#i have too many thoughts on this i need to chill

[h5eavenly]

Stargirl - han jisung.

A small birthday present for my favorite person @stargirl-gigi <3 i love you so much more than words could ever explain and i'm so thankful for your existence. Happy birthday my love 🤍🤍

11:50 P.M

The screen of your phone stares back at you, glaringly bright in the darkness of your own room. It’s nearly midnight, hours treading towards the end of your birthday and you tell yourself you should be lolling into sleep by now. And yet it’s persisting in its visit. It feels unjust, specifically after spending almost the entirety of your day outside. Your laughter filling the streets with happiness and surrounded by the love infused chatter of your friends. So much love.

Albeit the moment you stumbled into your bed it’s like today was nothing more than an imagination that you had swiped through without much thought. There’s bitterness that lingers in your mouth, a longing forcing your heart to weep out in pathetic unanswered callings. You crack open your window, ushering the moonlight in and pretend you don’t know what your heart is crying for.

It's all deemed worthless the moment your phone dings – with a ringtone you had set specifically for him – You have told yourself you should change it multiple times. Tried to convince yourself that you shouldn't back yourself in a corner with how specially different you treat him.

Alas here you are.

11:55 P.M

Your eyes widen ever so slightly, your heart picking speed and you curse yourself for the anticipation coursing through your fingers. Urging you to peek at your phone, to feed the gaping hole pulsating in the middle of your chest. An ever so foolish yearning heart. And perhaps the moonlight is only another witness to you kicking your pride under your bed, and perhaps it will cackle at you if it ever spoke, perhaps the way it shines brighter once you sit up and reach for your phone on the bedside table is all in your head.

Jisung: Are you awake?

You don’t reply and he doesn’t say it, but you know, you always know and so when you’re out of your bed and opening the door to your apartment next. Jisung is standing outside, shrouded in a gray hoodie you have seen him in way too many times. You’re almost breathless when your eyes meet, and you only pray the moon won’t snitch on you. Spilling all your longing throughout the light that infiltrates his dark hair strands and you pray your eyes don’t betray your missing when he smiles with the same bitterness that lingered in you all night.

11:59 P.M

“Happy birthday.” He whispers, softly and tenderly. It’s cruelled in the way it drowns you in the depths of your emotions yet again. Bringing them back to life with newfound intensity and all the cruses you have memorized all day long dwindle down on your tongue. Melting away with all the anger and resentment you have mastered up all these past months you have not seen him.

A braver version of you, one that isn’t stitched together by an aching need for him and an even deeper ache to look at him would slam the door shut in his face. The you right now welcomes him in your space like there’s no other place for him to belong.

Silence is heavy as it paints the air, you awkwardly move the boxes of gifts you have gotten and Jisung lingers behind just as bunglingly. Pushing down his hood and ruffling his hair. Every sound feels intensified; his breathing has chills running down your spine.

“Is that a ghostface action figure?” His tone is woven with excitement, and you follow his gaze.

“Yeah...” You mumble, your tone is heavier than you’d like, and it dims his excitement. You avert your eyes elsewhere, somewhere far from him and yet not far enough it seems because you almost hear your heart screaming for him.

“Looks sick.” He replies, quieter and tinted with suffocation, the same one circling in the air and you let out a breath just as quiet as your eyes find him.

You hold your longing in your throat, in your stomach and the leash of restraint triggers. You closed your eyes, sealed your lips for far too long and right in this moment when he looks back at you, gaze clouded with a different million emotions you’re splitting open. Vomiting heartbreak, sharpened by a feverish urge to have him all to yourself.

“Why weren’t you there?” you ask, and his eyes widen ever so slightly, ever so temporarily as if he wasn’t expecting you to ask. And then a nervous chuckle is pushed out his lips – humorless – as he scratches his neck.

“I was busy working at the studio.” It’s an empty excuse, you know it by now, have known it for the past months he kept uttering it to you over and over again.

“Changbin and Bangchan were there. Everyone else was there but you.” you should let it go. You’re aware digging at this will only ever result in pain and yet you can’t stop not when the clock ticks 12 and you have grown numb from waiting.

“I’m sorry…” He speaks after a few lingering moments of silence and his eyes are drifting, fleeting in their hold onto you. You almost want to scoff. The darkness remains and the moon cackles at you again. His eyes are always running away from you, and you’d rather be buried than yearning.

“I haven’t seen you in months,” you say, wishing it came out as a berate but instead it’s weakened by your eyes – filled with twisted desire – one that feels like you’re not allowed to feel “are you avoiding me?” you ask, pressing for answers, something that will end this suffering of yours, something that will help you not feel like a mere notch of time.

“I’m really sorry.” This time you scoff out loud and you wish for answers rather than apologies. It’s why you’re kneeling into silence that doesn’t stretch long enough for you to gather up your emotions and lock them up.

You have kept yourself locked away for so long so why tonight of all times seems to feel like a failing task. An impossible one that you cannot seem to master.

“Do you just not want me in your life anymore?” you whisper, looking down and chewing on your bottom lip as if you’re afraid the louder your voice will get the harsher the truth tumbling out his lips will be. The harsher they will cut.

You’d rather be buried than yearning.

Because truth is you have been in love with Jisung for as long as you remember. You belonged to him the moment you laid eyes on him and haven’t been able to take back your pieces ever since. Not that you wished to anyways. It was a scary feeling, inflating so big inside of you as if it was always there, as if it just needed the sunray to bloom and his smile was all it took. Before you knew it your heart felt deserted without him and love for him exists within you like the lines across your palms. And yet you’re so scared to look at him and witness your worst nightmares come to life. It’s one that you thought of a lot of times before, one that had you curling up in anxiety and calling for him alone; losing him.

It's the sole reason you sacrificed your soul. Stamped with foolish lies like being friends with him as if you hadn’t looked at him with the devotion of a lover.

In a mere moment Jisung has closed the distance between you two, a look of betrayal on his face as if he can’t believe what you said and you wonder why he’s stepping on your heart as if you just didn’t offer it to him.

“How could you say that?” his eyes are widened with a tempest of confusion and when your eyes dart between his, the air feels heavier as it travels through your lungs. The space between you two is not small enough and yet you’re closer to choking than anything “How could you say that to me I- holy fuck do you even realize – “his words are tangled and messy like wildflowers. Scattered and lost with meaning, direction and it’s thanks to the way you keep looking up at him so softly. His ribcage tightens around his heart, and he lets out a breath “I wrote you a song.”

“What?” your brows furrow and he runs his hand through his hair. Something akin to frustration coming to life in the knot between his.

“I wrote you a song because I couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you and now you – “ he stops himself and your heart starts beating impossibly fast, a song that’s only ever breathed to life whenever you’re around him and you feel your longing, yearning explode. Spreading across your face and seeping into your eyes and they’re begging “Never mind.” He breaths, rushed and draping its disappointment on you “I should go i- I don’t know.”

Before you have enough time to gather a singular word that he said he’s already turning away from you. Your feet are glued to the ground with strives to wrap your head around the mess you two seem to constantly find yourselves in. A beat, then a second and for an evanescent split second you wonder if you should let him go. If perhaps all these bent up feelings that have been collecting are nothing but a rope of poison slowly strangling you to death. But rather anything you’re a slave to your heart.

What are you if not over loving, over feeling?

By the time you’re after him, hand curled around his wrist it is already too late, Jisung has a part of you and you’re shaking your head.

“Don’t go.” You tell him and his expression breaks into the same longing you watch in the mirror every passing moment he’s not here “Stay and tell me. Sing me your song.” You say, ask, wish, pray and it’s all between your teeth. All these wishes you have been keeping score of and it is too late.

Your touch burns his wrist, and his own charade falls apart faster than your blink of an eye. It’s like the minute you touch him everything is crumbling and he’s no longer pressing down on his neck to keep it together. In his dreams you’re a secret he can’t tell anyone about but right now he’s backing you into the nearest wall with his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing he had the pleasure of touching. The world narrows down to nothing but the ringing of your heartbeat in your ears and his shaky breaths. The space between your lips is almost nonexistent and you’re exchanging breaths like a drowned soul coming up for air.

“You have no idea what you do to me. Do you?” he whispers and it’s not really a question rather a declaration. Pulled from the depths of his being and you welcome it with warmth.

“Jisung..” your hot breath is fanning across his lips and he swallows back nothing, feel your eyes squeeze the last drop of sanity he was holding onto. He rests his forehead against yours “Shh. Shh” His hand slowly travels from your cheek to your palm, holding it tenderly and placing it atop where his heart is

“Can you feel that?” he asks breathlessly, gaze pouring into yours as you feel his wild heartbeat reverberates against your palm. A stranger urge to tattoo every beat into your essence has your eyes softening.

“Yes.” You whisper back timidly and then you’re leaning closer, nose brushing against his “Me too.” You tell him, closing your eyes “I feel the same.”

