise seeing you and lotte in matching swan costumes.

The first person to notice you and lotte together was leah, who had spotted you opening the door for lottie while holding hands.

She wanted to signal the group but decided not to cause everyone be doing that, and she wanted to see if something else would happen before she opened her mouth.

You and lottie were in your own little corner of the room. Not knowing that a few eyes were set on both of you.

Low and behold, Leah's institution was right when she saw you kissing lottie.

Deciding that enough is enough, she decided to walk up towards you both but silly katie had already beat her to it.

"So you and lottie?". Katie was the first to speak up after also witnessing you kiss your girlfriend.

"Yes and Katie?". You said with a very annoyish tone,the past few weeks Katie had been getting on your nevers, and she wasn't exactly the person you want to see and talk to.

"Woah Woah, there kitty it was just a question no need to get defensive".

Lotte could sense that you were about to curse out your arsenal teammates if another word was to come out her mouth and this time around she spoke up.

"Guys you wouldn't believe what i witnessed with my eyes right here and now". She announced to the whole group. Everyone could clear read the room except katie and that when lia had spoken up as she had always been tired of Katie's bullshit seen her break up with caitlin.

"Katie why don't you go find caitlin she's probably looking for you". Lottie told her teammates but to her supries the whole team was already coming there way.

"Speaking of caitlin she's right here with everyone". Katie said once again not getting the hint to shut up.

"Katie do you not know how to read the room or shut the fuck up in your lifetime we already know about there relationships it was quite obvious but to my dismiss it looks like you couldn't catch up on that". She said having enough of the Irish girl.

"Thank you lia and how did you know that lotte and I are dating. you asked knowing that you and lottie hadn't told anyone yet.

"Babes, it is quite obvious, especially with the way you look at lottie and that when lottie was still recovering, and we came to visit, we saw your stuff all over her house mate". She told you, to be honest you where never the organized one.

The rest of the night went calm with you taking down 3 drinks in one go while slurring up on your words talking about how amazing your girlfriend was and how much you loved her. Your teammates had a blast recording your confession to lottie who was trying to hold you up.

[brattyspence]

wedding date (part i.)

summary: reader needs to find someone to bring as a date to her younger sister’s wedding, and Spencer talks her into letting him pretend to be her boyfriend for the night to appease her family. This part covers the initial agreement and reader and spencer getting ready to attend the wedding only a/n: good god this was supposed to be a little drabble during the actual wedding but i wanted to make a cute intro and it became long as fuck. this is also my first completed fic for like… an embarrassing amount of time, so it’s imperfect and i’m feeling a little worried that the chemistry i am picturing in my head is not translating onto the screen! be kind with me! i also don't know how this works (i was a wattpad kid in my prime) and i just wanted to upload something to get started. warnings: fem reader, reader worries about being the eldest sister/only unmarried and single daughter within her family, she’s really an overthinking mess (omg who wrote this) fake relationship, tinder, men with j-names (lmao), one curse word? i think. NO Y/N USE :) word count: 1.9k

You leaned back in your desk chair, holding your phone up at just the right angle for Penelope to see the screen from where she stood behind you. You were swiping away on Tinder, narrowing down options to choose as a date to your younger sister’s wedding.

“Oh, he’s cute,” she said. “Wait, scroll up. I wanna see his bio.” 

You obliged, your thumb swiping up to read the body of text. 

“James,” You read. Your face visibly screws up. “Ugh,’ J’ names.” 

“You’re not marrying the guy, just using him. And besides,” Penelope leaned in to read his profile. “He plays pickleball, whatever that is… and he likes dogs!”

You swipe left.

“Ugh! Come on,” she huffs. “And this one has a fish in his picture. We’re getting nowhere.” 

You laugh at her remark, swiping again. 

Spencer had been half-listening from his desk across the bullpen. He was trying to finish up his paperwork. It was getting late, and most of the team had already left for the night. He didn’t want to hear about your tinder escapades, the mere concept made him more upset than he’d care to admit, but here he was, listening anyway.

“What are you guys doing?” He finally closes the manilla folder on his desk, looking up at you with a confused expression.

“Shit, Spencer. I didn’t think you were still here,” you huff, turning your phone off. You spin your chair to face him. “I’m trying to find a date for my sister’s wedding.” 

“Online?”

“On… Tinder.” You felt a little ashamed to say it out loud, especially to him. It was no secret in the office that Spencer made you flustered, and often. You had recently gone undercover together. It had required both of you to look the part and dress in something expensive looking. You had found yourself in a country club with a big fat ring on your left ring finger, playing the part of a happily engaged couple. You were tasked with convincing the unsub and bystanders of your act, while also not exposing your true feelings about him to the team of profilers watching through CCTV and listening through the microphone strapped to your top. You hadn’t done such a good job with the latter, apparently, and had found yourself subject to teasing from many of them after the mission was complete.

“You’re going to meet some guy that you found online… and bring him to meet your family?”

“Spencer, not everyone lives in the dark ages like you,” Penelope says, getting up from her spot on your desk. She begins her path towards the door, assuming you’ve hit a dead end for the night.

“What if he’s… a freak or something?” He asks. 

“Oh, please. I’ll run a background check on him,” she says, stopping in the doorway. “This isn’t my first rodeo, pretty boy. So unless you have a better idea…”

“I- yeah. I do have a better idea. Don’t do… that. I’ll take you.” 

I’ll take you.

You hesitate, your eyes flickering between his face and Penelope’s suddenly very stunned expression. The doorway is behind him, which you’re thankful for as she wildly gestures in her excitement before waving at you, mouthing something like ‘hurry up and answer!’ before slipping away to her desk. 

“You… you would do that?”

“Yeah, I would do that. Especially if it means you don’t go with James from Tinder.” He smiles. “Besides, I’m kind of upset that you didn’t think to ask me after…”

He had a point. 

“Fine,” you say, offering him a smile. “Thank you, Spence.”

“You don’t need to thank me.” He looks pleased, pushing his chair away from his desk and grabbing his things. He shuts off the desk light. “Just send me the details.”

You nod, deciding it’s late enough to do the same and finally go home yourself. “I will. Goodnight, Spencer.”

–

You had been standing over the hotel bathroom sink for half an hour as you perfected your makeup. Time was ticking. You had a half hour to finish getting ready and get down to the lobby for the ceremony, which would have been more than enough time if you weren’t as nervous as you were. 

You were putting your brush down on the sink and closing the bronzer compact in your hands when you heard a knock on the door. The compact fell from your fingers, hitting the sink and shattering. You cursed under your breath. 

Great.

You turned away from the mess, brushing the loose powder off your hands before stepping out of the bathroom and into the short hallway of the hotel room. You undid the lock, opening it cautiously. 

Of course he had to look good. Of course he had to show up with his perfectly undone hair, in that gorgeous suit Derek had helped him pick out, assuring you he would make sure it matched your dress. You dragged your eyes off of him, off of his undone tie, and up to his eyes. 

“Hi.” He started. His eyes turned slightly with a hint of a smile. “Everything okay?”

You huffed. “Yeah. I just… dropped my bronzer and it shattered. It's fine.” You shook your head. “I'm sorry. Come in…”

You stepped aside to let him in, shutting the door behind him. 

“I know I’m early… You were just kind of anxious on the phone earlier. I thought you might want some company.” He set his suit jacket down on the edge of your bed. “Do you want me to help you clean that up..?”

“No, no. I don't want you to get dirty. I got it,” you said. You stepped into the bathroom, picking up the compact from the sink. You tossed out the case and rinsed the powder down the drain, watching it swirl away. He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, watching. 

“How are you feeling about this?” He asked. 

“About… this?”

“About your sister getting married,” he clarified. He looked a little concerned as you fumbled with your things, cleaning up the countertop. “I know you were worried about it. And clearly you're feeling some type of way…” he says, furrowing his eyebrows as he watches you drop another item in your haste to clean up.

There was so much to be anxious about. Being the eldest daughter, the only single daughter, being this close to him when he looked so good and smelled like some kind of cologne that was new to you and made you a little dizzy, the knowledge that he got up and got ready to take you to an event, and that he would return home at the end of the night and you’d still be here, alone, pining over a man who was oblivious to your adoration for him. 

You swallowed, zipping your makeup bag and setting it at the back of the sink. 

“Bittersweet. I don't know. I'll be fine.”

“You will be,” he said. He was watching your expression, clearly in thought. He was waiting for you to say something more, it seemed, but you didn't have anything to say. “You’ve dealt with harder things.”

A beat of silence passed between you. 

“I just… feel a little left out, I guess.”

“Left out?” He cocks his head. 

“Yeah. My two younger sisters are married and I'm… not. It feels stupid to say out loud.”

“It's not stupid if it's bothering you…” 

You look up at him, meeting his gaze. He was genuinely concerned, and waiting for you to finish your thought.

“It's nothing. It's really ridiculous,” You shook your head as if to shoo away your thoughts. “I guess I should put this dress on.” You turned your head to gesture at the garment bag hanging off the shower rod.

He nods, deciding to leave the subject alone. He pushed off the doorframe and stepped back into the larger area of the hotel room. You closed the bathroom door softly and turned to put your hands on the edge of the sink, taking a deep breath to center yourself.

You quickly pulled your phone out of your pocket, sending an update to Penelope who had so politely requested for you to keep her in the loop.

You: im making such a fool out of myself. im SO NERVOUS.

She writes back immediately.

Penelope: i’m sure it will be fine! he's a gentleman!! don’t stress yourself and have fun :)

You slip off your pajamas, pretending he's not ten feet away from you as you fold them on top of the sink. You unzip the garment bag, pulling the dress off the hanger, then unzipping the dress itself. JJ had helped you pick it out, and she was right about it; it is stunning. It slips over your body like a glove, the silk material sliding right into place against your skin. You held up the front of the dress, arranging the straps over your shoulders. What you hadn’t thought about was the zipper. There was no way you could do it yourself, which only left one option. 

You held the material covering your chest up, cracking the bathroom door open.

“Spence?” 

He looks up from his phone. He had been sitting at the edge of your bed, seemingly reading something on the device. You see his eyes flicker over your form briefly and then back up at your eyes.

“Can you help me zip this?” You ask.

He nodded, visibly swallowing. He turned his phone off with a click, leaving it on top of the bed as he got up to make his way to you. You turned away from him, the bare skin of your back exposed to him. 

You felt his fingers ghost across your skin, catching the loose strands of hair that obscured the zipper's path and tucking them over your shoulder. His fingertips found the base of the zipper, gently tugging it all the way up and doing the clasp at the top. The simple action felt like it took minutes, hours maybe. You found yourself wondering if you were crazy for thinking that the way in which he did this simple favor for you was incredibly intimate.

You tugged your mind back to the present moment, looking down at the dress and smoothing it out with your hands. You turned back to face him, admittedly overwhelmed by his proximity. 

“For what it's worth, you look beautiful. And you have nothing to worry about.” 

Oh.

You shook your head again, a futile attempt at deflecting the attention you were so desperately unprepared for.

“You don't have to do that.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he says. There’s no sarcastic edge to his comment. There’s not even the typical arrogance that men offered with their compliments. He was entirely genuine, and looking at you with a distinct fondness that you were unsure you’d ever noticed from him before. Maybe you were imagining it.

You sighed, avoiding his gaze for a second before looking up at him. 

“But we do need to get going.” He glances at his watch. The tension shatters.

“Shit,” you sigh. “Right.” 

You force yourself away from him, and finish getting ready in a hurry. You strapped on your heels quickly before rummaging through your makeup bag again to find your perfume, which you very carefully sprayed over yourself. You slide your phone into your clutch, tucking it under your arm before looking up at him once more. 

“Are you ready?” You ask. You step closer to him, straightening his tie carefully. “I didn’t think I’d be the one on edge today. You’re facing my entire family’s interrogations…”

He laughs. “I’ve been trained for this, you know.”

You smile. “I guess you have. So let's get going, then."

[blueishjellyfish]

How BigB would work in different alliances?

There was a poll someone made a week ago, which inspired this post. The poll was about who you would think would be the funniest team up for BigB. I don't remember what I answered, but these are my thoughts on how well he would've fit in in each team. I especially talk about his dynamics with individual people here.

Also sorry for any mistakes, I've written this as it came into my head so some points might not be clear, so sorry. Also, comment down your opinions about these dynamics I would love to hear them :).

!SPOILERS FOR WILD LIFE AHEAD!

The Bamboozlers

Jimmy- he has an amazing dynamic with Jimmy already, I mean that scene in 3rd life where Scott and I think Martyn? was 3rd wheeling their little inside jokes, their dynamic is underrated for real. They seem to be great friends irl and BigB seems very comfortable around him, and Jimmy also contributed heavily to the whole hole thing happening in Secret Life ("BigB that hole changed you!")

Lizzie- he's teamed with Lizzie before and honestly I loved their dynamic too- that scene with them at the fairy fort with Cleo, *chef's kiss*, and then Lizzie killing him with fireworks, claiming he was the start of her downfall, which in some ways he truly was, amazing. They're so silly together.

Scar- Scar who he hasn't teamed with but I would really like to see more of their dynamic. BigB oftentimes plays well into Scar's scams especially at beginning of the series, in 3rd life he was probs the only one to acquire and use the no kill pass, also Grian and Scar said multiple times that they don't want to kill him. In Last Life I think Scar managed to scam him out of a few diamonds by claiming to be the bogeyman which I don't think BigB truly thought but I think he likes playing into these little bits. Also he always has a 100/100 on Scar's reputation board, so he's doing something right lol. Would love to explore more of their dynamic as well.

Redwood mound

Ren- don't feel like I need to put anything down for this one, I mean he's teamed with Ren almost every single life series (that Ren's been in). Box boys all the way. I feel like BigB is used to the dramatics, and !SPOILERS! in the recent episode they even agreed to be the Kings of the Corners, so honestly they might've allied up again, but we'll see how it goes. However, considering the dramas of Double Life (when they last teamed up*) I mean the Secret Soulmates, and the whole fight at Scott's farm, although it got offset really by the fact they were both red ig. Also, BigB has made a few remarks during the therapy session on how he felt that Ren was looking/hanging out with too much like Martyn, so that's something. Overall, though they would make a great team imo. Hopefully this allyship they have in ep2 lasts.

*some might say that on a technicality they also teamed on SL, since Ren possessed Tango's body for an episode, and BigB was teamed with Tango at the time.

Martyn- Blue Sword Boy, and if I'm not mistaken the first recruit to the dogwarts army. They have some good bits together, especially with Martyn scaring him in SL (which was very funny), or going through BigB's backrooms with Jimmy trying to find him. So far though I don't think they talked a lot in Wild Life, but they were both in Evo together so extra points. Plus I love the lore Martyn sort of gave him/talked about.

The Spanners

Grian- ain't it obvious? Secret Soulmates anyone? Truly love their dynamic, similar to Jimmy they seem like good friends irl. Also he was the og gaslighting victim of BigB. That 'hole' (haha get it, like whole but hole? ok I'll leave) interaction changed the trajectory of human kind, or well the life series ig. I saw many ppl wanted a day 1 alliance for them which unfortunately didn't come to fruition (there's always another time), but they have a good dynamic for a great team, can't wait to see more of their interactions :D

Skizz- he's teamed with Skizz in the last season. I love how Skizz calls/called him BigPoppa (did I spell that right?) (edit: it's spelt BigBopper, thank you crystaleevee4 for the correction!). He felt a bit like a third wheel, but Skizz and Tango did a good job to include him in their shenanigans. Also we see time and time again on how BigB likes to stay by himself (I might talk more about that in another post ;p), so I think this dynamic suited them well. I think they worked very well together, and Skizz actually defending BigB from getting killed by Jimmy when BigB had to betray him was wholesome. Speaking of which, BigB having to betray Skizz cause of the task was brutal, imo f it wasn't his task he wouldn't have done it and he seemed very apprehensive about doing it, which probs stems from betraying Cleo and not being able to live it down (until now of course). So the fact that Skizz didn't turn on him and mark him as a traitor was a nice moment in my eyes.

Mumbo- I'm basing these off the top of my head and I don't think him and Mumbo interacted a lot before. !SPOILER! I'm pretty sure BigB jump scared him with his creaking in ep2 which was fun. I think it would be an interesting dynamic, they both are very silly, however with the paranoia infiltrating Mumbo this season I think he would trust BigB less than Grian, with BigBs more cryptic nature and such, but I do think it would be very fun to witness.

Tuff Guys

Etho- Anybody else still stuck in that moment in 3rd life where Etho and BigB got left alone and were riding in boats talking? No just me? OK, well what can I say, I think it's my most favourite underrated dynamic. They're both quite antisocial but in different ways. Etho likes to stay with his comfort ppl, ppl he knows well. Wheras, BigB tends to start basing alone, and then gest adopted by other ppl. That moment when BigB jump sacred Etho was everything to me, not to metnion Etho's reaction was quite funny. I think their humour goes well together, and what can I say, they would make the best cryptic duo lol.

BDubs- !Spoilers! "Did you just call me Bdubs?"- BigB ep2. Out of everyone, I personally feel like they are in opposite worlds to each other. Aside from Bdubs killing him in 3rd Life and BigB killing Bdubs with Ren in Double Life, I'm not sure I remember any particular moments between them, although it might just be my memory. I'm unsure if they would do great in a team but I don't think BDubs would particularly trust BigBs cryptic nature (I use the word cryptic a lot don't I?) I think BigB might push the line on Bdub's trust issues too much.

Tango- teamed before in SL, and 3rd life. I think they are nice and familiar with each other and would work well as a team. The more I think about it even as a duo they might be more interesting. I think B would calm Tango down and they would get into silly little shenanigans together, and near the end of a series Tango would push BigB to be more explosive and dangerous (BigB would probs go along with the plan, but when it goes AWOL, he'll probs try to abort it.)

The Family

Gem- Gem has only been in SL before, so it's hard to pinpoint what they're dynamic would be. Gem is very nice and would protect BigB well, and BigB would respond with his kind nature back and they would be quite a nice team. At least at the start, when the bloodshed starts I don't think BigB would be able to control Gem's bloodlust.

Joel- I don't think they've interacted a lot in the life series or at least there haven't been many significant moments that I could think of at least. They would get along great, and I can imagine Joel leading BigB into battle, but I don't think BigB can handle Joel's explosiveness for long-term.

Finally the GGGGs

Cleo- !Spoilers! OMG the lore! the way Cleo has finally forgiven him after what like 4 seasons? truly love it. During Last Life when they were still allies they seemed like a good duo. They cared about each other and Cleo tended to trust him more over the other fairy fort members imo. She was kind and loyal like she usually is with her day 1 allies, which I think is what made the betrayal worse. Throughout the 4 seasons BigB really seemed sorry about what he's done, and usually backed away at the mention of it and now that all is forgiven I'm sure he won't make the same mistake again (unless he wants another 4 seasons of anger from Cleo). I think in this new alliance he will try to atone for everything and I think even if it came down to him and Cleo at the end he wouldn't even consider killing them and would sacrifice himself. Cleo also seems to be the first one to realise that BigB is alone, and might need some friends. I mean if they decided to still stay upset, B would probs still be alone as no other team has really reached out an invitation to him (aside from the thing with Ren).

Pearl- NOSY NEIGHBOURS! Do you guys even have a clue on how much I loved nosy neighbours? Obviously not since this is like my 5th post on this website, but they truly are everything to me. The always watching bit which made everyone go nuts on the Watcher implications. The way that Pearl was alone all last season, rejected by her soulmate and finally found and established a healthy friendship with someone. The way Pearl wanted BigB to win, but he died before her, so tragic and I love it. And Pearl was everything BigB needed as well, someone to be his day 1 alliance. I could talk for hours about them but I won't. But I love their dynamic, hopefully we'll see more of it :3 (Also there was literally a mention of nosy neighbours in ep2, and I'm so happy!) (What if I said I made this whole post just to talk about it? lol)

Scott- BigB hasn't teamed with Scott before, but they seem to be on good terms. Especially from what I've seen in the current episode, Scott is good at including BigB into the conversation. And from what I've noticed Scott's also good at hearing people even if they're quiet, in a conversation in a group of people, which I think goes well with how BigB often is. Besides the way they were called brothers by Cleo I think in ep2 cause of the creaking they have incorporated into their skins was great. Some ppl were saying Scott is like BigB's creaking heart, and let me tell you guys I'm on board. Because of this I think they would be a great duo and I would love to explore their dynamic more.

Impulse- Silly silly bois. If they ever got separated from the other Gs they would probs go on a mission and fall into a water hole they wouldn't be able to get out of. That's all I can imagine when I think about them. Them ending up going on a somewhat serious mission and in the midst of it ending up in a silly situation that would def kill the previously serious mood of a spy mission.

Overall, I think from ep1 I knew he would likely team with the 4Gs. I don't say this in a negative light whatsoever, but considering the fact that BigB wasn't willing to move his base this time (like he has done quite a few times before, RIP BigBs abandoned started bases lol) and the proximity he had to the group it was pretty obvious but still fun. Can't wait to see what shenanigans (I've used this word too much too right?) they get into and how the season goes. Dynamics and teams can still change, I mean there might be another them vs us like there was in 3rd life with Dogwarts and everyone else basically. Anyways I can't wait to see what this season brings! :D

Sorry for the long read, but honestly I quite like doing these analyses, so there might be more coming soon. p

Lastly, I would like to state, these assumptions about dynamics are based on my personal opinion. This opinion is derived from the content that the creators put out and will likely not reflect their true dynamics as friends. I might be wrong, or have overlooked some key points. Also my memory of events happening in the life series are quite foggy, I might be wrong on some points. I did this for fun and again this is entirely based on my own assumptions, which are subject to change. :3

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 3727

this is loosely based off of sympathy is a knife by charlie xcx, it’s a lot of world building please bear with me i have a vision (-﹏-。) also expect cursing. this is quite a long one (im working on multiple parts), i'll try to post as much as can.

part ii part iii part iv

All children are encouraged to do their best, dream big, and reach for the stars. But let's be honest: how many kids actually achieve that goal? How many adults can say they have been fighting for their place for far longer than they can remember?

Not a lot.

That kind of passion was rare. But perhaps it was more than passion; maybe it was the sick sense of wanting something bigger than yourself. Maybe she was just a workhorse that never learned when to stop. 

Growing up karting was where Yn found a love for motorsports, it was her dad that introduced her to it. A part of her felt for the older man; this had been his dream as much as it was hers. Back then, it had always been just a hobby, even though she had already achieved multiple wins. She never thought it would come this far.

At 16, she was picked up by the Red Bull junior team to race in various junior categories, eventually making it into Formula 3 and then Formula 2. Even then scoring points and race wins came easy. Years of hard work and dedication had done her well, with many saying that a Formula 1 career was surely in the cards for her.

And if she was being honest, Yn was hungry for that Formula 1 seat.

Yn’s laptop lit up with an email, enclosed was her contract with VCARB. She was going into Formula 1.  Was it arrogant to say she had been expecting this? Could you blame her for asserting it wasn’t a matter of if, but when? 

But signing the contract should have felt like a victory, a promise fulfilled, a chance for everything she’d worked toward to pay off. But as the seconds flew by, Yn could already feel the weight settling over her, heavy as a storm cloud. The stakes had never been this high, and the whispers were already there, quietly accusing, scrutinizing. Her entrance into F1 wasn’t just a testament to her skill and ambition; it was a flashpoint, a reason for some to undermine her achievements and question her right to be here.

F1 wasn’t just a men’s world—it was a battleground where “passion” for her felt dangerously close to “obsession,” and her relentless pursuit of victory was both her strength and her vulnerability. Yn knew that she couldn’t just be good; she had to be perfect, ruthless in her pursuit for wins and podiums, and undeterred by every sly remark and skeptic. Sympathy, after all, was nothing but a knife in disguise, and she’d long since learned not to expect it from anyone, even her team.

Her first day at VCARB was a whirlwind of meetings, briefings, and countless faces both excited and skeptical. The engineers studied her, sizing up the girl who was stepping into a seat she’d earned, but one they seemed to question if she could keep. Her jaw tightened with determination—she would prove every one of them wrong, and not out of spite but out of an unyielding hunger to carve her name in F1 history.

Yuki arrived in the afternoon, a familiar face in a sea of unknowns. With an easy grin, he crossed the garage, his demeanor effortlessly lighthearted as he joked with the engineers before catching her eye. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here so soon,” he teased, a glimmer of pride in his eyes that he knew she’d earned.

She let a small smile slip, and for a moment, the walls she’d erected came down. “Surprised? I thought you’d know better,” she quipped back, crossing her arms.

“Not surprised,” he replied. “Just excited. Maybe I’ll finally have someone here to keep me on my toes.”

But behind their friendly exchange was an edge, a reminder that this was a competition and that teammates or not, they were both vying for survival in the world’s most ruthless racing series. They had both clawed their way here, and no amount of camaraderie could change the fact that every second on the track was a chance to prove they deserved to stay.

Underneath Yuki’s easygoing nature, she knew there was a fierce competitor. She’d seen him race, seen the raw talent that made him as unpredictable as he was quick. Yn knew they’d push each other to the limits, that their friendship would inevitably become a duel of ambition. And she wanted that—it made her hungrier, sharper.

But there was something different about her fight. Being the first female F1 driver in years meant her wins were never just hers; every success and failure became ammunition for those who doubted women in motorsport. There was no room for mistakes, and any slip-up would be amplified, dissected in the press, on social media, even in private conversations she was never meant to hear.

One night, as she stared out at the empty track after hours, she felt Yuki’s presence beside her. “They’re going to be watching everything I do,” she said, voice low, a rare admission of vulnerability.

“They watch all of us,” he replied softly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But I know how hard you’ve worked to get here. And… well, if they think they can beat you down, you’re gonna prove them wrong. Just… stay hungry, yeah?” He nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hungry?” she scoffed, steeling herself. “I’m starving.” 

Yuki chuckled, but it was laced with respect. “Good. Because that’s what it takes.”

The season had started on fire for Yn. Her first four races saw her consistently in the points, an impressive feat for any rookie, let alone one under as much pressure and scrutiny as she was. Headlines praised her talent, with journalists and fans alike marveling at her ability to keep up with more seasoned drivers. Her team, too, seemed to start letting their guard down, seeing her not as a gamble, but as an asset. But as is often the case in Formula 1, the success didn't last forever.

Her fifth race began with promise, but Yn knew almost from the start that something was off. The car felt different, twitchy around the corners, each lap feeling more and more like she was on a knife’s edge. Halfway through, she could feel her grip on the track slipping, but she pushed harder, unwilling to lose ground.

With just a few laps remaining, the inevitable happened.

The crash was swift and brutal. The car spun out in the third sector, her back tires skidding as she lost control. She hit the barriers hard, the sound of carbon fiber breaking echoing through her helmet. Her vision blurred as the world spun, then finally stopped, leaving her breathless in the cockpit, staring at the wreckage around her.

Her engineer’s voice came through her headset immediately. “Yn, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, trying to steady herself, adrenaline still pumping as she felt the sting of defeat sink in. “I… I’m sorry. I lost it. The car just—slipped.”

There was a pause on the other end, a moment that felt like judgment even through the crackling radio. “We’re glad you’re okay. We’ll get you back to the garage. We’ll review the data,” her engineer replied, his voice careful.

Yuki’s voice came through on her personal channel moments later, after seeing her crash on his onboard. “Yn? You alright?” His tone was laced with concern, stripped of the usual playfulness.

She swallowed, fighting the frustration building in her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… pissed off.”

“You’ll be back next race,” he assured her, but she could only respond with silence. The shame of letting her team, her fans, and herself down weighed heavily on her.

In the post-race interview, Yn struggled to find the right words. The cameras focused on her, the flash of lights overwhelming as journalists fired questions, each one cutting a little deeper.

“Yn, it was a tough day. Do you think the pressure got to you out there?”

She clenched her fists, forcing a composed smile. “I don’t think it’s about pressure. Today just… wasn’t my day. The car was giving me some issues, and I did my best to control it. Sometimes, that’s just racing.”

“But after four races in the points, are you worried this is a sign of things to come?”

The question sliced through her like a knife, and she could feel the weight of the implication: that she was fragile, a fluke who’d just been lucky.

“No, I’m not worried,” she replied, her voice steady but tense. “One race doesn’t define my season. I’m here to compete, and I’ll be back even stronger next race.”

When the interviews ended, she caught Yuki’s eye across the paddock. He gave her a nod, a silent show of support that reminded her she wasn’t alone, even if it felt like she was carrying the world’s judgment on her shoulders.

The news coverage the next day was ruthless. Headlines screamed with exaggerated disappointment: “Yn Cracks Under Pressure?” and “First Female F1 Driver in Years Falters After Promising Start.” A few outlets were kinder, chalking up the crash to typical rookie mistakes and downplaying any concerns over her ability to handle the car. But most took the crash as an invitation to dissect her every move, doubting whether she could handle the demands of the sport.

Social media was ablaze, fans and critics alike chiming in, and Yn could barely stand to look. She knew this was part of the game, that everyone in F1 was under scrutiny, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that for her, the stakes were higher. Every failure she faced felt amplified, a reason for the world to question her right to be here.

Yuki called her that night, his voice calm and soothing against the chaos swirling around her.

“I’m just so pissed,” she admitted finally, her frustration cracking through her voice. “I wanted to prove that I belong here, and now… it feels like all anyone sees is this one mistake.”

“You know that’s not true,” he replied, a hint of warmth in his tone. “Everyone makes mistakes, even the greats. They’ve all crashed at some point. Don’t let them take that fire from you. Because once the season’s over, they’ll see what you’re made of.”

She took a shaky breath, comforted by his words. It was strange—she’d started this journey expecting every teammate to be a rival, another barrier to overcome. But in Yuki, she’d found someone who understood the relentless, hungry drive that fueled her, and who respected it.

The next morning, her team’s engineers ran a debrief, analyzing the telemetry and tire data from the crash. They assured her that she’d made the right call in pushing the car, that the twitchiness wasn’t imagined. Yn felt a flicker of relief; maybe she hadn’t just cracked under pressure, maybe it had been an unfortunate mix of circumstances. But no matter the reason, she knew she had to rise from this stronger than before.

It had been a long race, Jeddah was grueling and relentless, yet Yn had been on the verge of a breakthrough. She was fighting tooth and nail for P8, going wheel-to-wheel with Fernando Alonso in the final laps. She’d been holding her own, each move calculated, each corner taken with the precision she’d been honing for years. This was her shot, her chance to show everyone she wasn’t a fluke or a face in the crowd. She was ready to prove herself.

Then it happened.

They clashed in the final sector, both fighting for space. Fernando took the inside line, edging her out, and she, desperate to hold her position, stayed close, too close. Their wheels touched, and in a flash, her car lost stability, skidding and spinning before colliding with the barrier. The jolt left her breathless, her hands gripping the wheel as the rage took over.

Her engineer’s voice cracked through the radio. “Yn, are you okay? What happened?”

She clenched her jaw, trying to control the fury building up inside her. “That fucking guy, Alonso! He squeezed me—left me no room!” Her voice was shaking, frustration and adrenaline spilling over. “I had that position!”

There was a silence on the radio as they processed her words. “Copy, Yn. We saw the incident. Just stay calm.”

Stay calm? She’d given everything, and now, twice in a row, her race had ended in ruin.

After the race, Yn felt the press of cameras and microphones on her as she trudged toward the media pen. She could barely contain the frustration bubbling inside her, a storm barely held back as reporters closed in, questions already on their tongues.

“Yn, this is the second crash in a row. Are you feeling the pressure of Formula 1?”

“What’s your take on the incident with Alonso? Do you blame him?”

Yn took a steadying breath, but the calm she'd usually conjure wasn't there. “Look,” she said, voice tight, trying to keep her tone steady, “I know what happened out there, and Alonso gave me no space. I was holding my line, fighting for position like we all do. I’ll review the footage with the team, but if people think I can’t handle the pressure—they’re wrong.”

The next question felt even more loaded. “Is it challenging to maintain focus, given the scrutiny you’re under as the first female driver in years?”

She forced a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not here to be a spectacle; I’m here to race. Everyone’s under pressure in this sport. It’s what makes us competitors. The scrutiny just makes me hungrier.”

Her words were pointed, but she could already feel the twisting of her words forming in the reporters’ minds, their pens scratching away, headlines already buzzing to life in their notebooks.

The news the next morning was merciless. Some articles analyzed her crash with Alonso, calling it a “rookie miscalculation,” while others openly questioned whether Yn’s composure was “cracking” under the scrutiny. The worst were the opinion pieces, suggesting she might be better suited to junior categories if she couldn’t handle the rigors of F1.

Yuki found her in the paddock later that evening, her expression set as she packed up her things, clearly wanting to avoid any more eyes on her. He walked over, hands in his pockets, a gentle smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Rough race out there. I saw the footage—Alonso really gave you no room.”

She shot him a look, her expression unreadable. “Thanks, Yuki, but I don’t need anyone to say it wasn’t my fault. I should’ve handled it better.”

“It wasn’t about fault,” he countered softly, unfazed by her edge. “It was a close fight. You held your ground. Besides, you’re doing something none of these people could even dream of.”

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shoving her race gloves into her bag. “Spare me the pep talk. I don’t need anyone’s sympathy. Especially not yours.”

He took a step closer, not backing down. “This isn’t sympathy, Yn. You’re one of the best rookies on the grid. Every one of us has crashed. I know what you’re going through, and I know how much you want this. But maybe don’t let their voices drown out what you already know—you deserve to be here.”

She wanted to tell him to stop, to remind him that it was different for her, that every mistake was fuel for those doubting her existence in this sport. But instead, she looked away, unable to bring herself to speak. She didn’t want to be seen as weak, as someone who needed reassurance.

Yuki sighed, catching the conflicted look in her eyes. “Alright,” he said quietly, his gaze softening. “Just… don’t forget that you’ve got people here who believe in you. No matter what the headlines say.”

She gave him a brief, reluctant nod, her voice a whisper. “Thanks, Yuki. But belief isn’t going to get me P8.” She turned and headed for the exit, leaving him behind as the words hung in the air, heavy with the reminder of just how high the stakes were.

Yuki knew things had changed since those days in the Red Bull junior program. Back then, it was just him and Yn, two kids pushing limits, sharing laughs and late nights studying data, feeling like the world wasn’t so big, like maybe they’d take it on together someday. She’d always been determined, sometimes stubbornly so, but she’d had that spark, that glint in her eye when she talked about F1 like it was the only thing that mattered. But now, standing at the pinnacle they’d dreamed of, Yuki could feel the distance growing between them, a wall she was building with every race, every misstep, every setback. 

He tried to remind her of those lighter times, even when the racing got intense. On weekends, he’d linger in the garage with her, cracking jokes, trying to coax a laugh out of her, like they used to do after tough sessions back in Formula 2. But it felt different now. She had this look, as if there was a weight pressing on her that no amount of lightheartedness could lift. 

The night after her crash with Alonso, Yuki tried again, catching up to her outside the paddock as she was leaving. “Hey!” he called, jogging to catch up. “Thought maybe we could grab a bite together. There’s this place nearby that serves ridiculous ramen—reminds me of the spot we’d hit after races.”

She hesitated, her gaze distant, before letting out a sigh. “Yuki, I’m tired. I just want to go back to the hotel and review the data. It was a messy race, and I don’t think I have much appetite.”

Yuki’s shoulders dropped, but he shrugged, forcing a smile. “We could just hang out, then. No data. Just us. I mean… it’s been a while since we’ve really relaxed, you know?”

She gave him a weary smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I appreciate it, really. But I need to focus. I can’t afford to mess up again, not with everything they’re saying.”

He could hear the bitterness in her voice, the resentment barely hidden beneath. It killed him to see her like this—so hardened, so guarded. She was always the toughest of the rookies, fearless, but now it seemed like her own passion had turned against her, trapping her in a never-ending battle against herself. 

He tried again the next day, lingering by her side during their briefing, sending her a grin every chance he got, trying to bring back that easy dynamic they used to have. But it was like she was somewhere else, somewhere far away where his words couldn’t reach her. She’d nod along, respond, but always with that distracted air, her eyes flicking back to the screen, the telemetry, the data, anything but him.

By the time they were heading out after debrief, Yuki couldn’t hold back anymore. “Yn,” he said, his voice softer, catching her arm as she went to turn away. “I know you’re frustrated, I know it feels like everything’s on the line, but… this isn’t like you. You’re carrying everything on your shoulders alone. Let me be there, like we used to.”

For a moment, her expression softened, a glimpse of the Yn he remembered, the one who used to nudge him in the ribs and joke about who could get pole on the practice track. But it faded just as quickly, replaced by that same stony determination.

“I appreciate it, Yuki. But you don’t understand. It’s different for me.” She pulled her arm back gently, looking away. “Every mistake I make gives people more reasons to think I shouldn’t be here. Every crash, every missed point. Sympathy’s a knife in this sport, and I can’t afford to need anyone’s help. I just… I have to handle it.”

He let her words sink in, feeling the sting behind them, realizing that every race, every session was turning her into someone he barely recognized. But he understood, maybe better than she thought. Yuki knew that in F1, there were those who supported you, but there were also those who’d gladly let you fall, especially if you didn’t fit their mold.

“Maybe it’s different for you,” he said quietly, keeping his voice steady. “But you don’t have to do it alone. We’re teammates. We’re supposed to be here for each other. I’m… I’m supposed to be here for you.”

She looked up at him, and for a second, he thought he’d broken through. But she just shook her head, a faint, sad smile on her lips. “Thanks, Yuki. Really. But I need to be strong enough on my own. If I rely on anyone too much, they’ll use it against me. I have to prove myself, no matter what.”

Yuki watched as she turned away again, shoulders squared, that unyielding resolve back in her posture. He knew there was no convincing her, no getting her to see that it was okay to lean on someone every now and then, that it didn’t make her weak. But as she walked away, he felt the weight of her words settle on him, a sadness mingling with frustration. This wasn’t the Yn he knew—this was someone who felt like she had the world against her, like every race was a fight to justify her existence in F1.

Later that night, Yuki found himself with Pierre, staring at his untouched bowl of ramen, his mind churning. He’d always known Yn was strong, maybe even stronger than him in ways he didn’t fully understand. But it was painful to watch her shoulder that strength like a burden, pushing everyone else away, including him. 

He thought about what he could say next time, some way to convince her that she didn’t have to do this alone, that he wasn’t there out of sympathy, but out of respect and genuine friendship. But deep down, he knew that as long as she felt the world’s expectations pressing down on her, she’d keep her guard up. For now, all he could do was be there, waiting, hoping that one day she’d let him in, let him remind her that even in the ruthless world of F1, there was room for someone who’d stand by her side, win or lose.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Home Away From Home 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, jealousy, mentions of loss, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki, Peter Parker (tall!reader)

Summary: You’ve been friends with the Odinsons since childhood. After years of separation, you reunite on Midgard after the destruction of Asgard, but find yourself caught between your old and new lives. 

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“That was so cool when you threw me,” Peter nearly hops to keep up with you. He might be small but he is fast. He is big in spirit. “And then I hit that guy with the elbow drop. Just like Macho Man.” 

“Macho Man?” You repeat curiously. “He is a friend of yours?” 

“Ha, no,” he shakes his head. “He was a wrestler. Real famous.” 