“No.” He shakes his head, squeezing your palm on his chest “You don’t understand. What I feel for you is- nothing like a human can feel. It’s something out of this world. I-“ A labored breath, and his fingers tremble around your cheek that only could be an evidence of love, such yearning. It drips from his eyes when you look at him “You make me want to rearrange the stars and place you in between them.” He confesses and the way your eyes fill with tears quickly could only be an unveiling of your own feelings, laced with something so you, something he’s so addicted to.

Jisung has never been good at speaking his feelings but you, you make him want to try and fail only to try again, only to spill your name across every star. Scribble your words into every poem and there’s no love if not for you.

“All I think about is you – all I think about is loving you. you have consumed me completely. I don’t know –“ he’s drawing you closer, his heartbeat accelerating as his lips almost touch yours “I don’t know what it’s like not to love you and I’m scared I’m gonna regret this. I’m scared I’m gonna scare you away but fuck-”

“You will never scare me away Jisung.” Your mumbles are comfort spreading its wings across his chest and he shakes his head again with a strangled huff, pushed out with deafened ears and an overwhelming intensity that wraps around his fragile heart.

“I don’t think you understand I don’t think you’re listening to me – “

“I am Jisung. I am listening.”

“No, no.” he cradles your face closer to his with a shush. Both of you are breathing heavily as if oxygen have been sucked from the room, fled somewhere unreachable if not between your mouths “I love you. do you know what that means? Do you know what it’s like to stop talking to you for months in hopes of forgetting you? only to end up feeling like a fucking loser because I can’t write anything if it’s not about you? do you understand?” there’s desperation woven in his tone, tinting his gaze when he finally captures yours and then they’re softening like melted candle wax.

Like a blazing fire, burning for you and you thread your fingers through the spaces between his, right atop his heart. If you listen closely, you swear you could hear whispers – callings of your name.

“I understand.” You smile and it blankets his being with warmth, his stars shine brighter “I feel the same.” You whisper hoarsely against his lips and right before your eyelids fall shut, he sees the moon glistening and he finally surrenders, closing the space between you two and interlocking his lips with yours.

It’s unhurried – tender as if the time of the world is in the palm of his hands and he can bend it to his will. A sweetness spreads throughout your limbs, like honey despite the salty rivulets of tears across your cheeks.

“Say it.” He murmurs between kisses, whiny and desperate as he presses you further into the wall, wishing he could melt his body onto you, wanting, no, knowing he’s nothing but a part of you “Tell me you feel the same.”

“I love you too,” you tell him and for the first time in a long time you feel touched and not harmed. For the first time you don’t need to swallow down his name but rather speak it into the world because the sun will not shine, this night shall last for an eternity.

“Again,” he asks, pulling back enough to rest his forehead against yours. His heart aches not in despair for you but in prayers that this isn’t some stupid dream of his and if he did somehow only have you in his dream he hopes to never wake up.

“I love you.” you answer with your thumb swiping across his cheek, and he shudders.

“Again. Tell me again.” His chest heaves and you understand, how one lifetime isn’t close to enough “Please tell me again.” Your hands are gentle on him, they move like water and when you lean forward pressing kisses into his cheek, trailing a map of affection that leads to his mouth and then you’re kissing him once, twice and the third comes with a whisper, a promise.

“I love you Jisung.”

He stays and just like you had hoped night feels like it stretches long enough for him to imprint every word of love on every part of your skin. The walls of your bedroom memorize every sound, every whisper and when you’re drifting to sleep with your head buried in the crook of his neck. He’s humming a song; your song and you’re too drowned in exhaustion to focus really, yet the lyrics echo in your mind over and over again. A lullaby that has your heart singing along and your essence tangling with his.

My heart’s gone out of it,

I wander the streets in search of something I can’t find

But then you are here, and I am with you

There you are, my Stargirl.

[eldritch-spouse]

Fucking robot. Why does he always bother me during breaks? He doesn't even need breaks.

“Hi Xavier. Was there something that you needed?”

You know he likes you because he bothers to address you by your name. As opposed to a serialized string of numbers and letters.

The numbers before your shift code and initials make you wonder just how many of them there were before you. How many he tossed away after an unfortunate workplace accident. That tag on your uniform is more of a death sentence than anything.

'Like'... As if this tin can is actually able of feeling.

It's more realistic to say he sees value in you, for some reason, and employs some kind of social algorithm to fabricate a twisted sort of relationship.

" You have been consistently distracted lately. "

Is that a warning?

Two red abyss-like orbs cast a crimson filter upon your face. It always feels like Xavier is watching you a little too closely, monitoring more than just your verbal responses.

" Ah, my bad! " You force a wobbly smile. " I promise it doesn't get in the way of my wo- "

" It does. " He silences you immediately, imposing and unforgiving in his cold corrections. " Clients notice when you zone out. Your movement speed is drastically reduced and the chances of committing errors -which you have by now- is considerably increased. Spacing out this much is in no way acceptable behavior for a multitude of... "

Only the very real notion that he's noting your facial expressions stops you from rolling your eyes at the robot's tireless monolog regarding the dangers and consequences of being distracted at work. One of your eyes still manages to twitch, as if in defiance.

" Yes sir, I understand. " You try to cut in, try to abort that speech before it turns into a whole lecture.

One camera cranes down slightly. " Your reputation as the exemplary employee is being damaged. "

Xavier says this like it should make you anxious. You hate that he thinks of you as an example, that he emphasizes it constantly. Not only is it putting unnecessary pressure on you for no compensation, it's also costing you the few mild friendships you have worked to maintain in this hostile minefield of an environment.

The more he speaks of you as some ideal of professionalism, the more others give you judgemental side-eyes. Sneers. Avoid you. Spread snide comments that then find their way to you through gossip.

Maybe if Xavier stopped exalting your mediocre performance, your asshole coworkers would stop murmuring that you've been orally pleasing the glorified microwave.

Xavier doesn't even have a dick! Why would he?! He's an artifical stand in for a manager that only cares about the dehumanizing process of maximizing profit.

He doesn't have a penis. You think.

You only realize a long silence has installed itself this whole time when the robot breaks it.

" ... Are you ill? "

" Huh- No. No, I just have a lot on my mind. I'll work on it boss. "

There's another pause. This time, you presume Xavier is waiting for you to cave under pressure, or counting the pores on your complexion. You bet he'd know the exact number.

" You have not allowed access to more in-depth medical records. If I had such a permission, I would be able to rework your current shift into something more suitable for any preexisting conditions such as- "

" Uh no sir, no. I don't think that's relevant, it's probably just my sleep schedule. " The thought of Xavier knowing about your health beyond what is strictly necessary for employment is chilling to the core.

He takes the rejection silently, lenses refreshing.

" I know who is bothering you. "

Xavier says, so naturally and spontaneously that you gawk for a moment, forever surprised by his eery bursts of casual remarks.

" ... Pardon? "

These moments make it seem as if there's more than mere cold calculations running through his processor components.

Xavier drifts that much closer to you, now suffocating your personal space. Only the crimson of his camera lenses light the dingy alley you've chosen as your break spot.

" Incubus, Babesley. Masseur. He has self-inflicted carvings on his body consisting of infatuated statements and your name. "

You rattle for a second, the memory of the demon's mutilated chest surfacing, his wild and desperate eyes searching yours for a hint of approval that wasn't there, only disgust and fear.

" Wrathfolk, Mozgrag. Trapper. Teamed up with the incubus upon being confronted, effective in forcing his way to you at any cost. "

Another memory flashes by, burly hands carelessly tearing the horns out of someone's head, he'd look at you when the screams rang, attempting to prove something you only saw as terrifying murderous intent.

Shaken, irritated, afraid, you openly glare at Xavier.

" Why haven't you done anything... " It was too quiet to sound as confrontational as you wished.

There's a split second where his stiff arms twitch, like the machine was trying to roll its shoulders. Cameras tilt and reposition, erroneously assuming the light from his lenses is what's causing you to tear up.

" The customer is always right. " Faintly, or perhaps just in your head, his words sounded dragged out.

" Then what's the problem?! "

You can't help the childish irritation, the desire to pluck your hairs out of your scalp in a pull that might just tear your skin asunder. You want to scream and kick this stupid fucking machine until it shuts off. Why does he bother you during your breaks to ask things that make no sense, to unnerve you, to create contradictions. You've never had a positive interaction with this robot. Why would he mention those two if he seemingly has no problem with their attitudes?

You know he doesn't care, because your coworkers are also living through their own cases of harassment at the hands of the denizens of Hell. You've had to pretend you didn't hear the sound of a cashier's arm being twisted in all the wrong directions before. Reminded that quitting is not an option, that you can only pray such doesn't happen to you.

" Your performance- "

No. Shut up.

" Okay, let's do some math, Xavier. " You growl. " My precious work performance is being impacted by a lot of things, but mainly those two. Those two are customers, and the customer is always right, aren't they? So there's nothing to be done, yeah?! Stop- "

Your confidence begins to falter when you realize you've stepped out of line, that you snapped at your own superior. The fear of consequences flashes very briefly across your eyes. That's enough, you need to calm down. You need to leave.

Xavier's silence doesn't help.

" I'll... I'll be heading back to work now. "

Head hanging low, you attempt to swiftly retreat into work, halted quickly by cold metal wrapping around your arm.