“A wrestler? I wrestle too! In Asgard, we always do so after a big feast.” You explain. 

“Really? Like you have a ring?” He asks. 

“Ring?” 

“Yeah, like where would you wrestle?” 

“On the floor...” you squint at him. His hair is still tussled and he still wears his funny red suit. 

“Mm,” he hums and nods. “You wrestled Thor?" 

“Oh, many times but he is a difficult adversary.” 

“What about Loki?” He wonders. 

“Once or twice, but only when he imbibed overly much. He thinks it’s unseemly,” you say. “Though I think it is because he doesn’t like to lose.” 

“Probably,” Peter snorts. “Would you wrestle me?” 

It’s your turn to laugh, “that’s very amusing to think of but I think we are outmatched.” 

“I can hold my own. You’ve seen me fight,” he argues. 

“Yes, I have, which is why I am deferring,” you say. “I’m afraid I’m known for my brute strength rather than my speed. I couldn’t keep up with you, dor-dígull.” 

“Hm, okay, well, I guess you’ve never seen Midgardian wrestling, have you?” He asks. 

“No, I haven’t.” 

“Ooh, I can show you my favourite matches,” he chimes excitedly. “I bet they're way more flashy than your Asgardian ones.” 

“Show me?” 

“Yeah, I have the videos. You know, we have wrestling shows,” he explains. 

“Ah, yes, the living pictures. I want to see it.” You agree. 

“Awesome. How about tonight? I’ll get us snacks.” He offers. 

You stop and face him. The rest of the team goes about their business without notice. You’re happy that they don’t seem to mind you. Especially since Thor couldn’t be there. Peter helped you feel a little less out of place. 

“Tonight,” you agree with a coy look.  

You don’t know much about Midgardians but you’ve been learning and you think you know what he’s asking. You’re not appalled at the idea. You’re even a bit flattered. He might not be built like an Asgardian but he is formidable nonetheless. 

“I’ll text you,” he grins. 

“And I will try to respond to your text,” you affirm. 

“Awesome!” He exclaims then calms himself, smoothing his hair. “You know, it’ll, uh, be fun.” 

“I’m certain it will,” you nod. “I should go report back to my people.” 

“Tell Thor I said hi? Oh, and Loki too,” he says. 

“Certainly,” you agree. You leave him as he runs after the blond-haired Captain and the man with the dark mop on his head and the black metal arm.  

You can’t deny your own excitement. Since Asgard turned to cinder and you became a refugee, since even before that, you’ve not had much opportunity to indulge in anything careless. You could do with a release. 

You weave your way through the tower. It hasn’t lost its shine. Everything is sleek and refined in that Midgardian fashion. And the people in their straight-cut clothing and tall shoes are amusing. You might go and find some of those for yourself. 

As you come into the lobby, a green flicker limns the edge of your vision.

You sigh, “Loki, where’ve you been?” You ask. 

“I assure you I've been doing more important things than playing games with Midgardian pretenders,” Loki drones. 

“We did good, Loki. We helped people in a big sandy place called Ar-i-zon-a,” you pronounce it deliberately. “You needn’t be bitter.” 

“I’m not bitter. You always were so presumptuous. You act as if you know me to the bone.” 

“I admit, Loki, I don’t know you as well as I once did,” you shrug as you push through the glass doors. “I don’t think anyone does, but if you gave anyone a chance...” You suggest. “Have you talked to any of the people? The women here are rather attractive.” 

“Women?” He spits. “I will not be languishing in the arms of a mortal.” 

“Or the men? It might do you well. To release the levee,” you nudge him with your elbow. 

“I don’t need—quiet. You shouldn’t speak of such things to a prince,” he hisses. 

“No, not anymore?” You wonder. “As right as ever, my prince, I do not know you as I once did. You should find one of those things... a hobby?” 

“I read,” he sniffs. “But their literature is so simplistic.” 

“Mm, they have sport. Oh, the little spider told me they have wrestling. They have shows you could watch. Or you could join in?” 

“These flimsy men would break,” he insists. 

“There are others here. In New Asgard. You could ask them.” 

“I don’t want to wrestle. It is a drunkard’s sport.” 

“Hm, yes, you were never much on it. Well, they have living pictures,” you point to one of the big signs on the side of the building. “You like theatre.” 

He huffs again. His defiance is irritating. As if anything you say will be wrong. He does that often to his brother. Well, you are not Thor and you will not let him spoil your day. 

“I will let you figure it out upon your own, then, for surely I know not of what I speak,” you say. “I hope that do find something to keep busy tonight.” 

“Tonight? You speak as if you are going somewhere? I thought we could find some activity. You seem more acquainted with this cursed place than I.” He says. 

“I am occupied. If you do not like the living pictures, they have stages, you could get a ticket,” you suggest. “Or perhaps you could ask your brother.” 

“I’d rather a crow pluck my eyes out.” He sneers. 

I’d rather one did too, you think to yourself. You stop and face him. You show your hands helplessly. 

“Tomorrow, prince. When I can avail myself to you, we will go around the city. There is a market I wish to peruse.” 

He stares at you dully, “fine. I suppose I can wait.” 

“You never struggled to amuse yourself,” you retort. “I’ve got to get going.” 

“You do? Where?” He asks. 

“I am no longer a ward of the crown,” you say. “I needn’t say.” 

“But I am asking,” he growls. 

You laugh, “you have not changed so much as you think.” 

You grin and spin away, strutting down the sidewalk. His sigh evaporates into another green hue at your back. You’ll deal with him tomorrow, once you’ve dislodged the thorn he’s poked into your side. 

[thinkingboute]

masks | harry styles x model!oc

summary: Carolina Saraiva, 20 year old supermodel, has fallen into the dark. looking into the mirror, she hardly recognizes herself. At Vanity Fair's new masquerade ball, she embarrasses herself in front of one of the most famous men of 2014---Harry Styles. Chaos ensues. For many, many years.

part 2 here! and part 3!

warnings: mentions of drugs, disordered eating, vomit, anxiety, claustrophobia, (eventually sexual content but be patient friends)

a/n: I have been writing fics for myself for ages and I had an idea for a little HS series the other night and felt the need to share. Wrote this in one go and did no editing. I never read OC fics. Why am I writing an OC fic?

word count: about 1.5k

Every camera flash seemed brighter and more obnoxious than the last. Lina thought she’d have been used to the visual assault, but she was wrong. 

She’d been wrong a lot lately. 

Vanity Fair’s first ever masquerade ball drummed up quite the ruckus in the few months since it was announced. Of course, her management was thrilled when she received an invitation. At just 20 years old, Carolina Saraiva was a modeling sensation. At 18, she opened the Victoria’s Secret show, walked for Dior and Prada, and graced the cover of British Vogue---soon to be American Vogue, if her team had anything to say about it. She blew up so quickly, it was as if she spawned into superstardom in a mere moment. 

“The next Gisele,” her mother said wistfully after seeing her Vogue cover. “I have never been happier.”

Lina, however, had certainly been happier. In fact, she had never been further from happy. Joy was a limited resource in the modeling world; one that had been used up long before she took her first headshots. All that remained was coke, tequila, and passing out in the bathtub. Not that she partook in all those things exactly.

Only two. 

She was sure the cameras would catch her exhaustion, blinding light illuminating her dark circles, hallowed cheeks, and heavy lids.

Is Carolina Saraiva Bringing Back Cocaine Couture?

Model Down: Fresh Face Carolina Saraiva Faceplants on the Way into Vanity Fair’s Latest Party

Coke-alina: Brazilian Bombshell is Strung Out at High Profile Event

She was sure the tabloids would have their think pieces on the health of supermodels and their drug usage by sunrise. She didn’t bother with the coke rumors anymore. It’s not like there wasn’t validity to them, really. Lina wasn’t doing coke, but she was one of the few. 

“To your left, Carolina,” one photographer called out, stirring from her daydream. Lina whipped her head around, hair cascading down her back, and shot the man a wide, dimpled smile. More cheers erupted. For once, Lina was glad for them; they confirmed to her that her mask---the metaphorical one---had yet to slip on the outside. The real one, large and feathered, actually did seem to be sliding down her nose. She charmingly pushed it back up, eliciting laughs from the eager-to-please paps swarming her. 

A strong hand made its way to her mid-back: Darren, her security. She leaned back into it, grateful for the support. He took her small handbag from her without even a glance. She smiled her first genuine smile in a long time. She was prone to losing every bag she carried. With a half-hearted wave behind her, she made her way through the large, iron wrought doors. 

The opulence of celebrity events still floored her, even years into her career. There was a time, so distant in her memory, when she would have slashed, bitten, and crawled through fire to be in this position. Now, she would give anything to leave. 

Where else would she go, then? There were times before that she missed the tranquility of her family’s ranch in Florida, or the warm mornings in their family home in Sao Paulo. 

These days, Lina couldn’t think of anywhere she wanted to be. 

Darren’s hand dropped from her back, causing her to stumble at the loss of support. She surveyed the scene, eager to find a back door or balcony for fresh air. That was one thing New York lacked. 

Instead, her eyes caught a tall figure, adorned in pale pinks and gold jewels, with a dress whose hoop must’ve added at least two feet to her radius. 

Behind that bejeweled mask, the woman’s eyes caught Linas. 

“Oh, my goodness, you lady of the night!” Gigi exclaimed, shuffling as fast as she could through the crowd to grab Lina’s hands. They both looked down to examine her dress. The blackish blue, corseted, tulle ballgown was vintage and, for once, Lina couldn’t remember the designer. The silhouette was historical, remanent of Victorian style pieces. Alongside the dramatic, feathered mask, she was reminiscent of a ghost. She laughed to herself. How fitting.

Mustering up her most genuine smile, she said, “You look like a princess!” Gigi smiled at that. Lina really meant it. Gigi was always happy, it seemed. She was more human than any other girl she’d met in the industry. 

They looked around the room, startled as the chandeliers shut off dramatically. A sort of eerie light filled the room from some other source. It was as if there was a nightclub in the 1800s. 

“It feels like I left 2014 the moment I got here,” Gigi whispered. Lina was inclined to whisper, too, with the atmosphere changing so quickly.

Before she got the chance, deafening bass filled the room, shaking the floor. Gigi waved in apology as she was pulled by faceless hand back into the crowd. Lina could have thrown up right there. Her eyes set on the bar, she pushed her way through the crowd. 

Sweat seemed to fog up the room, humidity surely ruining her freshly blown out hair. Each time she found a pathway through the gyrating bodies, an arm or leg or ass threw itself in her way. The room that seemed endless when she first walked in was no larger than a corridor now. Worse, a coffin. She was panting. Another woman stepped back into her path. Lina threw her hands out towards her, shoving her back into her dance partner who was clearly on another planet. She heard a distant ‘augh’ but could not find it within herself to care. She was having a hard time finding anything within herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate something. 

The bar came into view, or really, the crowd the engulfed the bar came into view. She shoved into two men who leaned casually on the counter. A drink appeared in front of her, and she was inclined to take it. 

Turning around to lean her back against the cold marble, Lina closed her eyes. She downed the drink and handed her empty glass to one of the men standing beside her, who slid his hand along her lower back. Saliva filled her mouth. Slapping a hand over pursed lips, she ran towards what looked like a bathroom.

She tried to slam the door open, but barely had the strength to push it open. Her steps were uneven. Her head was in the toilet bowl before she even realized she found a stall. 

After retching for what felt like an hour, Lina attempted to stand, but her ankles gave out under her. Yelling out in frustration, she slapped her hands on the toilet bowl for leverage. 

Hands washed, she leaned on the cool countertop, looking up at herself in the mirror.

Hair frizzed on top, lip gloss everywhere but her lips, darkness beneath her cheekbones that she knew was not from her hour-long stint in the makeup chair---Lina looked in to her eyes, hidden behind the mask, and cried. 

The door shot open behind her, followed by a long sigh, followed again by a yelp. 

Lina’s head shot back. There was a man behind her. Because she was in the men’s bathroom. She was sure she would vomit into the sink.

“Oh---oh my god. I’m so sorry, I could’ve sworn this was the men’s toilet, Niall that absolute fucking bastard.”

Lina’s head whipped back just before bile filled her mouth. 

“Holy shit, are you alright?”

Lina took a deep breath. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” She had never sounded less fine in her goddamn life. “Now, if you’ll excuse me…” her hand swiped around the counter for a handbag that wasn’t there. 

Fucking Darren. 

“No, no, why don’t I go, yeah?” the man said, coughing to cover his laugh. “I think you might need…to be here more than me.”

“Nope, nope, I’ll be going,” Lina whined. 

“Actually, why don’t I just grab someone for you. You come here with anyone?”

Lina could not remember Darren’s name at the moment. 

“How much have you had to drink? Or have you…done something else?”

“Are you asking me if I’ve done coke tonight, Harry Styles?”

Lina turned to look at him fully. He wore an all-black suit with satin flower details along the lapels. His mask was simple, matching the detailing of his jacket. Behind it, green eyes above pink-flushed cheeks looked her up and down, stepping back as if to avoid another onslaught of vomit. 

“No. I mean, yeah, sure, if you have, but I don’t mean to assume anyth---”

“No. I have not. Why does everyone think I do coke?”

Harry looked at her once again. 

“I mean---”

“I am not typically puking in men’s restrooms.”

A laugh. “Never said you were, Carolina.”

Oh. 

“You know my name.”

“Hard not to. Can’t escape your face if I fucking tried.”

“You want to escape my face?”

“Never said that either, darling.”

Oh.

“I think maybe I should go.”

Harry’s teasing smile became a grimace of concern. “At least let me get you a cab.”

Lina shook her head, the room shaking with it. “No, no, if you leave, they won’t let you back in.”

“I’m Harry Styles. Sure, they will."

“How presumptuous.”

A shrug. “Just saying.”

Lina swipes, once again, for the handbag that isn’t there. Harry’s eyes widen slightly. “Go find whatever bastard you were moaning about earlier. I’ll be fine.”

“Come on---” But Lina had already pushed passed him. Back into the sea of people. Back into that coffin of a room. 

a/n: please let me know if you want to see more of this!! I will write it anyway but I'm curious lol

part 2 here!!

[bio1]

Here a treat for Halloween, my complete fanfic in one post. Hope you enjoy this Earthspark horror themed story and thanks to @billy-jay-kisses-robots for co-writing and spell checking.

Let use begin

Act 1

Despite how close to midnight it was, the sound of footsteps could still be heard throughout the dugout. A combination of caffeine and late night movie watching was keeping Twitch Malto wide awake, while the rest of her terran siblings dozed off peacefully. In her defense, if Robbie didn’t want her drinking his energy drinks, he should have kept them hidden better. And the password to her father’s Netflix account should have been more secure than ‘bumblebee123’.

Though the entirety of the terrans had all stayed up to binge as many horror movies as they could think of (with the exception of Jawbreaker, who had his eyes closed the entire time out of fear), only Twitch was still awake. As she paced nervously up and down the dugout, she looked over her sleeping siblings one by one. Thrash was in his alt mode, somehow completely upside down. His engine was repeatedly reving up and stalling in a cycle, as if he was snoring. Jawbreaker was laying facedown on the floor, a comically small teddy bear perched carefully on top of his head. Hashtag, who had tried staying up later herself by watching youtube, had eventually fallen asleep as well, her phone autoplaying what sounded like Russian dashcam crash footage. And Nightshade… Hm, actually, she didn’t see Nightshade anywhere. Not that she was really paying attention, however. Her mind was too busy replaying everything she had seen earlier in the night over and over.

The kids had essentially gone to the horror section on Netflix and watched as many movies as they could before they got tired. From goofier horror comedies like "Critters" to things genuinely terrifying thrillers like "Halloween", and some striking and odd balance of the two like "Scream". What really got to her, however, was John Carpenter's "The Thing", and not just because of what happened to those poor sled dogs. That awful, morphing monster, the way it ripped the research team apart, really stuck with her. Possibly because it reminded her of a few of Mandroid’s own creations she had to fight before, especially that bear mutant from mother’s day.

She was so caught up in her own head that she didn’t even notice Fluffy Ears right in front of her. Twitch ended up tripping right over the family’s pet cow, who decided it would be a good idea to sleep in the middle of the dugout’s hallway. She managed to catch herself mid fall by switching into her alt mode just before hitting the ground. The sleepy calf roused her head, looked at the little red drone hovering directly in front of her, gave her a quick lick, and fell back asleep. The whole ordeal was quiet enough not to wake anyone else, but it did catch the attention of Nightshade, who poked their head out from around a corner near their lab.

“Oh, Twitch, I didn’t know you were still up.” They smiled. “Is everything alright? You look nervous.”

“How can you tell that if I’m in my alt mode?”

“Well, you’re shaking. Pretty violently.”

She hadn’t even realized that, but they were right. She even accidentally bumped into Fluffy Ears pretty hard. Startled, Twitch switched back into her normal mode and tried profusely apologizing to the calf. Fluffy Ears didn’t seem to mind, and got up from her spot to start aimlessly wandering around the dugout.

“I’m, uh, I’m fine, Nightshade. What are you doing over there, anyway?” Twitch attempted to change the subject, making her way over to Nightshade’s lab. At the very least, this might be a fun distraction. Nightshade’s bright green optics lit up at this, clearly excited to show someone their work.

"I am so glad you asked." They tugged on their sibling's arm and pulled them into their lab. On a table in the center was a large, ominous looking metal contraption.

"Wait, isn't that-" Twitch began, before getting cut off.

"The reverse beartrap from Saw, yes!" Nightshade beamed, proudly holding it up. "The movies we watched tonight weren't particularly the type I enjoy, but I did appreciate some of the creative inventions a few of them displayed." They looked over to see Twitch with a completely horrified expression on her face. "Oh, are you wondering if it works? I am too. This is just a prototype I whipped up based on how it was explained in the film. I was actually just about to test it-" They reached under the table and pulled out a full pumpkin. Nightshade extended their arms and eagerly gestured for Twitch to take the gourd. "Since you're up, would you like to do the honors?"

"... Actually, I was wondering why you built a torture device in the first place." She finally responded, nervously looking it over. "I mean, you've built some crazy stuff in the past, but this is, uh, kind of disturbing, Nightshade."

Nightshade looked somewhat disappointed at this, shaking their head a bit. "You've got the wrong idea! A torture device implies that the victim is meant to survive."

Nightshade set the trap down and activated it themselves. Within seconds, it ripped the pumpkin open, its guts splattering messily onto the floor.

"A person wouldn't have survived that." They added, clearly happy the machine worked as intended.

Twitch flinched and stood back, her eyes growing to the size of dinner plates.

"Twitch?" Nightshade asked, concerned. "What is-oh. I get it. Don't worry, it was never my intention to use this on any living being. I just like challenging myself, and building this seemed like it would be an interesting experiment." They began scooping the guts off the concrete floor. "The thought of this device ever being used for its original purpose… that's something I wouldn't even have wished for on Mandroid." They muse. Noticing their sister was still silent, Nightshade approached her, a worried look forming on their features.

"Are you sure you're alright? You didn't think I was really going to-" Twitch interrupted them.

"No! Oh, no, I know you wouldn't, Shady. I'm just kind of on edge tonight, I guess. Probably shouldn't have stolen Robbie's energy drinks." She attempted to brush off their concern as convincingly as she could.

"You probably shouldn't have! Caffeine can worsen the hyperactive aspects of ADHD after all." They agreed, patting her on the shoulder.

"...You think I have ADHD?"

Before Nightshade could respond, a massive crunch boomed out from above them.

"What was that!?" Twitch flew out in search of the cacophony. Nightshade, trying their best to keep up with her, tiptoed as softly as they could to prevent waking the others. They found Twitch looking through the camera screens in the main room of the dugout. There was nothing unusual on live feed, just a few autumn leaves blowing past the cameras Nightshade has placed around the ranch.