His grip is as frighteningly solid as it is sudden.

You don't remember Xavier having ever touched you before.

When you squirm around to glance at him, ask what he thinks he's doing, those two cameras pin you into silent obedience. You could never hope to free yourself of his grasp, only if you wished to tear a limb out of its socket.

" Do you think I enjoy these limitations? "

There's a mute gasp. Then the pain of his grip tightening, restricting your blood flow into a tingling soreness. Your teeth bare themselves.

" I don't think you enjoy anything at all, machine. "

It was ruthless, yet, deep down, you almost believed it.

Xavier stares at you for another prolonged period of time, unaware that the pain in your arm is only worsening. You have no idea what occurs behind those lenses, what those words might mean to him.

Metallic fingers unclasp with the slowness of a decompressing blood pressure monitor, allowing you to yank your own limb back and hold it to your chest like an animal licking its wounds.

" ... This issue will be resolved. "

He doesn't make a move to follow after you. In fact, Xavier remains staring forward, at the empty space where you once stood.

Maybe you broke him. Who cares, he might give you peace for the rest of your shift.

[emotionalhottiee]

Broken 💔

Jimmy Uso/Jonathan Fatu

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise stated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events in this fanfic are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner.

just a quick oneshot until i get over this writers block. Hope you enjoy.

Heart Broken…

Doesn’t even begin to explain how i feel. How could he do this to us?

Thoughts of frustration and brokenness ran rampant through my mind as hot tears poured down my face. After all i had been through with Jonathan how could he throw away everything we had. My mind ran back to walking into his condo, opening his bedroom door to be met with an image of some ig thot, bent over while the love of my life was behind her. My heart shattered had into a million pieces.

Now the tears I’ve been crying out, for the past 30 minutes have blurred my vision. Thinking about that day against my will. But seeing him tonight made the memory pop up. Even though i knew there was a slight chance he would be at our friends birthday party. Actual seeing him, just felt like another knife being jammed right into my heart.

“Kenzi, are you alright in there?” “You’ve been in this bathroom a long time” my friend Kiara screamed through the door.

I hadn’t even realized i had been in here that long, but i just couldn’t stop crying. Watching Jon strut up in this party with some new girl on his arm. As if the last year and a half meant so little to him, he could move on within days. LITERALLY 5 days ago i caught him in bed with another woman.

And now it’s saturday, and he bought a whole other woman with him. Damn, How many others were there? I thought to myself as i wiped the tears from my bloodshot red eyes. Trying to cover up the fact that i been in the bathroom of a mutal friend of ours,sobbing over this man. What did i ever do to make him be so cold & callous towards me?

I have to pull myself together! I tried to tell myself encouragingly, i am not going to let him see me, so vulnerable. For what? He doesn’t seem to care in the least bit. Too busy fake laughing at the girl with her ass hanging out of her shorts.

He’s knows her ass ain’t that funny.

As i finish up wiping my face, one last time. Before i could even get myself all the way out of the bathroom Kiara yanked my ass into a tight hug. She knew i needed this that’s why she my friend.

“Girl don’t let him make you sad. Fuck him, you deserve so much better.” She calmly stated to me rocking us back & forth. This is exactly what will make my ass start crying again. But i am so thankful for my friend, trying to keep me from being sad.

Against Kiara’s advice i decided to stay at this party. This was one of Jon & I’s mutal friend, I’m not gonna let him feel like he has won (Even though he totally has won).

I put on my bravest face to go back and chill, before our friends pull out a game of taboo. We had split up into two teams and of course i end up on a team with Jon & his whore of the week. It was almost as if God was punishing me for still wanting to be around him. But truth be told i was obsessed with him. I loved him more than the air i breathed.

And as much as i can possibly lie to myself, i know he loves me too.

*some time later*

The party winded down, Kiara & I were helping our friends clean up. Jon’s little girlfriend ended up leaving. I thought they would’ve rode together but i guess not. And I’m honestly kinda happy about that. He’s been staring at me all night. Now that he’s alone i know where this night will take us. Especially since i rode with Kiara.

Jon asked me if i needed a ride home, knowing damn well i don’t like driving at night. I tried to act like i had to go back with Kiara, she gave us a shrug letting us know she didn’t mind. She knew me too well. As much as she wanted me to stand up for myself, she knew where my heart was. And wanting to be there for me she wasn’t gonna fight me on it. I appreciated that. Giving her a hug goodnight she gave me eyes of pleading, but with a hint of be careful. I rubbed her arms up & down letting her know i’d be okay.

The ride back to Jon’s house was quiet at first nothing but low 90s R&B playing. But he eventually turned the music off. He grabbed my hand while holding the steering with his other and apologized for his actions within the last week. My eyes filled up to the brim before a tear rolled down my cheek. I couldn’t even respond. I just held onto his hand, he bought my hand up to his mouth still holding it kissing it ever so gently. This is the soft, caring Jon i feel in love with. For a quick second he looked at me our eyes staring into one another. Until he turned his eyes back to the road.

This is going to be a great night.

[lexicorp]

Transformers Earthspark: Another Place, Another Prison

[screenshot edit thats a bit silly--the maltos are actually generally rather chill even with star being a bit of a lil shit lmao]

This chapter really shoves Starscream into a social gathering with all da peeps for a series of goofy games. Which he roasts the shit out of the majority of the time. He's more into it at the start and gets progressively more drained from it all. It's not as fun if you don't plow the competition after all--XD

just a chap with fun family shenanigans and definitely nothing sus

Previous Chapter: Bee's Good Guy Crash Course

First Chapter: The Need For Read

Next Chapter: Make or Break

Chapter 11: Family Feud

The “Malto Family Game Night”. An intriguing premise. One Bumblebee thought he should drag Starscream into, it seemed, despite the title clearly only set to invite those who are real members of their collective. It even seemed a stretch that the humans and Terrans considered Bumblebee an “honorary” member to begin with. The Terrans, as Earthen cybernetic children, theoretically shared some level of kinship with humans to an extent. As well as apparently being bonded to them on a deeper level. But both he and Bumblebee had no such connection, why should they be roped into human nonsense? 

Why would they allow them to encroach on their little tradition? Perhaps this was some sort of test pertaining to the practice the bug had wanted Starscream to get, after his little lecture. A challenge to see how well Starscream could interact with them. 

Well, for whatever goal the bug had, he certainly could stand a bit of competition. A chance to destroy them at their own ridiculous games? Irresistible. The anticipation of victory, especially one he could lord over the scout later, might just make the growing chaos around him bearable. 

There were too many conversations about too many things being discussed in one room. He’d tried to track a few, but quickly found his audials begin to mute the chatter with a light ringing. If it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from calling them all into order himself.

Finally, Hashtag got everyone’s attention and pointed to the whiteboard that now held doodles of all their faceplates, separated into groups. “Alright fam! The teams we’ve decided on are: Me, J.B, and Nightshade with our name NightTagBreaker! Mom and Dad as Purple. Thrash and Mo as Mash–”

“‘Cause we’re gonna MASH the competition!” Thrash cheered as he smacked servos with his human partner.

Hashtag didn’t even seem fazed by the interruption, and scoffed without a hint of disdain. “We’ll see about that! There’s also Robbie and Twitch–”

“Their team’s name is Twobbie.” Mo said with the most dastardly smirk toward her brother, and a mocking tone to the name.

Robbie and Twitch both stood with crossed arms, the human retorting first with an air of superiority. “Uh no. Our name is Twin Blades!” 

Twitch plucked her swords from her back and twirled them as an example with a proud grin. “We’ve got the blades, and we’re basically twins. And way cooler than Mash.” 

Thrash gasped melodramatically with a servo to his chassis, “How dare you!”

“We’ll see who has the cooler name when we beat you!” Mo shot back with a throw of a digit in their direction. Threats so early in the competition? Bold.

Hashtag edited the name on the board discreetly, then turned to ask, “What’d you guys decide on for your name Bee? I was thinking it could be StarBee or Beam for the combo style like ours–” She gestured to her two partners– “Or BugBird, because y’know, Bee is bug coded and Starscream can fly. OR you could be Primary! Because together you have yellow, red, and blue!”

Starscream took his servo from under his faceplate to tip it at the crowd, straightening his posture with a slight tilt of his helm as he offered confidently, “Why not simply call us The Victors?” He wasn’t exactly thrilled that they had just decided that he was paired with the bug, but that wouldn’t change his plans of total domination over this strange event.

Many of them rolled their optics at Starscream’s proclamation, but Hashtag actually had to stop herself from laughing. Not entirely the correct response. Still, at least she was amused, rather than angered by his insinuation.

Bumblebee shook his helm in a way that Starscream couldn’t tell if he actually disapproved or not. “StarBee is fine, Hashtag.” He determined, then mumbled, “Even if it would be nice if my name was first…”

“Well, you always were more of just the backup, rather than a leader, scout.” Starscream pointed out haughtily. “Obviously my piece of the title would come first.” 

Bumblebee glared at him, “I am not your backup! We’re partners and this is friendly competition! And please try to remember what I was telling you yesterday…” He sounded exasperated. 