"Should we-" Nightshade began, getting cut off again.

"Check it out? Yes, obviously!" She seemed a little too excited to see what was out there. Perhaps she was just looking for an excuse to feel useful, or burn off some of her energy.

Without a second of hesitation, she switched to her alt mode and flew outside, wildly darting around the sky above the dugout. Twitch changed back into bot mode as she landed on the barn's roof. With the moonlight nearly hidden behind a thick layer of clouds, it was almost pitch black outside. Nightshade caught up with their energetic sister, surprised to see her standing still as a statue.

"Twitch! There is nothing out here but the nocturnal wildlife. Perhaps it was a raccoon who made that sound." Nightshade reasoned.

Twitch responded in a shaky tone. "Nightshade, what kind of raccoon could make a noise that loud?"

"...One with rabies?"

"Wait! Listen for a moment." She hushed, falling silent again.

Nightshade listened for something out there to satisfy their sister's paranoia. "I hear nothing Twitch."

"Exactly, Nightshade! There's nothing! No crickets chirping, none of the cows are making any sound, there aren't even moths near the lights!" She exclaimed frantically.

"Oh goodness, you're right. Now that is odd. The only time it's ever perfectly quiet outside is when there is something…dangerous around."

Nightshade glared in front of them, attempting to make out the source of the eerie calmness.

"That tree… wasn't there before." They noted, their voice shaky as they pointed ahead.

Twitch turned to see what her sibling was referring to. In the middle of the forest, several hundred meters away from the barn, a massively tall, crooked tree stood high above the rest. It only had three twisted branches, growing out of its spindly stalk in such a way to vaguely resemble a humanoid figure with bending limbs. One branch in the middle rounded out at the end to form the "head" of this horrific plant.

"Ok, so that certainly wasn't a raccoon then." Nightshade commented. Their sister began switching into her alt mode, before the younger green bot grabbed hold of her. "Twitch, wait! Going out to investigate… whatever that is right away probably isn't a good idea. We should at least think this through first."

Twitch struggled in their grip for a second before shaking herself off, but didn't immediately fly out like she wanted to. "What's the hold up? You seriously want to just head in and call it a night?" She snapped at them.

"No, of course not. I just think we shouldn't do it alone." They added, remaining calm.

"And give that tree-thing a chance to move in first? I don't think so." Twitch shifted and took off into the sky. Reluctantly, Nightshade changed into their alt mode as well, flying directly in front of her to block her path.

"Twitch! What's gotten into you?" They asked frantically. Thankfully for them, Twitch did stop in her tracks. "You clearly aren't doing well tonight. Whatever's got you troubled, I'm here for you, and so is the rest of the family."

"We obviously have bigger issues than my anxiety to deal with right now!" She shouted. "Things like… that are just more proof I haven't been doing enough to keep us safe."

"Is that what this is about? Twitch, this isn't your fault-" she cut them off.

"Well it'll be both of our faults if that tree monster gets its dirty roots on the others because we were busy screwing around here!"

Nightshade wasn't sure how to respond. Twitch’s panicked tone and expression made it clear how stressed and out of it she was. But how were they supposed to comfort her? This entire situation was making it hard for even them to think, especially with that giant tree staring at them-

Wait, the tree was staring at them?

Nightshade slowly turned their head to get a better look, and to their horror, the tall head of the ominous tree had sprouted a pair of huge, glowing eyes.

“We need to go back inside, now!” They grabbed Twitch's arm with their talons, dragging their sister behind them. Almost involuntarily, the younger mech let out an owlish screech as they dived back into the dugout from the entrance in the barn's roof.

Switching back into their alt mode, Nightshade rushed over to the console displaying the security cameras’ feeds. They displayed nothing but static, oddly enough. Nightshade, frustrated and confused, frantically tried fixing the console, but nothing seemed to be working.

After a few moments, Twitch quietly approached her sibling, meekly tapping them on the shoulder. “Shady, I need to tell you something…”

“I'm not mad at you, Twitch. Just, I need to focus right now-”

“That's not what an owl sounds like.” She continued.

Nightshade stopped what they were working on and turned to face her. “...I'm sorry?”

“I've been meaning to say this ever since you got your alt mode, but that owl screech you do isn't actually what owls sound like. The noise you make is more like an eagle or a hawk.”

Nightshade just sort of stared at her, not sure what to say.

“Oh.” Was all they could think of as a response.

“Wait, why would you bring that up now?”

“I'm sorry! I'm scared! I can't even really think straight, it feels like my brain is shutting down…” She grabbed onto her head and shook it, as if trying to forcefully wake herself up.

Nightshade tried to go back to fixing the camera system, but found that their own mind felt somewhat fuzzy as well. They've repaired similar errors on this exact console plenty of times before. Yet for some reason, the solution just wasn't coming to them now.

“It had eyes, didn't it? That's what those were, in the tree, I mean. Huge eyes.” Twitch finally spoke, her usually energetic voice noticeably slowed. “Do you think… that was something Ghost made?”

“I can't imagine what use they would have with a giant, monstrous tree.” Nightshade answered, putting down the wires they were fiddling with. “We should alert the others.”

“...Right.” their sister responded. She glided over to the nearest Malto sibling, that being Hashtag. The large purple bot was still peacefully dozing off with her phone now playing, of all things, Wendigoon’s conspiracy theory iceberg. As if this whole situation wasn't ominous enough.

Twitch gently nudged the larger Terran’s shoulder. “Hashtag? Get up, something happened.”

No response. She was completely out of it.

“H-hashtag?” Twitch shook her sister a little more forcefully now.

She still didn't stir.

“HASHTAG! WAKE UP!” Twitch yelled as loudly as possible, but this didn't do much besides startle the already well-awake Nightshade.

The smaller red bot, frustrated at this point, switched into her alt mode and fired a laser several inches from her sleeping sister. This also accomplished nothing.

“Twitch! What on earth are you doing?” Nightshade called out frantically.

“I wasn't going to hit her! I… I couldn't think of anything else, I thought that would work.” She admitted, her voice shaky.

Twitch flew over to Thrash and Jawbreaker, shouting their names and firing controlled lasers inches from their bodies in a reckless attempt to wake them. The brothers were similarly out cold, however, and nothing she did had any effect on them.

“You need to stop that! If you miss and hit them…” Nightshade began, stopping themselves off as they watched the red drone revert to her bot mode, a defeated and exhausted expression washing over her face. Her large yellow optics seemed to almost wobble in place, a streaking, cold light emanating from them. Nightshade got the impression that if Cybertronians were physically capable of shedding tears, she'd be sobbing right now.

“What's going on, Shady?” She barely managed to speak, nearly choking on every word.

Seeing their usually cheerful, energic sister in such a miserable state was utterly heartbreaking for Nightshade. It wasn't her fault, but Twitch seemed to truly believe whatever misfortune her family had fallen upon somehow could have been prevented by her.

Nightshade, not being the best at emotional support, tried to go for a more practical way of comforting her. “They… they aren't dead.” The younger Terran informed her. Walking over to Jawbreaker, Nightshade gently pried his eyelids apart to reveal intact, glowing optics. They weren't responding to any stimuli, but the fact that they were on was proof that the bots were in some kind of comatose state.

“How did you…” Twitch started speaking, but seemingly lost the strength to continue partway through her question.

“How did I know?” Nightshade presumptively finished for her. “I've installed vital trackers in all of us. If any of us were to go offline, I would get an alert.” They informed her.

“Oh, that's good. Thank you.” She seemed a little relieved, before realizing the full consequences of what her sibling just admitted. “Wait, I don't remember… when did you install those?”

“That's not really something we need to worry about now…” Nightshade mumbled, not expecting her to question their actions.

“...Nightshade, how many… things have you added to us?” She lowered her gaze a bit, inquisitively. Before questioning them further, her optics lit up, having remembered something.

“I just realized, we never saw Fluffy Ears!” She blurted out frantically. Twitch began zooming around the dugout in her alt mode, looking for the baby cow.

Nightshade gave a sigh of relief that her line of questioning was over for now, and joined her in the search.

“Where was she last?” They called out, looking around their lab while Twitch scanned the dugout’s hall.

“I… I don't know, she just sort of wandered off-Oh!” Twitch flew over to a far corner of the room.

“I found her! What are you doing over here, silly cow…” Twitch nudged the calf, who seemed to be fast asleep, resting her head on her flank. Fluffy Ears didn't stir, however.

“...Fluffy Ears?” Twitch was significantly more worried as she spoke this time, her voice getting louder. The calf didn't respond.

Nightshade looked over their sister's shoulders, noting that, thankfully, the little cow was still breathing.

“That's odd, very odd… whatever happened to our siblings seems to be affecting her as well.” Nightshade leaned down and gently stroked Fluffy Ears head, mostly in an attempt to steady themselves down. This entire situation wasn't making any sense, and that scared them. They needed to remain calm, however, if only to reassure Twitch.

The smaller bot looked to her sibling for answers.

“...Do you think it's gotten to everyone in the house?”

“Are you referring to whatever has put everyone here to sleep?” Nightshade attempted to clarify.

“Yeah, I mean, if it got to Fluffy Ears… Mom, Dad, Robbie, and Mo are also organic.”

“That's a good point, actually.” Nightshade pondered. They didn't even think of that. “Are we dealing with some kind of virus that affects both organics and bots? Does such a thing even exist?”

“Forget virus, it's obviously coming from that messed up tree outside.”

“The tree? That can't be right. How could it even…” Nightshade was at a complete loss.

“Seriously, Nightshade? This thing shows up, and suddenly, all of our family is out cold. That can't be a coincidence.” She was exasperated.

“I agree it's strange, but there shouldn't be any way a plant could incapacitate both organics and Cybertronians by just… I don't even know…” Their head was starting to throb, like a migraine. Trying to think critically was physically hurting them.

The two siblings just stood there, feeling their own bodies growing weaker with every passing second. It was a sensation similar to being sedated. A feeling they probably would have given into, had Twitch not noticed a strange black tendril poking out of a nearby vent.

“Is that a rat?” Twitch asked groggily. Wouldn't be the first time a rat got into the dugout. But said rats usually weren't so long. And slithering…

“Nightshade! Get down!” Twitch jumped and pushed her sibling down to the ground, just before a huge tendril swung at their head. The tendril instead hit the monitors Nightshade had attempted to fix. A single whack caused not only all the monitors to shatter, but the concrete wall behind them to violently crack.

Nightshade's optics widened with horror. There was no question about it. If that tendril had hit them instead, their head would have been knocked clean off.

The tendril dove for the pair of them, seeming to know exactly where they were despite not having eyes. They both moved to opposite sides, barely avoiding getting stabbed. As it pulled out of the small hole it burrowed into the floor, the tendril opened up for a second, briefly revealing a crimson reptilian eye that scanned the room before closing again.

Nightshade, in an effort to get out of the way, bumped into the table they had placed the reverse bear trap onto earlier. It fell into their lap with a clattering thud. An idea came to them, and they armed the trap to go off again.

“Twitch, take this and have it dive for you again! When it gets close, have it aim for the trap! I think it only keeps its eyes open for a few seconds at a time!”

“Twitch, take this and have it dive for you again! When it gets close, have it aim for the trap! I think it only keeps its eyes open for a few seconds at a time!”

Twitch, being the faster of the two even in her groggy state, agreed with a nod and flew past the tendril, the trap in her grasp. It took the bait and launched itself directly towards her, where it got the last several feet of its body caught in the trap’s mechanisms.

The tendril squirmed and rattled as the reverse beartrap’s countdown ticked. After a few agonizingly long seconds, it finally went off. Just as it had with the pumpkin earlier in the night, it absolutely ripped its prey apart with ease. Shards of metal and some kind of fleshy material flew to all corners of the dugout.

The worst part wasn't the sight of the impact, however, it was the dreadful noise it made. Whatever the tendril was attached to screamed in pain as its appendage was destroyed. It had a cry like a nuclear siren, low, loud, and ear-piercing. It felt like something you were never meant to hear, and simply perceiving was a sign that you as the listener were at death’s door.

What remained of the tendril receded back through the vents, leaking a runny black liquid with an odd, iridescent shimmer. A few of the larger chunks that had been ripped open were still slightly animate, curling where they lay like a dying spider.

Nightshade cautiously approached what appeared to be the eye of the tendril, or atleast what was left of it.

It was a translucent, jelly-like red substance with an awful black slit for a pupil that had sort of melted into the iris due to its injury. Said pupil shuddered in place one last time as Nightshade got closer, almost as if it could still perceive the bot somehow.

“Nightshade! Are you alright right!?” Twitch said, sounding out of breath despite not actually having lungs.

“Yes, I'm just a bit scratched up. It's nothing but a bit of polish won't get out.”

Without saying anything else, Nightshade grabbed and chugged down one of the energy drinks that their sister left out. “I know I said earlier that us drinking these was probably a bad idea, but I think they might help.” Their sister nervously fiddled with the can’s lid before managing to get it open for herself.

Nightshade scooped up what's left of the otherworldly tendril and brought it back to their lab.

Pausing to consider their next move, Nightshade eventually settled on attaching the still pulsating fleshy bits to a battery hooked up to a light bulb. After a few seconds, the light dimmed before going out completely. The battery was instantly dead.

“It appears you were right after all. Whatever this thing is, it emits some kind of field that drains energy from anything it's near.” Nightshade concluded.

“So that's what makes us feel so exhausted?” Twitch looked very concerned, her optics darting between Nightshade and her unconscious siblings.

“More than likely, yes. And you might have already guessed this, but I assume it's also keeping all our organic family members asleep. My current theory is that this is a hunting tactic.”

Twitch knew immediately what they were getting at. “Sleeping prey can't fight back.”

“Exactly.” Nightshade confirmed. “The fact that we were previously awake is most likely the only reason why we aren't currently unconscious.”

An uneasy silence filled the dugout. The siblings stood in place, the air around them cold and heavy with tension. Without saying a word, both of them knew what the other was thinking: that monster would be back any moment, and they couldn't keep up the energy to fight it back for long. It was a terrible calm before the storm, a feeling reminiscent of succumbing to hypothermia. An overwhelming, intoxicating urge to close your eyes and drift into a sleep you were well aware you'd never wake up from.

And at this moment, every light in the dugout switched off.

Act 2

The Terran siblings' optics were the only source of light in the now otherwise pitch black dugout. After the dreadful clicking of the lights switching off, the room was now eerily quiet once again.

“We didn't kill it.” Nightshade finally broke the silence, stating the obvious.

“No, you didn't.”

A voice replied, taunting the young bot. Well, perhaps calling it a voice would be too generous. Whatever responded spoke in a manner similar to rusted nails scratching at granite. Its pitch and tone managed to fluctuate in a manner that just barely could be recognizable as words. It was a sound that shouldn't be possible, as if scrap metal could somehow speak. It went beyond uncanny. Hearing something that otherworldly felt downright violating.

“What clever children you are, deducing my traits so quickly.

Most don't last long enough to find that out.”

Whatever monitors still remained attached flickered on, although they broadcasted nothing but static. When their adversary spoke again, the static shifted in time with its voice.

“My, such a colorful collection. So bright and shiny, sturdy with youthful vigor. Small you might be, but your remains will a part of something far bigger than you could ever dream.”

Twitch, with all her remaining energy, was not having any of this cryptic nonsense. She stormed up to the monitors and put her face meter inches from the screen in a confrontational manner.

“Get away from my family, NOW!” She boomed, slamming her foot onto the concrete floor.

The dying power on the monitor only showed one thing, the white enormous eye of their torturer.

“Oh my child, it's far too late for that.”

Twitch stepped back, trying her absolute best now to show how terrified she truly was. Too late for what? What was this thing implying?

“You're bluffing! You haven't gotten to them yet!” Nightshade answered back for her. “Now how about you save us all time and tell us what you want!”

Twitch wasn't sure what her sibling was getting at. Did they want to give into this thing's demands? And how could they know that their family hadn't been harmed yet?

“If you're already awake, I thought we might as well have a little fun.”

It was pretty obvious the creature was trying to be creepy, but neither of them knew whether or not it fully understood the context of what it just implied.

The dugout was completely silent and nearly pitch black, the abyss around them only just illuminated from both of the bots’ glowing optics.

“Nightshade! What do we do?! Our family is out there with that… that thing! I don't even know which way the exit is anymore, it's too dark…”

“There’s no reason for alarm, the dugout has a backup generator in the barn.” Nightshade tried their absolute best to remain calm for her, despite the gravity of the situation weighing on their mind as well.

“I'll go check on everyone in the house. In the meanwhile, you can start up the generator.”

“Wait, shouldn't that be the other way around? I can actually fit in the house, and you would know how the generator works.”

“Because I can grab everyone in one trip. It would take too long for you to back and forth. Plus, turning it on is rather simple.”

“Nightshade, I've seen the things you make, and none of them are simple.”

“It's literally just a red button labeled ‘generator’.”

“Nevermind, I should be able to handle that.”

Both of the bots carefully exited the dugout. With neither spotting the monster, Nightshade and Twitch split up, their goals both in sight.

Twitch approached the generator, optics darting around herself in paranoia.

“It's okay, Twitch. Just a few more steps.” The red bot assured herself, voice still shaky.

She stood in front of the machine, just barely out of arms’ reach. A chill ran down her metallic spine. Thoughts of what occurred earlier in the night ran through her mind. She kept imagining that if she pushed the button, something would come to remove her head from her shoulders.

“Twitch! HURRY!”

The loud voice booming from the doorway startled the poor bot. It was Nightshade, already back with their human family in tow. They were peacefully sleeping, blissfully unaware of the danger around them. Nightshade dashed into the bunker, leaving Twitch to finish her task.

With a deep sigh, she pushed the red button, the lights around her flickering on. Twitch turned back to join their sibling before stopping dead in her tracks. Something was pushing itself through a gap in the barn wall. A black, pulsating mass with gray armor grew larger as more of its amorphous form forced its way into the room. Five huge tendrils sprouted from a central metal lump. It almost looked like…

“A hand.” She breathed, the terrifying realization overcoming her.

A monsterous hand, almost bigger than her entire body.

She drew out her swords as the hand flexed its grotesque fingers.

The monster, noticing her presence, immediately lunged at her. She barely had enough time to dodge or before the gnarled fingers could ensnare her. The hand instead grabbed hold of a solid wooden support beam directly behind her. Smaller tendrils unwind themselves from the fingers joints, constricting the beam completely until the pressure caused it to cave in. An entire, solid cylinder of wood, crushed by a single movement into dust. The hand, realizing it has missed it's intended target, reared around with gelatinous eyes protruding from its finger joints, searching for Twitch.

“Hold still.”

“How about no!” She yelled before jabbing her blade into its wrist. The palm of the hand writhed in pain, fingers bending backwards as it struggled to pull the foreign object out. The wrist was almost jammed like a metal rod between two gears.

Twitch grabbed the handle of the embedded sword and twisted it clockwise, separating the hand from its wrist. A spray of oily fluid landed on her optics, muddling her vision. The hand writhed in pain for a moment, finally curling up on itself.

A distant sound of pain could be heard, but Twitch felt like she had no time to celebrate as she went to join her family. The young bot slammed the vault door shut as soon as she made it to the bunker, not wanting to take any more chances. Nightshade has laid the siblings’ organic family into individual sleeping quarters.

“Twitch, are you alright?” Nightshade asked, concerned. Their sibling’s face was drenched in the black, oily blood of their adversary.

“Yeah, I just had my hands full.” she responded confidently. Though her words had the cadence of a joke, Nightshade didn't seem to pick up on it.

“Seriously, what happened?” They prodded further.

“That monster tried to crush me. Sort of like this.” Twitch crushed one of the emptied energy drink cans as a demonstration.