Starscream dropped his smirk and crossed his arms to align himself with a more professional posture. “Are you going to disclose the rubric, or will your little test be void of any comprehensible scale like all of your Autobot riddles?”

Bumblebee was about to respond, but the Malto matriarch, Dorothy, interrupted. “No tests. We are not making game night about work again. Right Bee?” The bug nodded, looking rather guilty. “We’re here to have fun.”

“Yeah!” Twitch flew up to meet Starscream’s faceplate, “So don’t you ruin it! Family time is sacred!” 

Starscream leaned slightly toward her, thoroughly unamused. “Yes, how dare I encroach on your ridiculous expression of familial bonding.”

“Okay guys!” Hashtag interjected, “This isn’t exactly supposed to be the mood of this scene. Can we rein it in please?” She looked more at Starscream than her sibling, with a pleading look to her optics. Twitch backed down, as did he. 

“Wonderful!” Nightshade collected a set of cards that seemed to be sized for Cybertronians. “The first game Hashtag and I decided upon from the list of requests, is Uno! Three teams will be in one group, and two in another.”

“Then we shuffle it until every team has had a chance to go against each other!” Hashtag added while shuffling the cards and splitting the deck into two stacks. “First group will be NightTagBreaker, Twin Blades, and Mash; then Purple and StarBee.”

“Would it not make more sense to put the team of three into the group with just two teams?” Starscream asked not as much for some level of fairness, but more in the hopes that he could avoid interacting with Megatron’s little spy. He’d much rather attempt their card game with Hashtag and Nightshade. 

“I mean, maybe, but we’ll get there eventually.” Hashtag gave him an awkward smile, then quickly moved on. Scrap. 

They all took to their tables and dealt the cards. Starscream attempted to read the rules from the little box that was cast aside, but Dorothy’s human conjunx told him that it was apparently quite simple. Same color, same number or action, and you could play your card on your turn. The wild card and plus four were clearly above all the other pathetic actions in the roster. Although the skip option was satisfyingly petty. Starscream managed to skip Bumblebee three times in a row, in fact, which he found hilarious. 

The bug however, was less amused, “We’re supposed to be on the same team! Could you maybe not sabotage me and actually try and collaborate?!”

“Only one of us needs to win to get the credit. I don’t need your help to claim victory over these humans at this silly game.”

“I don’t know about that.” Dorothy tauntingly raised her singular card. “Uno.”

“WHAT?” Starscream’s wings flared and he looked over at the bug’s absurdly large set of cards, then slammed a servo on the table to get his attention. “Unleash a counterattack you fool! You must have something in that embarrassing stack in your servos!”

“Oh look who came crawling back for my help.” The scout hoarded his cards with juvenile snark. 

Starscream stuttered and his optic twitched as he growled through gritted dentas. “Excuse me, but if you don’t we both lose you bit-brained idiot!”

“How about not calling your partner names, and actually asking nicely? Or just working with me instead of acting like I’m still your enemy?”

The bug was a stubborn fool. Ask nicely? Did they expect him to phrase orders as optionary as the Prime did? That’s ridiculous! And of course the bug was still his enemy! How stupid was this mech? Bumblebee had been the first to point a blaster at Starscream in the Titan. Just because the Autobots were acting as if something had changed, didn’t mean anything. This was all just another assignment for the scout. 

Wait…who said that Starscream couldn’t simply take the bug’s cards and do it himself? If they were on the same team, then what did it matter who carried out the move? He didn’t know what stupid arrangement of words they wanted from him. It’d be far easier to–

Starscream forcefully snatched the cards from Bumblebee’s servos in a crimson flash, and slapped down a plus two to destroy the Malto’s hope of victory. He made sure to keep his own remaining two cards safe from getting lost amidst his stolen pile. The bug complained and tossed his servos around before attempting to steal his cards back, as Starscream pushed against his faceplate to hold him off.

Then, Dorothy cleared her throat before crossing her arms. “I win.”

“Wha–HOW?!” Starscream shoved the bug aside before pointing a digit at the human. “You lost your turn and were supposed to gain additional cards as the action dictates! You couldn't have possibly won!” 

Oh, so this fleshling aimed to lecture him now? And since when could actions be placed upon one another as a means of canceling the other out? That made no sense with the rest of the rules! Sure, if you were not at the receiving end and were simply the player that is being skipped towards–but mid-action?? That was ridiculous, she made that up!

Her optical ridge rose and she tapped the card plainly placed upon the one he’d taken from Bumblebee. “My last card was a plus two, and I can stack it on yours. Maybe, you should have actually talked it out with your partner.”

Lightning flickered between his wings. He didn’t lose. She’d only crafted some absurd reason to disguise the fact that she was clearly only attempting to prove some point, and make Starscream look like an idiot. That’s what it was. But he couldn’t do anything about it. The human was Megatron’s little agent. Starscream would be scrapped if he did anything against her. 

Starscream’s optics were burning as he wished again that he could set those blasted cards ablaze with only his processor. This game was just another tool for them to mock him. His vents were the same.

“Chill, it’s not like losing one game is the end of the world. Even if I am definitely blaming this loss, on you. I was just the card draw scrapyard–” Bumblebee was attempting to retrieve the scattered cards, and Starscream reflexively grabbed his wrist and pulled the scout up as he rose to his peds. 

“This IS your fault!” Starscream said dangerously, even as the scout transformed out his blaster with his other servo. But as a deafening silence strangled the cavern, and Starscream stared into the bug's startled yet defiant optics…he hated it. He was doing it again. 

His anger attempted to subside, replaced by something else as his grip loosened on the bug. But the curse didn’t seem to approve of that, and it instead tried to channel its power into the servo which mistakenly held Bumblebee. Starscream’s optics widened and he wrenched his servo away. Then yelped as he found Wheeljack’s little device had sent an equal pulse up his ped in some pathetic counterattack to the power. Instead of neutralizing the surge at his servo, all it did was make him fly back clumsily, and hit his helm on the ground. All while the power still felt as if his arm was being ripped apart by scraplets.

“Uh, you guys okay over there??” Twitch called from their own game.

“Ugh…Peachy.” Bumblebee commented dryly as he picked himself up after having apparently fallen back as well. “Someone is just a sore loser.”

Starscream only sat up to grip his violently shaking servo as he glared at it. He wasn’t like Megatron. “Perhaps…It was an overreaction.” He couldn’t apologize. He was too distracted. But he could acknowledge the bug’s point. Maybe that would be enough. 

Bumblebee watched him a moment before a ridiculous grin came to his faceplate. “No kidding.” 

The scout offered Starscream a servo, and he stared at it hesitantly as the lightning slowly died from his frame. He didn’t smack it away, but he didn’t take it either. Instead, he forced his annoyingly numb right ped to cooperate as he pulled himself up. “Besides, with the human’s knack for simply realigning the rules to her whim, how could either of us be at fault? Megatron clearly taught her well.”

“Excuse me?” Dorothy put her servos on her hips. Apparently his comment was somehow offensive. Even the buckethead’s agent detested being compared to him. How poetic.

Starscream paced to give himself enough distance from bot and human alike, before tipping a servo and his hip out in unbridled sass with an innocent vocalizer, “Oh but I’d never blame you for such a thing. In fact, I might have pulled such a stunt myself if we were more acquainted. Although that was a bit of a clumsy rule you constructed in your haste. Perhaps I could give you some advice for–”

Dorothy put her servo up to silence him. “No. I didn’t make it up. Well, not right at that moment–it’s just a common house rule for the game. It makes things a bit more interesting, and can lead to crazy close calls like that.”

“Yes we would never cheat! Especially Dottie!” Her conjunx attested with a protective servo around her shoulder, which she patted with hers. Disgusting.

Starscream’s faceplate scrunched at their show of affection, but willed himself to put on a smile. “I meant no disrespect, truly.” He gave her a half-afted bow, then began assisting the bug in collecting the cards that had fallen to the floor. “So I assume we shall be shuffling the groups now then?”

Not a moment later, there was an obnoxious uproar from the kids as the Twin Blades team celebrated their victory. They had their own argument about how it was achieved, yet it seemed more out of curiosity for their strategy. Of which they happily went into dramatized detail. They all laughed and congratulated them, with playful counters at how close it had been. No one was angry, or accusatory. The only touch they shared was gentle. Starscream stared at them, transfixed. 

Sure, it was not as if he had always fought with his trinemates over such silly things. But still, there had typically been some sort of transition into a wrestling match to settle the true victor. Anything close to that here was meager at best. He wasn’t surprised…only, afflicted with a strange sense of yearning. Which was ridiculous.

“Sounds like it.” Bumblebee remarked as he placed the now reforged stack of cards on their table, then added teasingly, “Are you actually going to be my teammate this time, fly boy?”

“Yes, it seems that might be necessary.” Starscream avoided the bug’s optics as he took his seat again. 

Team NightTagBreaker switched places with Purple. He didn’t quite care for the dinobot, but the other two terrans could be rather pleasant. Although it did seem that “J.B.” was far more focused on the game than attempting to bite his peds this time. 