“But it doesn't know who they're messing with, and I manage to cut their hand off.” She smiled proudly, but residual unease from the near death encounter still hung to her tone. This bravado was an attempt to force her mood to improve, and it wasn't entirely working.

“Here, to wipe the oil off.” Nightshade handed her a large cloth.

“Oh, thanks.” She cleaned her face up, before looking down at the now dirtied rag. “Wait, isn't this Robbie's shirt?”

“Yes. I borrowed some spare clothing from all of the family and store it here, in case of emergencies.”

“Borrowed? He told me he couldn't find this shirt for months….” She held out the soaked t-shirt in front of her, rancid oily blood dripping onto the floor.

“Emergency preparedness is more important than a diverse wardrobe.” Nightshade took the soiled garment and threw it into a basket. “That'll come off in the laundry. Probably.”

In the corner of Nightshade’s sensitive optics, they picked up some movement on the now activated surviving monitor. The pair raced over to see what it was. Out of the darkness of the forest above, something jumped into fame. The figure startled Nightshade badly enough that they fell to the floor. After recovering from the near spark attack herself, Twitch realized what it was.

“Oh, it's just a deer.” She gave a sigh of relief.

Nightshade got a good giggle from the pair of them getting so startled by a cute little buck. Twitch had mentioned she cut off the monster's hand, right? Surely, it wasn't coming back…

Gazing at the screen, something reached out and snatched the poor animal. Their monitor’s audio played a sickening crack the moment after. It was the unmistakable noise of snapping bone.

The culprit emerged from the woods, towering above even the tallest of trees. In one gnarled hand, it carried the limp body of the deer, whose neck was now bent at an unnatural angle, clearly dead.

The other hand was missing, leaving a stub of black tentrals.

It was clear this wasn't some kind of wooden monster they had thought of earlier. This was far more alien.

This monster appeared to be wearing the outer armor of a Cybertronian, held together by mangled tendrils and rusted metal sheets. Its abdomen, neck, and joints were made of thick, wiry tentacles twisted together like ropes of licorice. Long, clawed fingers clutched onto the ragdolled deer. Its face, seemingly normal at first glance, appeared to have enormous spotlights for optics, surrounded by deep black rings. It was as if it had carved holes in whatever unfortunate mech’s face it was using to fit its massive eyes.

The abomination was mostly gray, with any remaining colors on its shell muted and drained. It reminded Nightshade when they learned from Bumblebee. When a Cybertronian dies as a result of having their spark extinguished, their body will lose its color. All that's left behind is a gray, empty shell.

The monster lifted the deer so that it was held directly in front of its ghastly face. Instead of simply opening its mouth, it split its own jaw completely in half. Row upon row of sharp yellowed greeted their prey, before sinking into the buck’s head. It antlers sloughed off and fell to the forest floor. The poor deer's head barely gave any resistance to the creature’s bite, getting chomped away easily as a stalk of celery.

Twitch immediately felt sick, the urge to vomit filling her despite not even having a stomach.

Nightshade starred, wide-eyed with morbid curiosity, unawall to tear away their gaze.

With one of its clawed fingers, it easily gutted and flayed the remainder of the deer with the precision of a surgeon. It swallowed each limb whole, not even stopping to back a breather between each bite. The deer's torso was impaled on the tallest tree around, seemingly leaving it for later.

Full enough for now, the metallic corpse leaned over, resting its damaged arm on the forest floor. Slowly but surely, the severed tendrils twisted and grew, sprouting forward from the site of the injury. Soon enough, it had a brand new hand, identical to the original.

All of the damage the siblings had inflicted on the creature was undone in a moment.

“This isn't happening…” Twitch’s voice was barely a whisper, her entire body fighting back the urge to retch.

“A Valiant attempt, little one, But not good enough.”

The creature's unnatural voice made the static on the monitor worse as it spoke. How it had heard her from so far away was a complete mystery.

The thing bent forward to show its back, smaller tendrils poking out of the monster's armor. They wriggled and writhed, pulling themselves from the beast's back. Falling out from the cracks in the metal, two smaller creatures collided on the ground before standing up. They superficially resembled Cybertronian protoforms, but were differentiated by the claws and soulless eyes of the original monster.

“Go get me the green one. The red one is yours… consider it a treat.”

It pointed towards the camera at the base of the tree. The pawn-like monsters listened, immediately making their way towards the barn.

“I'll be seeing you shortly, Maltos.”

It bowed at the camera, before walking backwards out of site, into the woods.

“We are sooooo screwed.” Twitch mumbled, once the whole ordeal had concluded. “How did it find that tiny little camera? And when did it learn our family's name?”

“Don't worry, we, um…” Nightshade’s usually calm demeanor was shaking, the panic getting to them as well. … ‘“We should be safe here.” They placed a hand on her shoulder reassuringly, metal clicking as they touched. Twitch immediately swatted their hand away, turning in place to face them.

“Safe?” Her optics went wide, sparking with a furocity Nightshade had only seen a few times before. “Safe?! You just saw that thing make more of itself, Nightshade! We are anything BUT safe right now!”

They knew she was right, and that their reassurance was an empty gesture she had easily seen through.

“I’m sick of this.”

She drew out both of her swords.

Nightshade looked visibly shaken from Twitch's outburst, justified as it might be. If they could cry, they would be tearing up.

“Twitch, I-”

Twitch cut them off again.

“I'm going out there to defend what I love!”

Even though Twitch was running off fumes, she would fight an army if it meant keeping their family safe.

Nightshade rubs their optics before putting a hand on her shoulder once again.

“Not by yourself. I'm coming with you.” Nightshade informed her with an uncharacteristically stirred tone.

“You need to stay here, with them.” She pleaded. “I've got more training than you. I can handle this.”

“With all due respect, there isn't a chance you'd survive going head to head alone with our advisory here. I doubt even Optimus could take that monster down by himself. I get why you want to me stay back, but we won't be of any use without each other.” They leaned in, giving Twitch a big bear hug.

“We're doing this together,” said Nightshade.

After a moment of hesitation, Twitch nodded firmly.

“Together.” she replied, hugging them back.

They made sure everything was secured before drinking what was left of the energy drinks in hopes of staving off the creature's parasitic exhaustion. Venturing out of the dugout, they double checked to guarantee the door was locked behind them.

The bots stuck close by to one another, Twitch leading slightly ahead. Just as Nightshade got an arm's length away from their sister, something jumped on their shoulders and wrapped its arms around their neck.

It was one of the odd gray things the creature had produced. The thing was about Twitch’s size, only barely taller than the average human. Nightshade was able to pull their assailant off them, slamming it against the dirt.

Cracks formed on the monster's armor, its left leg was bent in the opposite direction.

This seemingly didn't slow it down, however, as with a high pitch grunt it snapped its leg back in place before charging at the green mech.

“NIGHTSHADE! Go high, I'm going low!” Twitch changed her hand into a blaster before taking aim and firing. The laser shot hit the monster's bad leg, blasting it off from the knee down.

As the creature stumbled, Nightshade’s talons struck against its face. This almost completely destroyed one of its eyes, leaving a deep gash. They knock it back with a powerful upcut to its jaw, sending half of its pointy teeth into the air.

As it fell backwards, Twitch raised one of her blades. She sent an aggressive slash on its shoulder. The sword moves in a round arc, cutting its torso in two like a knife through warm butter.

Both halves of the body fell down. Horrifically, even though all the monstrosity had left was a single arm, it continued to drag itself towards them. The thing seems either unaware or unbothered by the fact that its insides were being scrapped across the ground as it moved.

Nightshade backed up a good distance from their pursuer before running back at it, full sprint. With one solid kick, they sent its head flying over the house.

“Goal!” Nightshade cheered, twisting around to check on Twitch. Their little joke seemed to have worked at lightening some of the tension, and she smiled back at him widely. “That was incredible, Nightshade!”

As the small monster's corpse finally fell still, the siblings celebrated by high-fiving each other.

Their victory was short-lived, however, as an enormous hand rapidly grabbed Twitch from around the house. Nightshade ran after it, coming to stand in front of the Goliath.

“Let me go!” Twitch demanded, taking a shot at the thing’s chest, leaving nothing but a small burn mark. It retaliated by squeezing her tighter. With its other hand, it picked up her swords before tossing them away into the woods.

“You! After all this… chaos! What more do you want?” Nightshade yelled as loud as their vocal processor would allow.

The creature flexed its long neck towards the ground, gargantuan eyes boring holes into Nightshade's very being.

“It appears your human masters didn't raise you with any manners, child. But for future reference, it's not considered polite to ask such questions before being given a proper introduction.”

It gave a devilish, cocky smirk. The sickeningly smug expression of a creature who knew it had already won. It was just toying with its prey now, watching them squirm and suffer for its own amusement.

“You may call me Exquisite Corpse. I've seen how smart you are, I assume you can guess how I earned such a title.”

Nightshade wasn't even sure how to respond. This thing's manner of speech was infuriatingly civilized, clearly in an attempt to further provoke them.

“As for your question, I am after you in particular, little owl.”

“Me?!” They blurted in response. “And what makes you think I'm going to go along with this?” Nightshade challenged, trying not to let their confusion and fear show.

The haughty grin on Exquisite Corpse’s face never faltered.

“Oh, I suspected resistance from you, child. There's a good reason I made my powers known to you from the start.”

It leaned in even closer, its massive face just inches from Nightshade. Bits of blood and refuge from the deer it had previously consumed clung to its metal fangs.

“You know what I'm capable of. You know what I could do to not only her,”

It shook Twitch around in its hand, causing the red bot to yelp in shock and discomfort.

“But to your entire clan if I wanted. So now that you're aware of what's at stake, I don't think you'll put up any more struggle when I tell you to come with me.”

“Don't even think about it, Nightshade!” Twitch barked.

“I didn't say you could talk, fly!”

It screeched, pressing its claws against her even further. Twitch's body creaked as she tried not to scream from the pain. It was clear that if Exquisite Corpse's grip got any tighter, those claws would rip right through her.

“Stop!” Nightshade begged. “Please, just put her down…”

“Oh, I'll do a lot more than that. Do as I say, and your entire family will get left out of this unfortunate little affair.”

It leaned its empty hand in front of the bot.

“How does that sound, owl?”

The lights in Nightshade's optics streaked, making their vision go blurry. Tensing up, they reluctantly grabbed a finger of the giant hand back, shaking it.

“I accept your terms.” they solemnly said, biting their lip in anguish.

“I knew you were smart. Very good.”

It tossed Twitch to the ground, the minion pawns standing behind her with baited breath, held back only by their obedience to their master like a dog on a leash.

Exquisite Corpse gently picked up the owl, exhaling a deep purplish smoke in their face. Nightshade immediately felt more tired than they ever had in their life. As their body went limp for exhaustion, they heard one final exchange from the monster to its servants.

“She's all yours.”

As they walked off towards the woods, the last thing Nightshade could process was Twitch's voice, violently screaming out for their sibling to help her.

Act 3

The cold, metallic clicking of leaking rainwater rose Nightshade from their unconsciousness. They managed to pry their optics open, the young bot's vision blurred from exhaustion and their injuries. Nightshade silently prayed to whatever might be listening that all this had just been some sort of horror movie induced nightmare. That when they got up, they’d find themselves awake in the cozy dugout, surrounded by their siblings. That they could go on and have another fun, peaceful day with those they loved.

But they were met with no such luck. They were lying on an unfamiliar rusted floor, faint light leaking in from a hole above them. Scattered drops of fresh rain pattered down, keeping the air around them cool. It was a sound they usually quite enjoyed, under happier circumstances. With no idea where they were, however, it only brought them a further sense of alienation.

As they tried to gather their thoughts, a voice they had gotten to know far too well over the past few hours made itself heard.

“Rise and shine~”

The voice called from a pitch black doorway, only the speaker's white eyes indicating someone was there. Nightshade tried to change forms, but residual weakness kept them barely able to move. Honestly, they were surprised still able to move at all, being so drained of-

“Energy” it said.

“You need it to survive like all things do. It will not be good if you're too weak to stand.”

Its eyes narrowed to pin pricks of light.

“Lucky for us, it seems like your kind is able to process organics. Looks like we have something in common.” A wheezy laugh escaped the beast’s mouth.

“Unlike your inferior kin.”

It tossed a plastic-wrapped packet into Nightshade's cell.

“Is this Jerky?” they mumbled, looking over the bag with bleary optics.

“Better than rats, I suppose. Or do your animalistic instincts crave raw vermin?” It tilts its head.

“How would you know my body can process organic material?” Nightshade questioned, weakly.

“You and your sister seem to process those caffeinated liquids just fine. Besides, I can't see it being possible for a techno-organic species to survive solely off of polluted water.” It leaned its metallic face closer, its nightmarish grin now barely visible in the pale light. “You mean to tell me that in the year or so you’ve existed, you never bothered trying any food?” Its smile somehow grew wider.

Nightshade cut the side of the packet, pulling out one strip of dry meat. They placed it in their mouth and chewed a bit. It was pretty good, surprisingly. Under different circumstances, they'd be excited to try out other human foods. After swallowing it, they still felt off, like there was a hollow feeling in them that the small piece of nourishment slightly filled.

The beast spoke once more.

“I will return when you recover your strength. Until then, stay here.” It taunted, knowing damn well they weren't going anywhere.

It shut the thick metal door behind it with a cold clank. Alone and in the dark again, the green bot pulled out another piece of jerky.

“I hope Twitch is ok.”

---

Sharp claws rendered the air next to Twitch, the red bot barely managing to dodge the swipe by a hair. She reared in for a punch to its face, but was instead met with a monstrous knee to the abdomen. She failed to stop her battered fame from involuntarily folding up like a lawn chair from the pain. Orange, shaky optics stared down the approaching behemoth as it made its way to the barnside.

Twitch managed to activate the fans on her circular wings, blowing the monster back as it lunged directly towards her. The thing yelped as it was knocked backwards, but didn't remain stunned for long.

With her processor still hazy and her movements sluggish, Twitch knew this wouldn't be an even fight. She'd need to end it quickly, because there was no way her stamina would keep up for long.

As the husk made its way towards her once again, Twitch used what little remaining energy she had to back herself up into the garage. She frantically slammed her fist down on the button used to close the garage's metal door, hoping it would buy her a little more time. As the husk lunged at her again, she raised her arm, with just enough space between them to take a clear shot.

In less than a second, her laser blew a hole directly into the monster's head, sending it flying backwards. The garage door slammed shut right as its body was about half way through the exit, moving quickly enough to bisect the creature horizontally. The thing’s lower half laid on the garage floor, legs violently jerking one last time before going still.

After a moment's hesitation, she carefully moved to get a better look at the split torso. Oily black ooze and wiry threads leaked from the opened wound. Inside were tightly wrapped threads, somewhat resembling muscles, clinging tightly to shiny silver bones. The red bot hesitantly nudged the tattered mass with her foot. Satisfied when it didn't move, she let out a sigh of relief.

She decided to inspect the garage doors, wondering how they had closed so fast. It appeared that Nightshade had added some sort of speed adjuster, currently set onto “Turbo”.

“Nightshade’s going to get one of us killed these days, if they keep messing with electronics like this.” She mumbled. “Oh no, Nightshade!” Twitch's mind was flooded with thoughts of the monstrosity dragging away her sibling. Panic surged through her circuits, making her trace the room in circles, cradling her head in her hands. If she could barely take one of its minions, she wouldn't stand a chance against the creature alone. That's when her optics landed on a car battery and jumper cables.

“What would Nightshade do…” Twitch pondered aloud, gazing over the batteries with inquisitive optics.

_ _ _

Nightshade had just barely regained the strength to stand when their host decided to return.

“Please, follow me, honored guest.” It gestured, holding a slender hand behind itself. Not seeing any other viable options, Nightshade did as they were told.

As the young bot trailed behind their captor, it became apparent to them that they didn't even reach past the monster's knee in height. Wherever they were, the quiet halls of this place were clearly designed to be occupied by beings of immense stature.

Nightshade decided now would be as good a time as any to ask the burning question on their processor. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Blissfully foolish little thing. If I planned to kill you, why would I have kept you alive this long?” Seemingly just to taunt Nightshade, it dragged its claws against the stone walls, leaving shallow marks and a grating noise as they continued.

“I don't know. You could have plenty of reasons. That's why I asked.”

The monster looked back at Nightshade incredulously, only to be met with a sincere expression from the green bot. It was genuinely a little surprised at how curious their captive was. If anything, they seemed just as interested in the logistics of this operation as they did their own fate.

“I want you to join me… Nightshade.” The thing’s smile grew to enormous proportions, only to fade as they realized Nightshade gave no visible reaction to having their name used.

“Aren't you curious how I knew your name?” It tried to sound intimidating, but the bot just continued to stare at them with a wide eyed, yet steady expression.

“I just assumed you overheard my sister referring to me as such.” They answered. “Is that not the case?”

“Uh, no, I… Nevermind.” It seemed embarrassed of all things, not getting to use its usual mindgames. “Scrap, I lost my train of thought. Where was I?”

“You mentioned you wanted me to join you in something?”

“Oh, right, thanks.” It coughed awkwardly. “Ahem. Anyway, my kind has a unique way to produce more of our species. It all starts with a small injection.”

Its tongue formed into a sharp, needle-like point. Nightshade's optics went wide, nervously taking a step back.

“Your body will undergo a beautiful transformation. You'll be stretched, strained, melted. Your insides will dissolve and reform into divine fibrous threads, while keeping your outer casing mostly in tack.” Having regained its sinister mojo, it leaned in menacingly.

“And most importantly, you will be able to spread your variation of life to all that you see. Your unique biology, I believe it's called your alt mode… it's the perfect blend of organic and inorganic material.”

It gestures to the room in front of them.

Inside, dozens of stasis pods filled with an odd silver liquid Thing against the walls, each with a glowing ball of light in their chests.

Nightshade peered in, before being struck with dreadful recognition. “No, those aren't-”

“Oh, but they are! Protoforms, just for us. You can think of them as our new family.” It laughed, a sound like metal scraping against itself.

“Your techoraganic DNA will make them perfect hybrids between you and I.”

“And why was I chosen for this?” Again, Nightshade’s tone, while clearly uncomfortable, also was bizarrely curious given the circumstances.

The monster scratched at its eye socket, as if it was getting bored.

“Your alt mode, little owl. Strong, swift, and capable of flight. None of your kin can compare in potential.”

“And why can't you just make your army on your own?”

Their bright-eyed, inquisitive questioning seemed genuinely rooted in fascination with this process, which was almost annoying to their captor. It sighed, and begrudgingly answered.

“My body is beyond repair, as you may have noticed. Its previous occupant was gravely injured when I took their place. I was going to just scavenge for more parts… but upon picking up signs of unique, *living* biomechanical parts nearby… Well, that gave me a better idea.”

The two of them continued their walk, finally ending up in an enormous room.

Trashed control panels for an unidentifiable drive and gnarled viscera littered the floor. The foul stench of copper and rot emanated from a tub in the dead center. The beast pushed a reluctant Nightshade towards it.

The scared bot hesitantly peered over the vessel, only to be greeted by a viscous red liquid.

Nightshade nearly gagged upon recognizing the horrific sight in front of them, stumbling backwards away from the blood. Their captor, apathetic towards their discomfort, grabbed the young bot with a single clawed hand.

“But before we comment, I will need approval from a higher power.”

It dipped its free hand into the blood, and began to paint a sigil on the wall.

It licks its filthy hand clean before hovering a clawed finger over Nightshade's face.

“I require one last ingredient to achieve communication.”

Nightshade tried to squirm away to break free as the point of the monster's claw made contact with their cheek. Searing hot pain engulfed their entire face.

The young bot desperately tried to hold in their screams, not wanting to give their tormentor the satisfaction. Having never experienced anything like this, anything this unbearably horrible, how very, they gave in, screeching at the awful sensation. The whole ordeal lasted only a moment, and the monster revealed to them a luminous green liquid on its finger tip.