Starscream and Hashtag shared a glance, and he was the first to break the silence between them, “Do not expect us to go easy on you.” Mimicking her siblings’ manner of playful banter.

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” She responded with a theatrical tone and servo to her chassis. 

“If anyone should be going easy, it is us!” Nightshade added, to which the dinobot seemed to finish the thought.

“Yeah! Because–we are three bots, and you are not.”

“Don’t think that numbers are everything kids.” Bumblebee warned as he fanned out his new selection of cards in his servos. 

This time, Starscream collaborated with the bug as they discreetly disclosed which cards they possessed, and plotted how to best use them. He used his skips to instead protect his unlikely ally from unwanted card draw, until he could change the color again. As well as parrying reverses, or waiting until the other also had a plus two, as to avoid friendly fire. Perhaps that strange rule could be rather useful, when he actually knew to utilize it. Then, he also did not see why they could not stack other actions in such a way as well…

When the scout had called Uno, the dinobot attempted to skip him to postpone their victory. Unbeknownst to them, Bumblebee also had a skip card, but the bug did not place it down. A pause for dramatic effect?

Starscream cast aside his own useless cards and smacked the bug’s shoulder plating. “Reveal your card already you–eh, just what are you waiting for? We won. Cancel their action with yours!”

Bumblebee looked baffled as he stared at his card then back at Starscream. “What?? Jawbreaker skipped me, I can’t cancel that. It’s your turn. Why don’t you use that reverse card you had?”

Starscream’s wings pulled back and he ripped his cards back off the table to hit them with his other servo. “This scrap will do nothing to change it to the correct color! Why on Cybertron can you not just do as that human did before?! Countering an action of equal title mid-attack is perfectly legal in your stupid house rules! We’ve even done it multiple times this round, how is this any different?”

“Stacking only works with the plus two’s and four’s,” Nightshade attempted to explain their absurd standards, “It is not as if you can add onto one skip with another.”

“Uh-huh, you can’t do that Starscream, that’d be cheating.” J.B. insisted like a foolish child. “Right? Because, that’s definitely against the rules.”

Lightning jumped across Starscream’s frame again.

How was he the one cheating? Their “mom” had come up with it first! Noone had cared when she did it. How did it make any less sense to use the skip card in such a way than the other one? Of course the skips could be added onto one another! All they’d need to do is make it a double skip so that–if he and the scout didn’t already win–it’d send the next turn over to Hashtag. How was that concept so hard for them to understand? This game was stupid. 

Bumblebee nudged him, “Hey, we haven’t lost yet!” Starscream didn’t look at him, nor say anything for a long stint of time. “C’moooon, what cards ya got huh?”

Starscream’s optics flickered red and he took in an extended vent, then hiked his wings up with a strained grin and peak to his vocalizer. “Fine, yes, of course! Let's look at what cards I have. Numbers and a single useless reverse action? That will surely lead us to victory. Especially, when as soon as I place something down, those three will no doubt begin a chain of plus two actions of which you would be defenseless against. Or a plus four. Or they could start a reverse chain between one another. Or lock us in a color neither of us have in a plot to instigate the idiotic notion of infinite card draw!”

“You don’t know what cards we have,” Hashtag seemed to be getting frustrated with him, “And besides, it’s just a game. If we outplay you, we win, it’s not that deep!”

“Well, Uno does contain a higher percentage of RNG than skill, but that is a fair point regardless.” Nightshade nodded.

“Um, so, can we just…finish the game now?” J.B asked meekly.

Starscream’s wings swiveled up and down as he forced the stupid power back into the corner of his spark. “Sure.” He could play nice for Hashtag’s sake.

The game proceeded just about as insufferably as he anticipated. He and the bug ended with far too many cards, and Nightshade claimed the win for their team. That was fine. He didn’t care.

Every other match of that accursed Uno left Starscream and Bumblebee once again so close, only for it to be ripped away time and time again. Every instance, more inane than the last. How could they have not even won once?! The last time was entirely the bug’s fault, when he’d blatantly ignored Starscream’s order. He made sure to tell the scout just how stupid that had been, but then the others only seemed to get mad at Starscream for it instead! 

The next game that was chosen attempted to usurp the last in stupidity. The “tic-tac-toe” was near impossible to not end in a tie. It had to be replayed repetitively until a victor was concluded. It was boring, exceedingly plain, and the only viable strategy was far too easily thwarted. In fact, when Starscream was in the midst of cornering their opponent, they instead reversed it back onto him! Bumblebee had obviously ruined the whole thing with his insistence on starting in the middle when it was clearly best to start at a corner. Even when they finally did manage to succeed in one matchup, it was anticlimactic as slag. 

The next was a quite straightforward game titled “Spot-it”. All that needed to be done was match an icon on your own card with the one in the discard. And finally, Starscream was able to dominate. Every single match, he rapidly pinpointed the correct image and practically blazed through his entire stack with only minute lapses in his speed. No one stood in his way! No one even got a chance! It was glorious! 

Starscream laughed maniacally as he gained yet another point without the pathetic aid of the bug. “HAHAH you all are not even TRYING! This game is far too easy. Or perhaps you simply have a slow processor for such things, eh, Bumblebee?” He flicked the bug’s helm and fluttered his wings. Elated that he at long last obtained even a fleeting moment of triumph amongst them. “Good thing you have me to carry your constant lag.”

Bumblebee glared at him, then rolled his optics, “Riiiight. You’re taking this whole thing way too seriously.” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Starscream stated in a more dismissive than questioning manner with a slight tip of his helm and a shrug. “What’s next then?”

“Pictionary!” Hashtag held up the box with far more excitement than she’d had previously. “Nightshade and I even made more little figurines and an extended board for all of us to play together!” She and her sibling began the setup, while J.B. distributed the items required for each team. “The person who draws whatever it is rotates, then the others on your team need to guess what the person is trying to show them! The color on the board determines what subject it is, and you kinda get a bit of a clue on what it is from that too.”

Simple enough, if the bug could draw a straight line. Starscream claimed the marker first, as he was far more confident in his own artistic ability. The first object he got was a “basketball”. He didn’t know what that was, but he did know how to depict a basket and a ball separately. Surely the scout could comprehend an icon based word puzzle as simple as that. Which he did. But the words only got stranger from there, and that is where their downfall began. 

The worst of it was when there had been the perfect opportunity to draw himself throwing Megatron into the Pit–for the action topic of course–and the blasted timer ran out before he could finish! Apparently there needed to be some sort of middle ground in which to prioritize what details were necessary. He could make sacrifices for the sake of their victory, sure, yet it was still disappointing. How was he to find any sort of satisfaction in this game, if he could not at the bare minimum depict the buckethead getting tossed into a scrapheap?

Items like “Taylor Swift”, “Swan”, or “Cell Phone”, were ridiculous. Was he supposed to have done research before this blasted thing? They had to redraw cards in an attempt to acquire a usable item multiple times. Yet even then, there were many moments where the bug had far too much confidence in his ability to depict whatever it was he’d gotten. His illustrative skill was predictively lacking, and he was lucky Starscream had been able to make out any of it at all. At the very least, Bumblebee was adequate at determining what Starscream was forced to illustrate. 

Although he would admit that this game certainly seemed the most balanced, those with their ridiculous bonds and understanding of one another, inevitably gained some sort of advantage. Which got annoying fast. Every little moment longer the scout took to guess what the item was, or the next incoherent blob he depicted, made the tapping of Starscream’s ped quicken. 

Starscream growled and his wings flicked back, “NOW what is it?” He squinted as the crude image began to take some sort of shape. “The Autobots?” The bug shook his helm and gestured for it to be more general. “Cybertronians?” A gesture for him to elaborate. “What other word is there!?–” His optics flashed red, with a brief moment of his spark feeling as though it were being wrenched out of his intake, as the word came to him–“Transformers.” A disgustingly rudimentary title. Of course that was all that they were reduced to in this human game under the subject of pop culture. 

He was correct. But he still felt distant from the bug’s excitement toward their apparent close call. Starscream hit a servo against his own helm in an effort to knock out whatever had possessed him. This reflex was evidently questionable, but he was easily able to brush it off. He couldn’t have his processor glitching in the midst of this event. It would not only be quite discomfiting, but would also bring more petty disruption to something the Terrans seemed to have put a great deal of effort into. He had to keep it under control.

By the end of it, he and the bug only managed to cross half of the spaces needed to win. Infuriating. Starscream despised losing. They weren’t even able to claim second best. Pathetic. 

By the next game, Starscream was decidedly over it. 

This “Charades” only served to make one dance around like a fool in some absurd hope at expressing the word on their slip of flimsy scrap. It was near identical to the concept of the last, but regressed into something far less tolerable. Perhaps it could be more amusing if it was less about imitating Earth creatures and instead aimed toward mimicking someone else in their group. That had been a favorite amongst his trinemates back in the more tolerable cycles amidst the Decepticons.

Bumblebee flapped his arms around stupidly as he attempted to display what he’d plucked from the pile. He looked utterly ridiculous. Starscream would never catch himself offline doing such a thing. What was the bug even supposed to be? He was acting as though he were attempting to fly, similar to how Nightshade seems to need to operate their alt mode. Clearly some form of Earthen avian, but how was he supposed to know which classification was required?