For a second, Nightshade was confused in its origin. Realization dawned on them as they felt the liquid trickle onto their chest.

“I'm bleeding.” They stated, their tone cold and grim from shock.

“A nice pretty green.” It laughed, mixing Nightshade’s blood into the sigil.

Nightshade watched in helpless horror as the blood twisted and moved upon contact, changing colors until eight white, luminous eyes took form.

_ _ _

Twitch shakily touched the two ends of the jumper cables together, watching with wide optics as they sparked at the contact. The jolt nearly scared the sprockets out of her, but she managed to take a deep breath to steady herself again. She stood over her unconscious younger sister, attaching the cables with an uncertain hum. A zap of energy filled the air before the car battery made a “pop” and went stone dead.

Twitch clutched her fists tightly, heat welling up in her face as her desperate attempt to wake Hashtag failed. She felt her knees go weak, and a strong urge to curl up into a ball and cry. Before she could give in, a faint whirring noise caught her attention. It was Hashtag's optics, groggily prying themselves open.

“Twitch? What's going on-”

With her energy revived by hope, Twitch rushed in to give her sister one of her famous bear hugs.

“Uh, good morning to you too.” Hashtag said awkwardly, patting her on the back.

Twitch grabbed her sister's hand, desperately tugging it as she tried to pull the larger bot up.

“We need to go, now! Something horrible took Nightshade and-”

“Whoa, slow down, Twitch. I just woke up.” Hashtag stood up, feeling the odd cables attached to her neck.

“I didn't go to sleep with these on, right?” She questioned.

“There's a giant monster keeping everyone asleep! I had to jumpstart you awake with that.”

Hashtag narrowed her optics incredulously.

“Giant… monster?” She parroted back.

“Yeah, the thing is probably twice the size of Mr Prime!” Twitch was practically dragging Hashtag outside at this point. “It sent creatures to attack us. But me and Nightshade destroyed one and I took care of another myself.”

Now outside, Hashtag didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

“Really?” Hashtag rhetorically asked. She thought this had to be some kind of poorly planned joke.

“Yes, really!” The smaller answered, frustrated that she wasn't being taken seriously. “Look, its remains are over here-”

The bisected upper half of the monster was gone, only leaving a puddle of oily blood by the opening of the garage.

Before Hashtag could react, her sister let go of her arm, frantically looking around the building’s exterior for any signs of the missing body.

Hashtag did her best to keep up with her, eventually finding Twitch directly behind the barn, seemingly frozen in place.

“Hey, what's wrong? You're acting-”

The upper half of the creature that Twitch fought previously cut Hashtag off. The two sisters watched in stunned silence as what should have been a corpse pulled parts of the other slain monstrosity into itself. Threads from its wound skewered and pulled scattered limbs, bones, and plating together to reconstruct itself. The final result took the form of a metallic homunculus centaur.

“So that's what you were talking about.” Was all Hashtag could say before the beast spotted the pair, instantly lunging for them.

They both were barely able to dodge the strike, causing the centaur’s arm to slash at a nearby bench, slicing it in two. After realizing it had missed, it started galloping on clawed legs in another loop before heading towards Twitch. She didn't have time to get up before it was upon her. Its front legs, the former arms of its lower half, held Twitch down as it prepared for a devastating swipe.

Hashtag took a moment to recover, before her optics lit up. She was right next to the family grill’s propane tank.

She ripped it out and triumphantly held it above her head.

“Hey, freak!”

The thing turned around just in time to have the tank smash its face in. Twitch scrambled free as it loosened its grip. She zipped away as the monster's head weakly turned to face her, its jaw hanging on by a few sinews.

She aimed her blaster at the propane tank.

“Yippee kayak other buckets.” Hashtag didn't get the Brooklyn 99 reference.

The tank exploded into a huge fireball. Chunks of the creature’s flesh and limbs flew all over the place. The sisters didn't have much time to celebrate before panic set back in.

“That thing must be doing something horrible to Nightshade!” Twitch belated frantically.

“Twitch, I mean…” Hashtag loosely kicked one of the detached parts. “It looks pretty dead to me.”

“No, a much bigger one got them!”

“Oh…wait, I've got Nightshade's signal! We can track them!” Hashtag said cheerfully.

“Wait, what?”

“What do you mean, what? Did Nightshade not tell you about those tracking implants they put in us? I can follow them.”

Twitch decided this wasn't the time to question that. She picked up her swords and gave her sister a solid nod.

“Let's get ‘em, Hashtag.”

_____

The bloody figure in the mural was similar to the monster’s minions, except for the enormous horns and eight spider-like eyes. Nightshade looked towards the thing to see a snarl replaced its grin.

His captors began, furious. “Where is SHE! I must speak with her you-”

“How rude of you to yell at your superior. Besides, she is busy at the moment. You should know that better than anyone… leach.”

The painting could somehow move, as if each brush stroke independently changed on their own.

“If you're asking to start your own colony, then the answer is still no. Even if she was here to allow it.”

“Why not? This one has the potential to bring a new generation into being. Plus, I have the strength and knowledge to lead the way to greatness.”

It pushed Nightshade forward like it was showing their teacher its homework, with a tinge desperation is in its voice.

“For one, you think you're anything special because you fused to a cybertronian body? Any brain dead husk could do that. Second, you are considered on line for execution for abandoning your duty and attempting to start a hive. Third, my lady wouldn't like to see this poor child be subject to your will.

So I suggest you just save us all the trouble of hunting you down, and end your life before we can.”

It finished with a scrap-eating smile.

“Leach.”

The beast's eyes narrowed, it's expression morphing into pure anger.

“You ugly son of a-” A barrage of swears and curses that Nightshade only heard in the movie came out of its mouth. Some of them were for languages they couldn't even begin to understand.

This gave Nightshade the chance to sneak away while it was distracted. When they were sufficiently far enough, they ran down what they thought was the outside door. They were met with a control panel that required a code to progress. Completely over this scrap, Nightshade just ripped the panel off.

After a bit of fiddling with the wiring, the door swung open. Nightshade sprinted into the cool night. They looked behind them to see their captor had apparently kept them in a crashed alien ship.

“Look, they're over there!”

A wonderfully familiar voice rang out of the forest. Not a moment later, Nightshade recognized the bright headlights of Hashtag’s alt mode, with Twitch, curiously, riding on her back.

“Hashtag! You're awake! Twitch, did you-”

Of course, they were interrupted by Twitch ramming into them for a hug. Nightshade awkwardly patted their sister on the back.

“Woah! Were you in there, Nightshade?” The largest of the siblings eagerly drove up the entrance of the downed ship. She was knocked backwards as the monster reared its head out of the entrance.

“YOU!” It bellowed, fangs bared. It reached towards Nightshade with feverish rage, clearly infuriated that it had been cheated.

Hashtag, still in her alt mode, took the initiative to drive at the monster's leg at full speed. Having taken it by surprise, it was off balance enough that she managed to cleanly snap its calf from its thigh. The leg went flying, and the monster screeched in pain.

“Wow, that actually worked?” She seemed genuinely surprised.

Twitch grabbed Nightshade and the satellite of Hashtag's alt mode, attempting to yank the two forward. “It's not going to stay down for long! We need to get out of here!”

“Aw, really? I mean, we took out its leg, right? That's gotta be enough. Can't I atleast get to check out the spaceship?” Hashtag pleaded.

The monster screamed again, rearing up to charge at them on its three remaining legs. “INSOLENT CHILDREN! I'LL WEAR YOUR CADAVERS AS NECKLACES WHEN I'M DONE WITH YOU!”

“...Nevermind, I want to go home now.”

With Hashtag having the most energy of the siblings (and being the largest), she stuck to her alt mode with the other two on the roof of her van, racing through the woods with the alien on their tail. Having removed its leg had slowed it down, but not enough that out running it would be easy.

Twitch was using what little strength she had to fire lasers back at their pursuer, to little avail.

“Hey, I probably should have asked this earlier, but where are we going?” Hashtag's radio called out.

Nightshade glared daggers through the window of their sister’s alt mode. “What?! Hashtag, you're the one driving! Are we just headed in a random direction?”

“I panicked! This is terrifying! Just be grateful I'm not leaking oil or anything!”

Before Nightshade could respond, they heard the familiar chugging of a train. Sure enough, just up ahead was one of the unmanned Ghost trains. Finally, a fighting chance.

“Is that a train?” Twitch took a moment's break to look behind her. A flash of recognition in her optics told Nightshade she had just gotten the same idea they did.

“Hashtag! Can you control the-” She began, but it seems her sister was also on the same wavelength. Using her remote hacking abilities, she had the cybernetic train slow down, allowing her to drive across the track. “Hold on, I'm going to make a hard left!”

The monster, clearly not giving it the human made locomotive a second thought, turned around to continue its chase. The nanosecond it stepped foot on the tracks, Hashtag had the train pull forward at max speed, obliterating its remaining hind leg. With a hellish roar, their pursuer fell to the ground, where Hashtag preemptively ran its torso over and over again with the train until she was satisfied.

“I saw that in a movie once, it's called double tapping. You don't stop until you know it's dead.” She chimed, seemingly happy with the results.

Shifting back to bot mode, all three siblings cautiously approached the slain beheatmoth, its nightmarish body splayed in half. Oily guts coated the tracks and train, leaving a thick smell of burned rubber and iron in the air.

“...I think I'm going to pass out.” Twitch fell to her knees, exhausted, clutching her forehead. Both Nightshade and Hashtag ran to her side, picking her up by the shoulders.

“Woah, hey, Twitch, you're good, you're good. That was the main monster, right, Nightshade?” Hashtag's big blue optics glittered with hope in their sibling's direction, waiting for a positive response.

“Well… yes and no. From what I saw, this creature is part of some alien society with others if it's kind. However, it seems its… higher ups, for lack of a better term, don't have much interest in coming to earth.”

“So… it's working alone, right? We're done?” Twitch pulled herself up, gaining a bit of balance.

“For now. This is something we'll have to discuss with Optimus Prime and Megatron.”

“Oh man, Optimus… are we going to get in trouble for destroying this train?” Hashtag worriedly looked over the damaged Ghost train. Unsurprisingly, repeatedly ramminging it into a giant alien had done a significant amount of damage.

“I think they'll understand.” Nightshade reassured her.

“Are we… we need to check up on the others at home.” Twitch began hovering back to the direction of the family house, still determined as ever to keep her loved ones safe.

A giant claw smacked her out of the sky without a moment's notice, breaking both her wing and the eerie silence of the forest.

It wasn't dead. Not completely, anyway.

The monster's head and shoulder were still loosely held onto its right arm by a few mangled tendrils, allowing the wounded creature to drag itself slowly across the grass.

“Nightshade, we aren't done. Please, listen to me. I can promise you-”

Nightshade noticed a glowing orb hanging on to the lower part of its neck, appearing to be some sort of power cell.

They walked over as the creature continued its monologue. It seemed to believe the green bot was considering its offer.

Nightshade stomped on the power cell repeatedly, until it exploded into a pile of azure sludge. As they had predicted, all life signs from the creature faded, and its tendrils loosened their grip on its body completely.

“I am so tired of that thing.” They sneered, unusually bitter. Their facial expression softened as they turned back to their injured sister. “Are you alright, Twitch?”

“Ugh, I'm… yeah, I'll just need to get this fixed.” She confirmed, shaking her loosened wing to test its durability.

Hashtag transformed, honking her van’s horn. “Ok, you guys need to tell me everything on the way back. I'm so confused right now. Hop on already!”

---FIN—

[in1-nutshell]

HELLO‼️ I hope you are safe and well with the hurricane and I'm so glad that I'm able to finally send a request so here it is‼️

There's not many rescue bots oneshots and I want to change that, so in Rescue bots theres human skater buddy with their head in the clouds leading them to getting into trouble frequently (like nearly getting hit by a car or just getting into the crossfire of the rescue bots shenanigans) and it's like to a point where the whole when they are out on a mission have to keep a spare eye/optic out for the little human‼️

I hope you'll be able to get to this before it's deleted or whatever, but still, I can't wait to see what you come up with for this concept. Thanks, and have a good day/night‼️

Introducing Danger magnet Buddy! love this concept!

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy the skater and a danger magnet

SFW, Platonic, Human Reader

RB

The Burns family had known about Buddy’s little quirks for years.

They were after all good friends with Cody throughout their childhood.

The kid had their head up in the clouds or down with their skates.

Luckily, Cody always seemed to find ways to get them back down to Earth.

Too bad there wasn’t much he could do about their terrible luck with dangerous situations.

They never mean to be in these situations, they just happen when they’re around.

It took a while for the Burns to finally understand it wasn’t their fault.

It was a small island, one was bound to get stuck in the crossfire at some point.

When the Bots arrived, Cody made sure to debrief them a bit about his friend’s tendencies.

Heatwave is convinced that Buddy is doing it for attention.

There is now way someone can be THAT unlucky.

Not even on this island.

Kade and him have little talks about Buddy being a ‘danger magnet.’

Kade: “You think they are doing it for attention?” Heatwave: “Isn’t it obvious? There’s no way they aren’t doing it for any other reason.” Kade chuckles. Kade: “We used to think that too… but after a few years of seeing their little dumb face around, you kinda start believing it.” Heatwave: “What do you mean?” Kade: “There a bit of a danger magnet.” Heatwave: “Why is that a magnet you have!?”

He does start believing the existence of ‘the danger magnet’ after a few missions where Buddy just showed up randomly.

Heatwave hates to see Buddy in the line of fire, especially when they have no control over it.

Always reminds his team to keep an extra optic out for the little skater.

Speaking of skates, Heatwave actually likes seeing Buddy skate around the bunker.

Especially when they show off some of their tricks.

Buddy is a bit oblivious to why Heatwave is so insistent to them staying with Cody on com job.

Chase and Boulder are confused.

Why does Buddy go to these dangerous places?

They aren’t durable enough to be so close to the danger.

Chase has a separate file on all of Buddy’s incidents.

Chief Burns: “Chase? You, okay?” Chase is typing on a data pad. Chase: “I am simply reporting Buddy’s latest incident on today’s rescue. Today they were stuck in the same tree as Mister Pettypaws… I still wonder how they got up there with their skates…” Chief Burns: “Oh, don’t think too hard about that Chase. That’s just how Buddy is.” Chase: “Do they like danger?” Chief Burns: “No, they just have a bad record of being in places at the wrong time.” Chase: “… I can try to clean their record if you allow me access to them.”

Boulder takes a more direct approach and asks Buddy why they keep going towards danger.

Buddy just shrugs and goes back to their skates.

The green mech decides to ask the others about Buddy’s behavior instead.

Boulder: “Is something wrong with them?” Graham: “Nothing’s wrong with them Boulder.” Boulder: “Then how come they always seem to be near our dangerous missions? Even Cody doesn’t do that too often.” Graham: “When you’ve known them as long as we have, you start believing the phrase ‘wrong place and the wrong time.’ We can’t exactly explain it, but the best we can do is look out for them. No one can control what happens outside Boulder.” Boulder: “Hmm… I guess you’re right.” Later… Chase and Boulder look at their creation with pride. Buddy is wrapped head to toe with bubble wrap. Buddy: “How am I gonna skate like this?” Chase: “Sacrifices must be made Buddy.”

The pair find Buddy’s skating to be interesting and a bit relaxing… as long as Buddy has the proper safety equipment on them.

 Buddy doesn’t like the ‘creative’ ways the bots are trying to keep them ‘safe’, but the thought is what counts.

Blades, unlike the others, fully understands the phrase ‘wrong place, wrong time.’

But he also believes an outside force is making Buddy go to these dangerous places.

Already has a bulletin board with the red string trying to figure out what could be making the little skater go to these places.

Blades shows the board to the rest of the bots. Blades: “I’m telling you guys! There’s a connection somewhere!” Heatwave: “… How long have you been working on this?” Blades: “Not important.” Chase: “Blades, is it highly unlikely that something is making Buddy do these things.” Blades: “But if you see what happened last month and 5 months ago—” Boulder: “Blades, when was the last time you recharged?” Blades: “Not important.” Heatwave: “I’m calling Dani.” Blades: "Wait don’t!”

He just doesn’t want Buddy to get hurt by being in places they aren’t supposed to be.

Blades has a separate med kit in his subspace labeled ‘Buddy’s’.

The bot loves Buddy’s skates and has already asked Doc Greene if he could make a pair for him.

Heatwave has tried to stop him from getting these skates too many times to count.

He isn’t known for being the best with balance.

Buddy enjoys Blades making little videos and changing music while they skate around.

[malk1ns]

october 31 2024 vs ducks, 2-1 OT win

continuing my bond fic from the last game because it's speaking to me right now.

The jangling bond hasn’t left Zhenya’s awareness since Tuesday.

Now that he knows it’s there, he kind of can’t believe they didn’t notice it sooner. How long has it been waiting for someone to point out the obvious so that it could slip into place? How many years have they been half-bonded and not even noticed?

Zhenya doesn’t want to think too closely on the answer to that.

Luckily, there’s a losing streak to snap.

It’s just the Ducks, but Zhenya watched some tape on their off-day, pacing his living room and scratching absently at his neck because he couldn’t stay still, pausing and rewinding over and over to get a look at the Anaheim goalie. He’s good. And there’s still the lingering embarrassment of the own goal from last season. Zhenya’s determined to make up for that mistake this year.

When the game starts, though, something odd happens.

He’s still on Sid’s wing. There’s a bit of him that rankles at being relegated to left winger, but it’s drowned out by the need to be close to Sid, to sit next to him on the bench and watch plays develop and just know that when they swing over the boards together they’re going to eat the other team alive. Zhenya’s been playing well all season, he’s not too humble to say so, but it’s different when he and Sid are on the ice together.

He’s not putting up points yet, though.

None in the last game, before they knew what had happened, and none tonight either, somehow not on either of Sid’s goals even though Zhenya was out there for the first one, fought for possession and backchecked and got his stick in lanes and did everything he could to make sure Sid had a clear line at the net.

And that’s the strange part, really. Zhenya can play defense, despite what certain pundits in town like to bleat about. He used to be on the penalty kill when he was younger. It’s just not what the team has needed from him for the last couple of years, so he’s focused on offense, on scoring and setting up plays and putting the team on his back and hauling them onto the scoresheet, just like Sid.

But this season, Zhenya’s comfortably at a point-per-game pace. Sid? Isn’t.

And so all game, Zhenya found himself deferring to Sid’s playmaking, Sid’s shots on net. He backchecked, he passed, he snuck his stick into the Ducks’ play to disrupt their momentum and direct the puck back to his own teammates. He worked his ass off to get Sid the chances he needed, and he didn’t get a single point for himself.

It’s important for Sid to get on the score sheet, of course. The Penguins only ever go as far as their captain can take them, and Sid elevating his play back to what he’s capable of is more important than Zhenya’s personal stat line.

But it makes him itchy. The bond is pushing him to step back, to simplify and do the hard work in the corners to make sure Sid can finish his shots, and as happy as Sid is to be back on track, as happy as that makes Zhenya, there’s also a part of him that worries that his contributions are going to fade into the background.

He hands Sid the victory helmet in the locker room after the game. He doesn’t know quite what he said, but it doesn’t matter—Sid won’t let them post that footage, not with the bond so fresh. Sid smiles at him, but he’s swallowed up by the noise and attention from the rest of the team, and Zhenya—

Zhenya steps back, and tugs off his base layers, and slips into the showers.

He scrubs at his hair angrily. Sid’s joy is bright in his peripheral vision, magnetic, and Zhenya wants to go to him, wants to say, look Sid, did you see how I helped, did you see what I did to get you those points?

He wants to worm his way next to Sid, wants to drape his arm over Sid’s shoulders and draw him close. He wants to touch Sid, wants Sid to touch him back, and that’s new and different and frightening.

Zhenya’s feelings are so conflicted, and the bond is tugging at him so strongly, that he feels sick to his stomach. He practically skids into the change room to throw on his sweats, thinking that if he can only get home, maybe some distance before they have to be in to practice tomorrow will settle his stomach and calm the bond down.

He’s almost to his car when Sid catches up with him.

“G,” Sid says, and his hand on Zhenya’s arm feels like a brand. He echoes Zhenya’s sharp inhale. “Hey, where are you…you can’t leave yet.”

Zhenya turns. Sid’s brows are drawn together, and the drowning happiness he’d been feeling since his OT winner went in has flickered, overlaid with anxiety and the same sort of sickly, creeping need that Zhenya’s had crawling over his skin since the trainers finally let them both go home Tuesday night. “Need to sleep,” Zhenya croaks out, clenching his fists. The need to step close and get his hands on Sid’s skin is overwhelming now that they’re so close together.

Sid doesn’t bother holding back. He gets into Zhenya’s space, backing him up against his car and practically pinning him in place. When he pushes his face into the crook of Zhenya’s neck, the sickening spiral of closerclosercloser resolves itself so abruptly that Zhenya would stumble if he weren’t being held so firmly.

“God,” Sid says, voice muffled into Zhenya’s skin. “What is this? Have you…I didn’t notice until you left the locker room, but you’ve…has it been like this for you all night?”

Zhenya swallows. “Since Tuesday,” he admits, wincing as the bond goes remorseful. “I’m think maybe, like, it’s new, but then…” He shrugs.

Sid picks up where he trailed off. “You were playing different all night,” he breathes, tilting his head up and snaking his hands around Zhenya’s waist. “I noticed. You were all over the ice, but you weren’t…it was different. Was that because of me?”

Zhenya’s palms find their way to Sid’s shoulder blades without his permission. “You need points,” he says, sinking lower so their bodies press together. His eyes feel heavy. “I know you’re need so bad, like, I have to do everything to make sure you get.”

“Geno,” Sid sounds…

Zhenya shivers, clutching Sid closer. Suddenly, the mere idea of them being separated is the worst thing he’s ever heard.

“What’s happening?” Sid says. He sounds young, plaintive and lost, and all Zhenya can do is shake his head and try to hold them both steady until this passes and he can get them home.

[leonardalphachurch]

GOOGLE SEARCH: HOW TO TALK TO OTHER DADS REDDIT

Lavernius Tucker and Oliver "North" Dakota are two single fathers forced to brave their most difficult challenge as a dad yet: making small talk with other parents. Not many survive this harrowing ordeal, but the bonds forged through this traumatic experience create lifelong friendships. Or, perhaps, even something more...?

A modern single dads Tucker/North AU written for @rvbrarepairweekdos Day 3: AUs. Warnings for discussions of sex/masturbation, but no actual sexual content.

I don't know why I wrote this, either. I don't even ship this. I suppose the wheel compelled me...

Also avaliable to read on Ao3.

***

“Sooo, uh, what do you… do with your time?"

“Oh, I’m a pediatric dentist.”

“No, I know that, I meant, uh,” This sucked. Tucker had zero things in common with these parents at this School for Gifted Children that had scouted Junior earlier this year. Most of them barely gave him the time of day, but this guy, Oliver Dakota, was insistent on staying the entire time his kid was hung out with Junior. After multiple false starts, Tucker shamefully ducked away for a second to look up ‘HOW TO TALK TO OTHER DADS REDDIT’ and found, “I meant, what do you do with your free time?”

“Oh,” North smiled warmly at the other man, then looked back to the door to Junior’s room. Left open a crack— he would have preferred it to be open all the way, but Lavernius had insisted the kids be given privacy. He seemed like a genuine and nice man, if a little awkward. North appreciated him and Theta being allowed into his home. Still, he wasn’t that interested in talking; compromising on the door meant he needed to keep a closer ear out for if Theta needed him. “I don’t really have much free time. With a kid and work, it’s like two full time jobs. But it’s all worth it for Theta.”

“Right.” God, this guy was giving Tucker nothing. Every single topic went back to Theta. And Tucker loved his kid, but being a single dad meant so much of his life was already dedicated to him. If he was talking to another adult he at least wanted to talk about something adult for once. “You gotta do something with your time, though. You into sports?”

“Haven’t really kept up with any lately. Theta was on the soccer team when they were younger, but we’ve decided to focus on academics in middle school.”

“Okay… Watched any good TV lately?”

“I mostly just catch snippets of whatever cartoon Theta has on.”

“……..Do you play games?”

“Oh, Theta had me join them in playing a little farm game— what’s it called, star, starting… ‘Starting Farming?’ No, no, it’s definitely ‘star’… ‘Starry Farmy?’”

“Stardew Valley?”

“That’s it! Do you play it? It’s very cute.”

“Yeah, uh, not, really my type of game. What about stuff you do without your kid?”

“Ah,” That was kind of a strange question. Most conversations North had with other parents were all about their kids— mostly trying to constantly one up the other’s accomplishments. To ask about things that he did without Theta? Why did he even care about that? “Well, I read alone?"

“Awesome! What are you reading?” Tucker didn’t give a shit about books, but he would grasp onto literally anything this dude was offering.

“Mostly child psychology books. Though lately it’s been a lot YA novels. I try to read things Theta is interested before they do so we can have discussions about them. And to make sure there’s nothing too inappropriate for their age.”

Tucker was stunned. This guy could not be serious. Was everything about his kid? “Don’t you do things with your friends?”

“Ahh,” North’s smile got a little tighter. “We had to move away from my hometown a few years ago; the schools there weren’t great for Theta, and then they got accepted here…”

“You haven’t had friends for years?”

“I have friends.” North was taken aback. What kind of person asked something like that so bluntly?

“But you don’t spend time with them.”

“I… see them often enough. When I visit home. For the holidays.” North didn’t know why he felt so defensive over this.

“Do you…” Tucker hesitated, not wanting to overstep with a guy he barely knew but also fucking floored at what this dude’s life seemed to be, “do anything for yourself that isn’t about your kid?”

North balked. “Of course I do! And, the- this question is flawed. Taking care of Theta is something I do for myself.”

“You can’t just only live for your kid, dude. There’s shit you gotta do without them.”

North twitched a little at the swear word. “There’s nothing I want to do that I would need to exclude Theta from.”

“What about sex?”

“SHHHHH!!” North panickedly looked over at the door, “Lower your voice if you’re talking about that!” He half yelled, half whispered.

“Dude. Does your kid not know about sex yet??” Tucker asked, not lowering his voice even slightly.

“Of course Theta knows what sex is!” North said, still whispering. “Teaching age appropriate sex education is incredibly important to a child’s understanding of their own body and safety. Theta knows exactly what leading child psychologists recommended an 11 year old knowing.”

“Okay.” Jesus Christ. This dude needed help bad.

North frowned. He could feel the judgement coming from Lavernius. Other parents always thought they could butt into situations that didn’t concern them. “I do not need your input on how I take care of my child.”

“I don’t care about how you take care of your kid, man, I care about how you take care of your you.”

“What?” North had no idea what he meant by that.

“Have you had sex a single time since Theta was born?”

“What?!” Seriously, how could he just ask something like that?

“You know what, not even sex. When was the last time you jerked off? Please tell me you’ve had an orgasm in the past decade.”

“This- this is a highly inappropriate conversation to be having with our kids in the other room” North had no idea how they ended up here, but he desperately wanted to move on.

“Not even once?”

“I don’t want Theta to overhear this conversation.”

“They’re playing a game, they’re not gonna hear, trust me. Kids don’t listen to their parents talking even when you want them to, they don’t give a shit what adults say to each other.”

“Theta listens to me.”

“Uh huh.” They needed to move away from the topic of their kids. Tucker needed to help this man. “Listen to me, man. I need you to do something for me.”

“What?”

Tucker grabbed him by the shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Or at least, he tried to. God, this man was way too fucking tall. And actually looking into his eyes— Jesus, they were piercing. Tucker didn’t think this kind of blond hair blue-eyed motherfucker actually existed. Terrifying.

“Tonight, when you go home, once you do whatever weird nighttime ritual you do to put Theta to bed,” Oliver started to make a noise in disagreement but Tucker pushed past it, “I need you to go to your room. I need you to be alone. I need you to get comfortable. And I need you to jack off.”

North had no fucking idea how to respond to that.

“Trust me. I have a friend, his girlfriend died, right? And for like a year afterwards he was so fucking miserable. Until one day I was like, ‘You NEED to blow off some steam, if you know what I mean. Bow chicka bow wow.’ Next day he was like a new man.”

“I don’t. know.“ North thought there were probably some other reasons his friend may have been miserable, there.

“I know, you’ve been out of the game, you don’t know how to find good porn. I got you, I’ll send you some.”

“I wasn’t—“

“I got you.” Tucker was already pulling out his phone, thinking of some good beginner porn he could send Oli’s way. “What are you into? You seem kinda vanilla but sometimes vanilla looking chicks are into the weirdest shit, y’know?”

“That’s— I don’t— this isn’t— I’m. Gay.” That wasn’t really something North tended to share with other parents, but they were so far outside of the kinds of conversations he tended to have anyway, any normal ways to respond had completely left his brain.

“You’re—” Tucker looked him up and down. Huh. Maybe he should’ve been able to guess that. “Uh. That’s fine. I have gay shit I can send you.”

“You have gay shit.” Right. Okay. North was pretty sure he just swore for the first time in years. What the fuck was happening?

“Yeah, y’know, I’m… uh, it doesn’t matter what I am. But I can get whatever you want.”

“Okay.” Okay. North’s brain was starting to catch up to where they were. Was Lavernius… flirting with him? Was this what flirting was now? He was so lost.

He should probably set a boundary.

“I… do not want you to send me porn.”

“Okay,” Tucker said, putting his phone back in his pocket. “You got it handled yourself?”

“Yes, I,” North let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, “I can handle myself.”

“Good. ‘Cause the shit you were saying before was sad, man. I know we barely know each other but, c’mon, single dads gotta have each others backs, right?”

“Yeah, um. Thanks.”

“No problem.” Tucker smiled at him.

North liked his smile.

(continued in reblogs)

[sturnioloszn]

ICE BOUND - M.S

summary; you accompany your father to his coaching session when your eyes land on his star player and captain, matt sturniolo.

warnings; smut, oral (blowjob), throat-fucking, praising, begging, dirty talk, pet names (just pretty girl lmao), think that's it?

a/n; it was a veryy close poll, but ice hockey matt won by the slightest. also, my next post will be about a taglist, and if you want to be part of it, more info will be there!

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

It was mid-december, and thick snow covered the ground. The icy winds still managed to bring me goosebumps even when I was wrapped in a large jacket, gloves, a beanie, and a scarf. The snow beneath my worn down shoes crunched with each step I took, and small snow flakes landed on the exposed areas of my face.

"Thanks for coming, y/n," my dad speaks from next to me, breaking me out of my thoughts. We were currently walking through the parking lot to reach the entrance of the local ice rink. I offered to watch one of my dad's practice sessions. Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Sunday, he was down to this rink training his team of players, readying them for the tournament that was quickly arriving.

"Of course," I say, flashing a small smile. We finally enter the building, a surge of hot air hitting us. I instantly start taking my layers off, discarding them in one of the lockers. I was now much more comfortable in my baggy jumper and jeans.

I made my way to the rink, claiming my spot on one of the back row benches. Not many people came to the practice sessions, usually a parent or some friends, but that was it.

After a few moments, I saw a group of boys alongside my dad walk out of the locker room and onto the ice. My dad forced them to do three laps around the rink to warm up and then the practice actually began.

I watched them intensely, swinging their sticks and making the puck fly from one end of the rink to the other. I knew the basic rules due to the fact that my dad was literally an ice hockey coach, and I grew up around the sport.

After half an hour or so of this, I noticed one of the guys had a 'C' on his jumper. C? Captain? I never knew my dad allocated a captain already. Usually, he likes to mention random stuff like that, but I don't remember him ever talking about this.

Brown strands of hair peaked out through his helmet, and he proudly wore the number 4 and the surname 'Sturniolo' on his back. I don't even recall seeing him on the team at all. I guess the last game I came to see was about a year ago. Still though, kid managed to place captain in less than a year. He must be an ice hockey prodigy or some shit.

My focus remains on him the rest of the time. He glided smoothly on the ice, and his passes were clean. It was clear to see why he was captain. He must have felt me burning holes into the back of his head, and his eyes met mine. I instantly move to look at my shoes. Shit. That's embarrassing.

After almost two hours of practice, they begin to wrap up, and they all head towards the locker room. The last off the ice was the one and only prodigy himself. I walk down the benches as he skates off the ice and takes off his helmet, giving me a clearer view of his face. I go sit next to him on the bench as he's undoing his skates.

"That was a good game," I initiated the conversation, looking down at his red hands fiddling with the laces.

"Thanks, you watch often?" He asks, turning his head to look at me.

"Um, not really, but I know a thing or two," I say, giving a sly smile. He chuckles before looking back to his skates.

"Yeah? Who y'here for?" He asks again, probably referring to one of his teammates. He must think I'm either one of their girlfriends or one of their sisters. Well, I'm neither.

"Your coach," I reply. My answer makes his head snap to look at me; there's a look of shock played on his face. "I'm his daughter," I clarify, smiling once again.

"Oh. I was worried for a second," he breathes out. I tilt my head to look at him.

"Why would you be worried?" I question. He finally pulls his skates off his feet and replaces them with a beat-up pair of air force 1s. Sitting so close to him gives me the opportunity to really look at his face. He has a strong jawline, with defined cheekbones and a beautiful side profile. His hair was a similar shade to mine, and it was parted down the middle. But his most shocking feature was his icy blue eyes; from far away, they looked brown, but up close, they were a beautiful light, frost blue.

"Because a pretty girl like you can do much better than a man like him," he admits, turning to place his attention fully on me. I feel the blood rush to my cheeks, and I'm sure it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"That's still my dad, watch your mouth," I say, swallowing down my butterflies. He raises his eyebrows and puts his hand up surrendering.

"You know I meant age, you can do better, age wise," he explains.

"Alright then, how old are you?" I ask boldly.

I can tell my question caught him off guard, but nevertheless, he answers, "I'm 19, you?". I tell him I'm the same age, and he just nods. I don't like his silence. It felt wrong. Hearing his voice felt... right? I quickly think of something else to ask to keep the conversation going.

"So... you haven't been here long, have you?". I'm pulling at strings, but it doesn't matter. He explains that he recently moved to Boston with his family and that he needed to find a new team to join so that he could keep up ice skating, so here he was.

I then asked him about being captain and how the hell he managed to claim that title so quickly. He said something about leadership and blah blah blah. To be completely honest, I wasn't listening; I was too busy drowning in his eyes to hear anything that was coming out of his pretty lips. His lips. They were the perfect shade of pink, and they looked so soft and plump. Fuck. He looked so kissable.

I took another look at his face, a dusty pink had settled onto his cheeks, and the beads of sweat that were previously on his forehead had dried down. Every now and again, he'd also rake his hand into his scruffy hair, trying to adjust it, and every time he did do that, I'd nearly melt. He looks edible.

"Are y'even listening?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. I'm slapped back into reality when I realised that I was, in fact, not listening.

"Um..totally...?" I reply. I didn't even convince myself, let alone him.

"What're you thinkin' about?" He asks. He doesn't even care that I wasn't listening. He cares more about what was occupying my mind instead of being pissed about what was coming out of his mouth.

That's a rare trait that many hockey players do not have. Self-awareness. That the world doesn't spin around them. But little did he know that it did spin around him because even though I wasn't paying attention to him speaking, I was only focused on him.

"..nothing," I answer, moving my eyes to the floor, unable to keep eye contact with him.

"Right... well, it was fun talking, but I gotta shower," he says, standing from the bench and looking down at me. No. I didn't want him to leave, but at the same time, the thought of hot water streaming down his soapy body was doing things to me. I feel my underwear dampen at the thought, I push my legs together, and his eyes skip down to my thighs.

He smirks before speaking again, "you know where to find me if you need," and with that, he made his way to the showers.

I went to find my dad, who was wrapping himself back up in his coat, to fight the weather. I tell him that I might actually go for a skate and that I'll make my way home soon. But in reality, I was going to go hunt down his best player.

I waved my dad goodbye and checked around the rest of the building for the rest of the team, but it seemed that they had already left. This is perfect.

I pushed the door to the showers open, and there's a running one. I slowly approach it until I'm standing behind the curtain. Holy shit. The only thing between me and his naked body was a sheet of fabric. What would happen if-

"Were you planning to just stand there quietly, or were you going to say something?" He speaks. My face instantly blushes, how the fuck did he know I'm standing here?

The water abruptly stops, and a few seconds later, the curtain is drawn back. To my disappointment, there was a white, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist. However, a pretty noticeable outline was pressed into the towel.

He spots me quite obviously staring at his groin. "Something you want?" He asks, grabbing another smaller towel and rubbing it onto his hair, drying it slightly.

At this point, my pussy is throbbing. Every word that comes out of his mouth adds another layer of wetness to my panties.

I nodded at his question before lowering myself to my knees. Now, this he didn't anticipate. I cringe at the feeling of the wet patches on my jean-covered knees.

A smirk grows on his lips, "you wouldn't be able to handle it,". Pfft, I'm yet to meet a man whose dick is bigger than their ego.

"Try me," I challenge. He gives me the nod of approval, and I tug the towel off his hips, letting it fall to the ground.

Well. I guess I've met the man whose dick is bigger than his ego now. Let's just say he has a very, very big ego.

I'm taken by surprise when his cock slings free and hits his stomach. I look up at him, and there's hints of desperation plotted on his face.

"How bad do you want me to suck it?" I speak sultry, placing my hands on his thighs, not giving him the relief he craves.

"So fucking bad," he admits, allowing his right hand to move to the back of my head, inching my face towards his tip. I then grab the base of his dick, pumping it painfully slow, watching beads of pre-cum build on his tip.

I stick my tongue out ever so slightly and go to lick up the salty beads that have accumulated. While I'm there, I place a few soft kisses on his swollen tip. By now, his head is thrown back, and his hand is tangled in my hair.

"Shit," he breathed out. I looked back up at him, and his eyes were shut and eyebrows furrowed. He looked so beautiful. I bring my mouth closer and barely take him in my mouth, sucking lightly.

I then ease more and more of himself into my mouth until my nose is almost pressed up against his pubic bone. I low groan escapes his lip. I then pull him out completely, and he shudders at the loss of contact.

"Please, just make me feel good," he pleads. God, could this man get any sexier?? I instantly comply and take him into my mouth, hollowing out my cheeks. I move my head back and forth, engulfing his cock. He fills my mouth perfectly.

I then bring the hand that's not resting on his thigh to his balls. I slightly toy and message them, and the sound that left his lips was heavenly. I take him out of my mouth again and move lower to suck on his balls. He's lost all sense of composure at this stage.

"I n-need to cum... please, please, please," he moans while I move back to his cock. This time, I wrap my lips around him and take a hand to stroke him simultaneously. He bucks his hips forward, forcing me to take most of his length down my throat. It's not long until I feel his legs becoming weak and his moans grow in volume.

He places both his hands on either side of my head, "keep still and let me fuck your perfect throat," he grunts out, and I let him do just that. His tip hit the back of my throat over and over, making me gag on his cock, but this just encouraged him to keep going.

"F-fuck, you're doi-fuckkkk, doing so so g-good for me," he stutters. I can tell he's on the edge of euphoria and I moan around his cock to help him reach satisfaction. I feel his warm, bitter cum shoot down my throat. His hips are slowing down, and he lets go of the side of my head. I swallow his cum completely, sticking my tongue out to show him.