“Ugh,” Starscream rubbed his optics, “what do you call those tiny avian creatures on this planet?” 

“Birds!” Twitch chirped in an oddly endearing manner.

“Right. That is what he is, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, basically.” Bumblebee halted mid motion to shrug, then whirled his arms around before finding his balance again. “Think we can count that one Alex?”

“Mmm…” Dorothy’s conjunx, Alex, squeaked his uncertainty at the notion. Obviously unsatisfied with such a vague answer.

Dorothy smacked his shoulder, although it looked like it barely connected. “I think we can give it to ‘em. Starscream hasn’t exactly gotten as acquainted with what all our little guys here are called yet.”

“I don’t need your pity points, human.” Starscream muttered in a visceral hiss. When would he have had the time to study such things? Why should he care what all these birds were labeled on this insufferable planet? He had far better things to do! Starscream had a million other exceedingly more important matters that required his brilliant processor, than reverting back to cataloging miscellaneous fauna on some backwater rock!

 “Oh, I suppose it’s alright.” Alex relented, none the wiser to Starscream’s bitter comment. “Why don’t you try another one, Bee?”

Bumblebee chuckled as the timer ran out, “Sorry pal, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until next time to witness my famously flawless acting skills. How about you and Dot go next? Gotta show me your moves too!”

Starscream watched the rest of them play out what remained of the game with blank optics. The images he processed paced in a choppy framerate, and the clarity distorted to a lower quality. A moment's glance at the scoreboard told him that there was absolutely no way they would win in the larger scheme of things. It meant nothing. He couldn’t even attempt to sabotage the competition, or challenge the validity of his competitors' victories. He’d surely get caught, and only gain pointless drama that’d get him into trouble. Which he did not need more of.

Had he even passed that scout’s stupid test? Even if Starscream didn’t claim the more favorable glory he sought, it’d be worse if the failure was calculated against whatever new standard Megatron sought from him. Starscream was actually surprised his ever looming Lord hadn’t made further appearance by now. He was sure something was bound to happen soon. Perhaps this was all some sort of means to get him to let his guard down. Or to determine what could be used to force him in line. Megatron might be getting a byte more creative in his time as a traitor. Even if he was attempting some type of psychological approach, surely he’d revel in any excuse to beat the slag out of Starscream for any reason he could pull out his exhaust pipe.

This whole ordeal seemed too calm. Too casual. They all had many moments of clear annoyance towards him, yet constantly held themselves back but only a few meager remarks. It was not as if he held any particular power in this situation to warrant them to fear standing against him. They only seemed unsure, or dismissive. Even occasionally acting as if their apprehension was entirely absent. They were clearly hiding something. 

Starscream had been lost in his own thoughts for so long, that he’d just about missed their little awards ceremony to conclude the night. That was until there was a crack and pop that sent a far too familiar shock through his muddled audials. He flinched and stumbled backwards away from the noise. Nearly trampling one of the Terrans but unable to utter an apology as he barely processed their presence. 

It was only a device to distribute colorful material over the crowd. Their laughter was mocking him. Their celebration over their stupid series of trials that they rigged towards their own success, was disorienting. 

Starscream was done. He’d played their games. He was not about to attempt to decode what they wanted next. 

He stealthily retreated back into his corner of the cavern. It hadn’t been all horrible, he supposed…Regardless, he was tired. They were all too loud in the wrong way. 

The curse flared with thoughts echoing some stupid impulse that’d use its power to blast them into oblivion. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about any of it. Then their threat would be neutralized.

But that wasn’t right.

Lightning flickered and stabbed across his frame as he now sat with his wings to those soaring seekers on the wall. He just wanted to leave. To fly away to a Cybertron where they were waiting for him. Where he too could enjoy such festivities. Where they’d cheer his name for his achievements. Where he could revel in their praise–perhaps even…alongside his trinemates, untainted by his mistakes.

Where…it would all feel real.

[martincrushcameback]

LOOK- Varmijet, to me, would be so happy being the most boring guy you'd ever meet with the most boring hobbies that somehow Torty finds totally endearing.

To me, Varmi is the kind of guy who, once he's finally settled with Torty, settles HARD into total boring domestic life. I'm talking dad belly on his skinny body, newspaper, house robe, silly fuzzy dog slippers his wife gave him, morning coffee and toast. I'm talking following the same exact boring routine every single day for the next 50 years.

I'm talking enjoying only the quietest, most introspective, and "old person" hobbies. Bird watching and model train label accuracy levels of mundane. Stamp collecting, paper airplanes, newspaper crossword puzzles, only reading books about 15th century hats or something.

Embracing house husband life because wow he doesn't have to do much to make their lives happy for once and her job is great so he doesn't HAVE to push himself to the extreme all the time. Making his wife breakfast because she is a whirlwind and he burns the eggs every time and every time she eats it anyways and tells him she likes it because they're HIS boring burnt eggs and he will not admit it would crush him if she ever pointed out he burnt them but she knows and she's not a great cook either.

His life sucked until he met her and then they fought because OBVIOUSLY what you do when you're attracted to a person is verbally dis them and cause bodily harm right? That's what his brothers always did??? But like NO she's perfect and soft and passionate and he wants to pull all his hair out and finally she's like ok you know what you're my passion project. And suddenly it wasn't him having to try and figure out How To Flirt And Be A Human Person, now she's just decided they're a couple and they can do couple things and he is massively introverted but she's basically the sun to him an all encompassing and terrifying ball of energy he adores way too much.

And so domestic married life has fixed this pathetic little meow meow of a man. Turns out life is a whole lot simpler when he just wants to chill and pet his weird cat that will not leave him alone and it chews on his slippers and coughs up hairballs on his pillow -never her pillow, how is that fair you little demon?- And he's happy and his wife is happy.

I feel in my heart that he's SUCH A BORING GUY who needs the enrichment of a very introverted and boring life of routines and soft pillows and coffee and crosswords and scrabble. Let the man know too many intricate facts about the history of old war planes that would bore anyone to tears EXCEPT Torty.

He's the guy who only knows how to hype one person: his wife, and nobody else. He will fight you in the pit if you dare look at her the wrong way but also he calls her names and she calls him names and they're allowed to only complain at each other and people think they hate each other and they're like "what gave you that idea i would die for him/her" and like two seconds ago they were threatening to murder each other over spilled coffee and mismatched socks and now she's braiding his hair while he tells her that he thinks "gerbil" is a stupid word.

@ranfordgallus i was having varmi thoughts

Picture him sitting in old-timey pjs with a house robe on and the stupid fuzzy dog slippers and he's eating a bowl of some generic plain oat cereal and he's focusing WAY too hard on the crossword with Zakitty in his lap trying to chew on his sleeve. He calls out to his wife "Torty what's an 8 letter phrase you tell to someone you care about?"

"I LOVE YOU?" She calls back.

He half chokes on his cereal. "TORTY YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT-!"

And she comes in and looks at him confused because- "I'm your WIFE??"

This is a daily occurrence.

[bokettochild]

Not sure if people have already asked this before, but whose roles are whose for your Opera House AU doing Epic the musical?

No one has actually asked this before! I kept kind of hoping they would though, because I felt weird just throwing it out there unprompted, but trust me, I HAVE thought about it before! So, huge thank you for asking!

Odysseus: Warriors. Who else? I mean, come on, lets be real here, the Troy Saga alone has influenced my perspective of Warriors for so long now that it would be an utter and complete SIN to not have Warriors play the guy who is, in so many ways, so much like himself. Granted, OH AU Warriors is less like our Ody and more like Jay himself, but who cares? The vocals are there and Wars has the spirit and skill. Also, he has the range, from the desperation of the Cyclops Saga, the sadness of the Underworld Saga, the fury of the Vengeance Saga and the warmth and tenderness in both Just A Man and Would You Fall In Love With Me. He had the audience on the edges of their seats, and even though he's already a fan favorite at the opera, he reaffirmed that position with this role. It's also been one of his favorites of all time, because it's very rare he gets to play such a fleshed out and complex character, as he's usually cast as a knight in shining armor archetype rather than a blood-covered and desperate soul one second from snapping!

Athena: I actually had to debate this one a bit, but Imma say Lullaby. Warriors' own Zelda is too sweet, and while Dusk herself could do it, I have a better role for her, and Lullaby is so Athena in so many ways, so I went with her instead. She has that strong, authoritative energy, while also being old enough to sell the Goddess of Wisdom vibe, and also the agility to be a warrior herself. Also, I can kinda see her just actually sounding like that when she sings, y'know?

Zeus: They brought Dei in for this role. Time would have, but they needed a couple of convincing individuals for this, and Dei being bigger and physically of a brighter pallet than Time kinda gave him High King and Sky God energy that they just really needed for the stage performance.

Polyphemus: Also Dei. For a stage performance, they actually had a puppet and rigging for the cyclops itself, but Dei's vocal range allowed him to do the voice from off stage quite convincingly. (Four himself was the Puppeteer (lol) for the cyclops though, so he also deserves credit)

Polities: It was Ravio. Typically, Ravio doesn't perform, but he could capture that energy they wanted for Polities and his vocal range is a bit higher than most of the other cast. Wind would have done it, but because of his age, the crew divided against it. After all, Polities isn't a child, but a man, and having Wind in the role would have changed that perception. Hyrule was nervous for the part, but he's actually glad that Polities died within five songs because it meant that he only had to show up on rare occasion as a ghost after that, and spent less time in the spotlight.

Eurylochus: They actually had a bit of a struggle on this one, since none of the team actually has a voice that deep, but Twilight ended up filling the role, since it's got less major singing parts and more speaking bits than a lot of the other characters. It's not as demanding as some of the other roles he could have played (like the gods) and he looks the part of the big, strong, best-friend and advisor to the lead, or at least enough that he was believable. He's not the best actor, but he did a great job all the same; better than anyone else could have done it at any rate!

Poseidon: Time actually played this part! Being a former rock-star has it's advantages, and that includes being able to bleed rage and/or agony into his voice while leaving his audience totally and completely chilled! Being the blocking director and stunt coach also means that he was able to really sell any battle scenes because he was right up in there to guide, coax, and otherwise cover for the cast's mistakes when need be. He admittedly had a TON of fun with the role, and I'd be lying if I said that there weren't;t a few people in the crowd watching who didn't have to pause and wonder where they'd heard his voice before, never mind so many online forums comparing his vocal qualities to famously masked singer Major-A, but, hey, Time considers it worth it, even if the role might have blown his cover.

Aeolus: Who better to play the god of winds than Wind himself? It's a small role, so Time and Lullaby felt comfortable letting him take it, even though this would have been a major production and risk for the opera. The fact that he's kid only helped to sell the care-free and mischievous depiction. He had a TON of fun with the role too, and the audience was eating his performance up!

Circe: Artemis! I wanted one of the divas to do this, and Artemis has the right energy, as well as great on-stage chemistry with Warriors! They broke down into giggles so many times as she attempted to "seduce" him during practice, but it actually turned out really great. She's one of the only gals in the cast who could hit the high notes at the end of There Are Other Ways and really sell the emotional range of Circe's character

Hermes: I actually struggled on this one until it literally just jumped out at me. Wild plays Hermes. He's got the energy, physically and otherwise, and I'm going to say that any dancing included was actually something he just ad-libbed in there, rather than being told to do it by Time or Lullaby. They loved it though and totally kept it in, as well as a few other little quirks he added to the character (they sort of just set him free on stage in the end and told him to go nuts, so most of Warriors' reactions to him are entirely real and not faked at all, lol). Yes, this did result in Wild deciding to address everyone (short of his bosses) as "dawling" for the foreseeable future, but no one could deny that it's been one of his best roles ever!

Tiresias/The Prophet: This one was actually a huge struggle for the crew, because while they have a lot of actors, there's a sort of a limit to who can or cannot portray certain character, and in the end, it was Legend who took the role, despite having other parts to play and a prop and costume crew to supervise for most of the musical. He did a great job though, and you know those animatics that sort of depict No Longer You as a sort of twisted waltz? Yeah, the cast went with that, and it was a good thing Legend played the role, because he's the only one who can actually dance blindfolded! He also carried the weight of the song very well, and between him and Warriors, they gave the audience absolute chills!

Odysseus's Mother: Malon! It was a small appearance, so even though she's technically not an actress, and is actually a musical coach, she was happy to join on the production if it was just for one song. Yes, everyone cried. Warriors' tears were entirely real in that scene and everyone else was hard pressed to not show it when their turns came to sing.

Scylla: For some reason I Can Not Explain, I just really want Legend to have told everyone "I know a gal" and just dragged Hilda in to play this role. But, since she isn't an actress, and probably wouldn't want to be one, I'm going to say Fable took it instead. She doesn't give Monster Girl energy, but like her twin, she's very adept, and really gave everyone the creeps even before Styla made her up like a monster lady! Her vocals are chilling, and she really enjoyed reading up on the lore of her character and trying to let it bleed in through her voice to sound more like a tortured soul, punished by the gods and made out as a monster to mortals due to her horrific appearance (and man eating, but details!).

Calypso: Believe it or not, Sun sold this role like the queen she is! Her innocent, almost angelic look really contrasted the horrible behavior but also total ignorance of the character, and I actually think she'd sound similar to Barbara Wangui when she sings, so having her in the role feels right. Granted, she doesn't give "Island Goddess" in the same way that Marin would, but Marin is probably dead in the OH AU, and wouldn't join the opera anyway, so yeah.

Penelope/Siren: (I'm pretty sure it's the same actress for both, but even if not, that's how the crew did it!) Dusk was the only option for this role, and she rocked it! She's got the range, got the mature look of a woman who's been waiting 20 years for her beloved to come home (totally helped by the fact that she spent 17 years waiting for her actual love to reappear), and while she and Warriors did have to work quite a bit to sell the right dynamic on stage, they are both talented actors, and did a great job together. She actually really had fun with the siren role, and her screams as the sirens are slain were positively blood-curdling! She half sacred Warriors to death when he first heard it and he still shiver slightly even when they finally perform.

Telemachus: I debated this one so hard, because each member of the cast has a certain energy and none quite match Telemachus, but in the end, again, Legend filled the role, since he's good at taking the ones that no one else can do and adapting as need be to suit it. Is it sort of method acting if he can relate to the character and thus capture the emotion better? Who knows, but despite playing the prophet as well, a costume change and intermission can do wonders for helping a guy get into character as the opposite of what he was an hour ago! He's also got the stunt training and skill to pull off fight scenes well, and look like he's bad at it, as well as a good irl dynamic with Lullaby that they definitely leaned into for their songs together. As for the Ithica saga songs, well, he and Warriors had to work really hard, given their actual dynamic, to try and sell their parts, but they're both talented actors and they made it through in the end.

Antinous: Don't come for me, but Sky actually ended up taking this role! He's a talented actor, with a special skill for action scenes and fights, as well a great depth of emotion and, despite being an utter teddy bear in actuality, he plays a killer villain! Did Legend and he end up laughing their asses off after having to act like they hated each other? yes, but they kept in character as long as they were on stage and Sky's voice tends to give people chills when he sings, so he really could set the mood well, as well as keeping pace with Legend and giving their scenes together some great energy. It scares the rest of the cast how quick he can switch from softie to scary monster man, but there's a reason he's one of the best!

(Note: I feel like after a while if they decide to revisit the musical, Hyrule might be at a place where he'd be able to play Telemachus, but as it stands in the AU, he doesn't have the confidence needed to basically carry a whole act just yet. He has the vocals quality to sell the character though! And, while Legend's great at his job, Hyrule does look/feel more the part of the sheltered and stumbling young man without a guide or guardian to show him the way. Time and Lullaby probably wanted to cast him, but since Hyrule wasn't ready, they asked Legend instead.)

As for some of the other roles, the team had a ton of fun using puppets for the winions, and various not on stage actors got to voice them via mics! Think sort of Jim Henson style puppets though, since they are mental to be a sort of comedy relief.

The various suitors were played by all the guys who had been 'killed off' previously in the show, with the exception of Dei and Time, whose voices are too notable, and Legend who, of course, is currently playing Telemachus. Same thing for the army, although they did pre-record some of the bits where there's supposed to be more of a crowd, since they can only fit so many people on stage and wanted to really sell the idea of 600 men or 108 suitors, or the countless dead in the underworld, ect. They did hire a bunch of extras for crowd scenes, and used puppets and various other effects to sell the appearance of crowds where they could, but I don't feel the need to state who every extra is LOL.

So yeah! That's how it would go! Thank you again for this ask! It's been a delight to talk about a musical I actually understand, as well as adore! Especially considering I'm working on LU animatics for it even now!

Feel free to ask anything else you'd like, even if someone else might have asked already, because I have a big mouth and I like to talk, and I might have more thoughts now than I did previously!

[2demondogs]

I Was Just A Girl, Then | Arthur & John

Tags: John/Abigail, past Eliza/Arthur, and referenced VanDerMatthews; (CW) teen pregnancy (Abigail), canon character death, whole lotta brotherly angst, does it count as comfort if it doesn't work?, vignettes Words: 1.5k A/N: I think a lot about the fact she was only around 18 when she gave birth to Jack. Good grief.

Abigail is too young to look at Arthur with this much— pain. Pain is what it is, and he'd like to think his hesitancy to call it that is entirely because John is his brother, and men should always think their family is innocent.

Her hair is dark and long; her face is round and soft. In the light of the campfire, she looks like a woman he once knew. Shadows cradle her, fall harsh on the side of her belly that's facing the night. Grimshaw will need to alter her dresses a second time, and soon.

"He's your brother," Abigail is saying, throat thick with emotion, and he feels so very uncomfortable. He knows he is. He holds her hands, anyways, the knuckles rosy and chapped with the chill coming over the air in the last month, rough against his palms. She's never had soft hands, none of them have.

The seasons are changing, and so did John. He's been gone for six months.