"You're amazing," he huffs out, helping me up from my knees.

"I know, I am pretty great," I grin. I then look down and notice the uncomfortable wet patches on my knees. He notices my discomfort and offers his spare pair of sweatpants, and I dont decline.

Once we're both dry and changed, he offers me a ride home, acknowledging the fact that everyone had already left a very long time ago. The ride home is enjoyable and not awkward at all, which was unexpected. I then realise that we did all of that but I don't even know his name, and I never told him mine.

"What's your name?" I ask, turning to look at him. He was focused on the road.

"Matt. What's your name, pretty girl?" He asks. I blush at the nickname, before responding.

"Y/n, but I prefer pretty girl," I smile. He turns his head to look at me with the same smile played on his lips.

★ ° . *　　°　.　°☆ 　. * ● ¸. 　　　★ 　° :. ★　 * •

a/n; next post is gonna be regarding a taglist, so make sure to keep updated if you want to be added to that. anywayy, thank you for reading this oneshot, love you all 💙

[leenfiend]

ok first of all i remembered that if I like a character dynamic that doesn't exist i can literally just make it

so open for my long winded OC rant

i don't have long. a work task awaits me. literally have to pause my music to focus in on this. starting off we have daniel.

these were first outfit explorations for him before I decided that I didn't want a modern normal story so disregard the fits but the attitude is there. Daniel works at like a tavern in this small town. He probably had dreams of bigger things at some point, but life is pretty chill how it is and he has his best friend Josie, so what more could he want?

Okay well he does want to date Josie but, he's willing to take his time on that. They've been best friends for like, ever. Surely she's going nowhere and doing nothing that doesn't involve him.

This is Josie, who wants to go anywhere else and do everything. I think she knows Daniel likes her but she's relatively aromantic is my thought. She literally just wants to go out into the world and do shit. Fight, steal, adventure, whatever it is. People from their village don't really tend to do much besides farm and drink beer so she's your typical "I gotta get out of this place" kinda girl. Good for her.

I don't have as many drawings of this guy but this is Victor, leader of the village gang or vigilante group or whatever. They think they're tough shit but they deal with the goofiest small town crimes ever like, making sure the river isn't over fished. Or threatening the baker when he stops making cinnamon raisin bread. Josie joins up with them in the hopes of finding adventure. Daniel is supremely displeased. Victor and Daniel hate each other immediately (big surprise) and Victor constantly flirts with Josie to annoy Daniel. Josie literally does not gaf. She pushes the vigilante group to try something bigger than they have before, or something. I'm still brewing. But long story short they try robbing a carriage passing through town. Turns out the carriage is driven by this crazy powerful wizard. The wizard poofs Josie away, kidnapping her and telling the group they'll never see her again or something. But the real kicker is none of them even knew magic was real before this. We were inside a normal ass medieval town until just then. Shenanigans ensue. Victor and Daniel must team up to find Josie, taking on the big world and discovering the existence of the supernatural and strange along the way etc etc.

here's a comic page of Daniel and Josie talking and some more random sketches. I'll probably delete this at some point in case I want to make the whole story LOL but there you have it. kind of. very half baked rn.

[dreamwreaver]

I don't really have many friends to talk about this theory with, so I'm just typing to get this out of my head !!

I've seen a post bring up a point of how the HH team is pushing Alastor is an asexual and on the spectrum a lot, and there's a theory that, that may hint to something romantic happening in the show? I've seen others be like Lilith, Luci, or Rosie, but tbh idk think it's either of those three. Rosie seems more platonic, I think it's cute but I doubt it romantic, the other two according to Vivzie are in love.

For Vox, I feel like something romantic happened in the past which means = complicated, maybe one sided?

If it's actually something they're doing, it's probably Charlie. Maybe like a love triangle thingy?

Also If Alastor helped Vox in the past, maybe there's parallels between Vox and Charlie? 🤔

Back on the relationship bit, I've seen theories, hints and the things Viv personally put out that sort of hint to Charlastor or maybe I'm delusional.

Alastor seems to have a thing for blondes from Zoophobia, if Viv is keeping some of his lore. But that's sort of broad.

Charlie likes someone dark and mysterious, he does basically anything for her without needing to and don't really mind if she touches him, hold his microphone, and he pretty much climbs over her like a tree, Charlie defends him from her own family, friends, girlfriend, etc and they both share the same sense of humor. I think the real telling will be if Seviathan ever gets introduced. maybe.

The voice actors/team I noticed are.... very quiet about Charlastor, aside from showing prints. But sometimes open about RadioApple, Huskerdust, etc and apparently I saw a post that allegedly Charlie's voice actor ships Charlastor too, according to a fan. 🤔 Of course the whole 'tension bit' too

Idk I feel like, if it's something that's going to happen maybe they don't want it getting out or spoiling a season or episode. Idr think Charlastor fans drawing art on Viv's birthday, etc would stop that. But I am scared of the reaction of it was something planned

I just know though if Charlie was a guy, the ship wouldn't get much backlash/hate and be recognized as Al has a crush and toxic yaoi. Idk The way how Alastor acts towards Charlie is how villains act when they have a crush/"interested"/etc, they are very touchy/feely

Okay those was my thoughts, I had to get out !!

Firstly my sweet nonny consider this my official invitation to join me and other feral shippers in my charlastor discord. We'd love to have someone else to theorize with.

Second you've hit every nail on the head. We definitely know Vox and Alastor have a history of vague information but definite vibes. Look, there's no straight explanation for the amount of hatred Vox harbors towards Alastor. This has jilted suitor all over it. As for Alastor's feelings on the subject, well that's more complicated now isn't it? The few things we do know concerning Alastor's interpersonal stuff is that he hates 1. Men 2. Being touched without his explicit consent, and possibly 3. Being captured on film or video. In the dartboard we do see Alastor in a more relaxed posture as he stands next to whom we can only assume is Vox. Now, Alastor demonstrating that level of comfort speaks to how much trust he has in the person he's standing next to. And if Vox caught feelings and was rejected everything we know about his character seems to indicate he went full "Well who would want you anyways?" And when Alastor continued to go on within his afterlife completely unbothered it only irritated Vox even more.

Charlie would be the only glaring weak point Alastor has. While he may remain unaffected on the outside the fact that he's choosing to help out with the hotel at all is bad, as is the fact that it's run by the devil's little princess. And as a fellow overlord Vox knows the sheer amount of power and prestige Alastor could gain by making some sort of a deal with Charlie. The goal is also his weakness is the logic there. It's only natural Vox would try to get in between Alastor and Charlie as a way to tick off Alastor. In canon I'm not entirely sure how vaggie would react, since even if Charlie did ditch al for vox it would be trading one unscrupulous overlord for the other. (Ask me about vaggie sometime I can promise you I have a LOT of thoughts on how dirty she was done). In a weird way I ship radiobelle static? Perhaps more like radiobelle silence; where vox tried to woo Charlie just as a means of beating Alastor only to oops catch feelings just like the radio demon did. Charlie and al in that scenario also become a couple while vox becomes the third wheeliest third wheel to ever ignore the mood in the room.

As for the in canon dynamic, they're not setting up nothing. Alastor literally makes deer mating noises around her, those soft little squeaky toy noises? Yeah, that's deer mating sounds. Shes his exception, even if it never becomes canon in a romantic sense Charlie is going to become his most important person. Alastor liking blondes did carry over, I refuse to believe Rosie isn't an icy blonde, she's a blonde, so is Mimzy, and now Charlie. Maybe it's an asthetic thing, then again I believe the 20s focused a lot on blondes as glamorous and beautiful so that might have something to do with it. Anyways, Charlie's ideal man was once that sound bite from a sitcom where she describes the phantom of the opera, Viv has stated that Charlie and alastor's shared sense of humor is lonely island's Mona Lisa song. There is so much between the two of them that just makes sense. And it's not like Viv hasn't showed us she has a thing for royal and lower class. Stolitz is endgame canon and Charlie and alastor's ranks are literally mirrored. I'm sorry but even as a fallen Angel Vaggie would rank higher than the average sinner in terms of hierarchy.

My tinfoil hat theory is that it wasn't people who actually liked charlastor who harassed Viv to make it canon. It was antis, of course that would assume they're smart enough to employ this level of thinking. But, most normal fans (you know what I mean) wouldn't harass a creator because we know basic fandom ettiquite. Now what group of fans do we know has no problem harassing fans, actors, and literal showrunners to get their way? Again, this is me conspiracy boarding don't take it seriously.

I think the actors are just that; actors. Is it nice to know they share our ship? Sure, but it's not going to make me stop shipping it if they say it makes them uncomfortable. Art from artist and all that. We know Amir ships Charchar, which I now take to be pilot Charlie/show Charlie because it's funny. I know Erika once allegedly said something about royal Apple not knowing it was charcifer but that's it as far as her ships go. But I mean... come on, look at the promotional art of these two, they just fit. Charlastor was supposed to be an element of the story because Viv wanted to explore Charlie's bisexuality on screen by having her have crushes on men and women, including Alastor, but ultimately end up with a girl. But can you imagine the tension of Charlie trying to be professional if that had been the case? Delicious.

Also, let's be real, we do know how popular charlastor would be if it was gay because it's already the most vocally popular non canon ship. Radioapple is just gay charlastor and no I will not be taking any arguments about it. Charlie and Lucifer look the same, have the same awkward tendencies, the same sort of power appeal for someone like Alastor, etc. Charlie is very much her father's daughter. You can't even have an announcement about Chaggie merch without them whining in the comments about when they'll get their merch, the radioapple title got removed from the streamily print and they acted like they were the most abused and targeted part of the fandom when in reality they're the most toxic and vindictive.

Charlastor; we were talking about charlastor. Truth be told nonny I know a thing or two about narrative construction. Charlie and Alastor are the main characters, they're the most important narratively out of the core six. Their diametrically opposed views on redemption are a driving through line. Alastor now having to admit that it is possible to redeem a demon even though we have no concrete evidence of what Pentious did so that Charlie can replicate the success is an interesting concept to open season 2 with at the very least.

[fr4nkoce4n]

JUST FRIENDS! | matt rempe

in which charlotte hughes works for the ny rangers and goes matching with her brothers enemy.

warnings: fluff, mean brothers a little, allusions to be naked.

note: should i made this a series??

song- just friends, hayden james

nyrangers

liked by, jackhughes, quinnhughes, lukehughes, and 127,00 more.

caption: @/mattrempe & @/charliehughes 🤠🤠🤠

load comments….

user777: oh I just know the Hughes brothers are gonna be rioting tonight…

ellenhughes: so cute ❤️

mattrempeismyhubby: I’m crying wtf

useriiyo: there is no way they are dating, they have to be just friends.

userjdhydy: they just broke the internet and they don’t even realised it😀😀

—

hughes family group chat ❤️❤️

jacky

CHARLOTTE GRACE HUGHES

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?????

mamma

jack stop swearing

lukey

what is going on

quinny

have you not seen her and matt rempe matching costumes??

lukey

WHAT?!??! CHARLIE????

jacky

THE SWEARING IS NEEDED MA, THIS IS A SERUOUS SITUATION!!!

mamma

I think they are cute❤️

papa

are they dating? char?

charlie

you guys are ridiculous, me and matt are not dating. we are JUST FRIENDS. trust me, now goodnight Im going to get drunk with my friends.

mamma

have fun sweet girl be safe xx

jacky

she’s lying

lukey

Defo

quinn

stfu and leave her be

—

“you okay?” matt asked as he saw charlotte slump into her chair.

“yeah just my brothers being ridiculous.” she sighed putting her phone into her back pocket.

matt took the seat next to her and handed her a vodka infused drink, she took it immediately and downed almost half of it.

“woah slow down there cowgirl, we have work tomorrow.” he took the glass from her hands and placed it on the bench in front of them.

“it’s just my brothers are so up in my business it’s so fucking annoying.” charlie groaned rubbing her face with her hands.

“sorry that’s my fault, it was my idea to go matching..” matt shrugged shyly.

she let out a chuckle and grabbed his hand and placed in her lap, lacing their fingers together. “trust me im so happy we went matching, we look so cute!”

that bought a slight blush to matt’s cheeks and it honestly made the butterflies in his stomach stir.

from the moment charlie started working at the rangers, matt had a crush on her. but she always knew that she was off limits considering her brothers played for the enemy team.

charlie was the most flirtatious person ever, so that didn’t really help matt’s problem. but he couldn’t tell if she was really flirting with him or that’s just how she was.

their hands still intertwined she pulled him into the dance floor where quick and his wife danced in their matching costumes.

matt hesitantly put his hands up above her waist but she grabbed his hands dragging them down to he waist. a blush broke out on charlies face, she was so glad it was dark on the dance floor so he couldn’t see her.

charlie would never admit she did have a crush on matt, because it would never work. she couldn’t date someone who played on the team she worked for.

work was for strictly work, not messing around with a 6’9 giant who was gorgeous.

charlie leaned into his figure her hands now wrapped his waist too.

many people were definitely staring, but they couldn’t care.

by the end of the night charlie was a little bit more then tipsy but not drunk. it was 1am and matt was talking with jacob, all char wanted right now was for matt to take her home, in a non sexual way.

she sat in a seat scrolling through her phone and pulled up her moms contact.

-

mamma ❤️❤️

hi mummy are u awake

yes char

you okay baby girl?

yes, i just think I like matt

aww Im happy, you two look good together

no mom this is bad! we work together and I think the boys would all kill me, especially jack he would honestly hate me

they could never hate you charlie

at the end of the day it comes down to you and what your heart wants sweetie, no one else has a say in what you feel. and if your brothers are the ones that have something to say, I will knock some sense into them.

thank you mummy, im going to go home now, love you goodnight💝

goodnight charlie bear be safe, i love you too ❤️❤️

-

“hey you ready to go?” matt asked as charlie quickly hid her phone. he let out a chuckle, “what was that?”

“what was what? nothing…. nothing. come on let’s go!” she grabbed his hand and they walked outside.

he started walking and she stood their confused, turning around her spoke, “what?”

“did you order an Uber?” she questioned pulling her brows together.

“no silly, i didn’t drink. my car is down the road.” he laughed and signalled for her to follow.

charlie quickly followed him and caught up.

once the two made it to the car, charlie immediately leaned back into the seat and let her eyes close.

alcohol always made her tired, no matter what.

matt stared at the girl who was now dead asleep as he pulled up to a red light.

he drove to charlies apartment without even thinking about, he pulled up out the front and she woke up instantly as they stopped.

“oh yay home.” she slurred, obviously the nap did not help sober her up.

he laughed and got out the car to help her upstairs. once they made it into her apartment he poured her a glass of water and grabbed her some pain killers while she got changed.

matt walked into her room to see charlie in a oversized devils shirt and she definitely just had underwear on underneath.

he placed the two things on the side table and tucked her into bed. “night charlie.”

“matt…” she whispered, with her eyes closed.

“yes?”

“can you stay please?” she pouted now opening her eyes.

a smile broke out on his face. “i don’t know if i can if your wearing that top…” he laughed.

“i’ll take it off!” she almost screamed and begin to pull up her top but he pulled it down before it could go any further.

“im just joking char of course i’ll stay.” he laughed. he looked down at his clothing, “is it okay if i sleep in my boxers?” he asked cautiously.

“im in a g string matt, yes.” she laughed.

he pulled off his clothes and jumped into bed next to her, she immediately pulled him close to her and laid her head upon his chest.

charlotte hughes was going to be the death of matthew rempe.

[shardechance]

𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔤𝔢 𝔤𝔦𝔯𝔩

ao3 link | playlist | detailed content warnings | masterlist

parts: 𝐈 𝐈𝐈 𝐈𝐈𝐈 𝐈𝐕 𝐕

pairing: feyre/mor

rating: explicit

wc: 7.9k (pt 1)

warnings: major character death, cannibalism

Self-proclaimed 'BFFs' and high school seniors Mor and Feyre have definitely had fights before, but none as bad as the night at the bar when Mor is forced to leave Feyre behind in the rather dubious hands of her distantly related cousin and wannabe rockstar. Mor fully expects to make it up to Feyre the next day, except her best friend doesn't show. Nearly one full week later, Mor is so overjoyed to see Feyre again that she is blind to all the strange new things about her crush--er, friend. Namely, that Feyre suddenly seems to have developed some rather peculiar tastes. That, and she's hot as hell.

[FREAK WEEK DAY 3 - PART 1]

read on ao3 or proceed below for small snippet.

“You think he’s bald?” 

The paper straw flattens between the press of Feyre’s lips, half soggy from how she keeps worrying it between her teeth. That, or the fact that it's been soaking up the same offensively flat Diet Coke for the last half hour since the band finished their set. They tried for something stronger, but the black crosses emblazoned on the backs of their hands were unfortunately doing their job of signaling to Jurian not to slip them any vodka, this time.

They’ve been watching the band pack away their instruments and file into the lounge behind the bar, a pitcher of beer and three pint glasses set out for them in a corner booth. A folded sheet of paper reading RESERVED in blocky script, sitting limply on the table.

Mor looks up from her phone, Instagram promptly forgotten in favor of whatever the hell caused Feyre to ask that question. “What?”

Rolling her eyes, Feyre nudges her chin towards the bar. The delicate twitch of one eyebrow has Mor turning, more bodily than she might like. There’s no such thing as subtlety in places like these. The guy in question looks even bigger up close—broad as he is tall, with arms thick as tree trunks and swirled with tribal tats. Mor struggles for his name, despite having just sat through their entire discography in a room with worse acoustics than their high school bathroom and blown-out speakers. 

“Under that beanie,” Feyre says, by way of explanation. The straw bypasses her lips entirely, and she irritatedly flings the limp wet thing from her glass to discard it on the sticky table. Probably not the worst thing that’s ever been placed on it. The nachos here have food poisoning written all over them. “He looks like he could be bald. Seems the type, you know? Like, did too many steroids on the high school wrestling team and now he’s paying the price?”

A reminder suddenly pings from her phone on the tabletop, interrupting a reel of someone from their year showing all the Homecoming dresses she decided not to buy. They’re all ugly, the dresses. Not that Mor’s is any better—the only one her dad had allowed her to buy. 

Ten minutes. Fuck.

“Feyre, for one second, can you be serious? My curfew is at eleven.” She doesn’t mean to snap, but Feyre knows how her dad gets. How strict he can be about grades and curfews. How little fucks he gives about everything else. 

“I don’t want to go just yet,” she whines, eyes following the unfathomably buff drummer back to his table and the two other guys sitting there. Mor watches as the big dude lines a shot in front of each of them, layered liquors starting to merge into a brown mush. They knock them back without so much as a wince. Mor is suddenly very grateful for her soda, even if it’s lost all the carbonation.

The only guy she recognises, Rhysand Sterling, catches them staring and waves. That quick flick of his wrist turns into a come over type gesture. Two fingers beckoning them forward. 

“You know him, right?” Feyre poses the question as if she doesn’t already know the answer. As if she hasn’t seen the one picture her father has of her in the living room. Taken at one of his firm’s Christmas parties, of course. Rhysand, a couple years her senior, had gone by Rhys back then. 

“Feyre, we have to go,” Mor reminds her, grabbing onto her wrist. She stares dejectedly at the side of Feyre’s face, deflating when she notes the way she seems to have perked up, eyes constantly flitting to the guy sitting at the table. Mor’s cousin. Twice removed, or something.

“It’s fine! We should just say hi!” She stands, neatly pushing in her stool but still well within Mor’s reach. She slips her hand into Mors, using it as leverage to tug Mor behind her, and crosses towards the booth. Maybe she notices how reluctant Mor is by the way she drags her feet, and Feyre offers the incentive, “Besides, it’ll drive Eris crazy.”

Oh, Mor doubts that very highly.

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