"You know him. You know the way he thinks, don't you?" She's moved on from hoping, because he's not answered any of her letters. Now, Abigail is grieving. She doesn't know what she's asking, but Arthur does. "Why did he—?" A choke cuts her off before he can.

His face feels tight, almost as tight as his chest. "I used to know him," he says.

This grief is worse than when Abigail began to show, because now it is shared.

He thinks of Eliza, and if some other man held her hands, entirely enclosed in his, while she cried because she was unwanted, because her life had been decided for her by a wanderer who hadn't had to hold up the same burdens. Condemned to what so many girls dream of playing house, but— girls should never be with child. He looks down at Abigail's hands instead of at her face, how the fire catches the tears welling up in her eyes.

She's a strong girl. She wouldn't have survived as long as she has if she weren't, and he knows she will go on for much longer, too. It feels wrong to see her cry, and to feel the shards of heart pulsing through the veins along the backs of her hands whenever he gains the consciousness to stroke a thumb over one.

He's not used to comforting people. Not women, especially, who expect so much more than a clap on the back and a companion to sit out the silence with,the way Hosea taught him was proper for a man to offer, lest he be misunderstood. Never stopped him from treating Dutch how he treats Abigail, now. It seems so much kinder than silence.

Arthur is walking over those shards, and whatever he says could crack them into more. Abigail squeezes at his fingers and he lets her.

"It ain't you, Abigail," he says.

It's John.

She misconstrues what he means, and lets out a small sob of: "I know, Arthur."

Yesterday, Arthur wished they would've hanged him with his father before he had a chance to grow up mean. Today, he told John they should've hanged him when he was still sprouting.

After giving him that nasty, black ring around his eye, of course. He supposes it'd only be fair to give him one in return, brothers in bruises. Hosea seems more sad than anything and Dutch, more or less disappointed. Arthur thinks both are unwarranted, even if they are — as far as he knows — less severe than the anger he deserves for acting out as their son. Lyle would've given him a fresh scar along his face. His chin stings at the thought.

His son is dead.

Eliza, too, but not even grief can lie to him enough to think that they would ever spend a life together. He has little to mourn besides a woman that he wronged and his own pathetic attempts to redeem himself in her eyes, which he knew wasn't possible.

She cried when she saw him at the saloon, wandering through, all those months ago. When he had recognized her and taken her into his arms, she slapped him harder than he thought a woman their age could ever hit. They had dinner. She said he ruined her life and that pregnancy was her worst fear as if it were the weather, all over weeks-old bread that he thought tasted just fine as fresh before she spoke, and started to cry again. Then, it all seemed stale.

Issac's absence hurts differently.

Only men are supposed to die. Not boys, lest they open their mouth the way John has. Mocking him. Can't even shoot a gun let alone— and he's mocking him for trying to be a man.

It hurt because Arthur told himself the same things. He had a handle on things until he didn't, and now the reins have slipped from his fists again.

Issac's fists. They were so small, even though he was growing like a weed. Another month, he would've needed new clothes that Arthur could have stolen the fabric for. He wonders, now and then, how tall Issac would have gotten.

Much worse is another voice telling him that Eliza wouldn't have missed him had he died, because John had spoken it into reality. He had drawn it from the pit of his thoughts the way he always does — how Hosea and Dutch are able to, too, because apparently sleeping in the same camp makes your dreams intertwine and writhe around one another just enough — and he had given it life.

It's the first cigarette they've shared since John returned.

Arthur said they should've hanged him, and then said it twice more in the same week. Old habits die hard. John hadn't found it quite as funny as Dutch had, and neither had Hosea.

Dutch doesn't often realize when Arthur is capable of fratricide.

He's older now, but he isn't. John's nose still has that mean crack to it, scraggly old beard at his jaw, and he looks as much like a kicked dog as ever. Always has looked defensive, and sad. Arthur doesn't like to consider that he's picked it up from him, and that he picked it up from Hosea. The chains that bind suffocate the most when he yanks at them.

John's an ugly sight against the setting sun. He misses when he could tell him as much and John would laugh instead of saying it wasn't very fair. Fair, fair, fair— that's all men care about: fairness. Life isn't fair, so maybe John really is all grown up, because he expects some kind of civility out of a world where people like them die in the streets everyday.

He dreams despite it all. Arthur does not, and that is why they aren't the same.

Surely, they cannot be the same. Eliza cried at the sight of his face, and Abigail fell to her knees. Arthur is nothing like his brother.

He misses John terribly. He misses when he could tell him he was ugly, and when he could push him into the water and feel good about calming the panic in his eyes.

Isn't that what brothers do? Torment and save, over and over? This only feels like one or the other, day after day.

John asked to bum a goddamn cigarette when he proposed a smoke, though he must have his own pack. Arthur was handing it over filter-out before he even opened his mouth. The instruments are out of sync, but the music still plays.

He misses adding onto one another's insults of Dutch's operas, when he first began listening to them. That was only two years ago, but the memory tells him they were both boys yet.

It seems warmer than this summer evening. John's hair is shifty and blue-black where once it looked like it could've been brown when he was born, merely darkened with age. The sun used to show some part of the man that the night couldn't. Anymore he's all midnight, all of the time. And when he looks at Arthur, his eyes are full of shame that he knows intimately and yet not at all.

"She's jus' happy you're home," Arthur says, before he can speak.

John grimaces. "I know."

Arthur likes to think he is not all nighttime himself. Every loathing thought dissipates when he must confront the issue of John Marston, and he finds himself a better man in every way. Beneath the jealousy, he knows he's better in no way at all.

The creek is still from where they sit. Arthur feels the anger build up, and he can hardly swallow it down enough to even his voice.

"I held her hand while she gave birth," he says. Turns to John, and lets the hatred seep into his eyes. "It should'a been you, Marston."

John looks away, and grimaces. "I know."

He could say that she screamed unlike anything he'd ever heard before; that he found very little beauty in the newborn, like Susan had, that he thought maybe he should visit his mother's grave, if he could find it, he hadn't thought of her in over ten years; that he had seen the look on Hosea's face while he wiped the cool cloth over her forehead: disappointment, and not in Abigail.

None of it would change anything.

[allbridgesburn]

okay can I just say I ADORE your snowbaird fic?? like it's so gorgeous and the characterization is superb, and I can't wait to read how Coriolanus adapts to Mallory and vice versa! thanks for sharing the fic with us! ❤️

oh my god thank you so much?? 🥺🥺 it's my first fic for this fandom and i was super unsure if i could capture the characters properly, but i'm glad it's generally working so far lmao

snow and mallie are gonna get a scene next chapter (already written it!); but mostly up next it's gonna be an exploration of 1) the fuckedupness of the snowbaird relationship and 2) snow being even more of an asshole. poor lucy gray rip

thank you you sweet soul ❤️

[pigeonstab]

Cross and Dream would be unstoppable. In a bad way. Those two are both overworking machines and Blue is so so tired of having to wrangle them into resting.

[a-drama-addict]

noachi!!!!!!!!

[velvetlilith777]

just popping in to let you all know that ficmas is taking a pause for a quick second.

our busy season at work came early (usually post christmas) so we've been working mandatory overtime, i'm behind on christmas irl and i woke up today with a cold 🥰

this pause should only be a couple of days at most. just need to finish a couple of things up before i get back to being regularly and chronically online 🖤

so sorry for the delays!

[titsthedamnseason]

why does “God” talk to zane. im scared

[zeb-z]

ok listen. you're badboyhalo and having the worst week of your life. you're willing and wanting to give anything, anything, to get your kids back. forever, your crush/enemy/friend/date partner?/ president sits you down and asks you to marry him. he's on a drug that makes him manically happy and has an extreme level of brainwashing for federation purposes.

you consider for the briefest moment saying yes, because you're drowning in your grief and hard in bargaining, but it won't do anything to help bring the eggs back, forever doesn't know anything. forever wants the eggs back as much as you do, the real one at least, you know this.

you're surrounded by roses. you ask him what you can do to help him, what he needs, asking the forever that you know is in there somewhere. any other personal feelings aside, he's your friend and he clearly needs help. he asks you to marry him again. he tells you to stop making some noise that he's clearly hearing through auditory hallucination. you just want your kids back, you keep telling him this, until he snaps and starts shooting mines under both of you.

forever is still out of his mind. your kids are still missing. the roses are burning.

bad said no to the proposal, of course he did. that's not forever, the kids are gone, this is no time or place for such a thing even if forever was himself. but I don't think forever asked because he feels "opposite than what he usually feels" under the pills. he's manic and under the influence and half brainwashed - he wants every day to be the best day.

and how heartbreaking is that? that bad is only being proposed to while forever is out of his mind. that forever wants bad to say yes because that would make the day the best day ever for him. that under any other circumstances, on that bench with the roses all around them, it might have been something good?

[b-blushes]

saturday quest is catsitting in the most slug mode way possible 👍

[fuckyeahkarlach]

omg there are so many bg3 discord servers

[keeps-ache]

and i Don't need to be detailed or very realistic with my worldbuilding! because L. ron hubbard existed at some point and