#i'm sick so i made a list

[sparks-olivarpente]

the very long list of Very Short Fics

Here's a list of byler very short fics (≥ 2500 words)

Will’s Crush: A Post-Painting Sleepy Convo by bloomaomori4540 (@tsugarubecker) Shhh. It’s 3am in the van, pitch black, and Mike and Will are asleep.

feedback loop by @aceoflanterns Other words begin to enter the feedback loop. The world is still a hazy thought, just a distant memory, but new things enter your mind—it’s not, it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault you don’t like girls! or, the destruction of castle byers.

I'll Be Waiting by SunflowersAndSarcasm (@sunflowersand-bees) The Snow Ball hadn't gone quite how Will and Mike had wished that it would. But they get a do-over. Maybe this time, it'll work out.

My Love, I Could Have Sworn I Felt Your Arms Around Me Last Night by lookinghotwiththosewings (@dinitride-art) “Dreams can be dreadful things. They are everything you have and everything you don’t. Stored memories blend with desperate pleas and reckless hopes. And how recklessly did I hope that you loved me.”

The Hospital, Nancy and My Mom's Cardigan: All That's Left of My Family by lookinghotwiththosewings (@dinitride-art) They don’t tell you what to do when someone you love might lose someone.

would i know him? (i don't know) by willow_lark (@willow-lark) It's November 6th, 1988--a long and hard two-and-a-half years since the start of the fight against Vecna. Nancy just got back from a reconnaissance mission to the Upside Down, and she pulled a stranger out with her--a boy with fearful eyes and a lot of secrets. Mike Wheeler doesn’t trust this new guy at all.

Don't Leave Me Here by BeanwithaQ (@quinnick) Will and El go on a mission to end Vecna for good but when they don't return on time, Mike waits for them. For however long it takes

Something Which Matters by nbfutureboy (@futureboy-ao3) Hopper swallows his pride, and attempts to apologize to Mike Wheeler for the Summer of ‘85. Unfortunately, the logistics of teenage relationships are every-changing and dramatic, so he gets a little more of a surprise than expected.

i could be brave by jaymelovestaffy (@ghoultaffy) Mike clumsily sneaks out to Lucas's get some things off his chest.

please say i'm young enough by @elekinetic Will is gay. Robin knows. Or, Robin and Will go on a supply run. Set in post-season 4 apocalyptic Hawkins.

a change that i can see by agustplz (@wheelerstrange) He heaves a sigh and kicks off his blanket, welcoming the slight chill of the air against his bare arms. And then, like clockwork, he rolls to his left and takes it in for the thousandth time. Will's painting. or: a sleepless night in mike's room, april 1986

yellow is your favorite color by RomeoWrites (@itsromeowrites) Will has an episode and under the kitchen counter is a better place to hide than expected.

Mouth Reader by byelervevo Will’s true sight, as Mike had called it, certainly came at a steep price. His doctors said that the temporary deafness in his right ear was a mere side effect of. He should regain hearing just in time for the Snow Ball. But he doesn’t.

the tender things by iphigenias Without her hair again she looked younger and older all at once, but the shape of her mouth was the same, the slope of her nose, the bright eyes that looked straight into Will’s when she spoke to him because she’d never learned the meaning of the word awkward. He’d missed her, more than he realised.

pink & black by queer_we_are Eddie wears a lot of pins and buttons on his vest, and Will is pretty sure he saw a pink triangle on one of them. Which would mean that Eddie is…Well, that Eddie is like him.

False Expectations by @breyito Nobody expected it. Nobody expected Will’s eyes to open and be a solid, glacial blue.

Two spoons by General_KJ Dustin is working a shift at scoops ahoy when Mike and Will suddenly show up and he learns something new about his best friends.

[hopeinthebox]

tagged by my beloved no.1 chappell roan stan @cordiallyfuturedwight thanks my darling <33 i can only apologise for the lack of ms roan here... i swear good luck babe has been on repeat i don't know what happened

tagging the usual suspects, apologies if i've already missed yours: @aprylynn @jiminsproof @thvinyl @cosmicdreamgrl @visionsofgideontheninth @hoseeok @kimchokejin @jihopesjoint @monismochi <333 and you dear reader

oh and see here for more of my self-proclaimed songs of the summer if you're interested in that kind of thing

[aspectpriority]

I'm reading the other link from that OCD post and oh man oh No it is So So over for me I fear. Am I aware that the feeling like I'm going to be publicly executed for this is ironic? Yes! Can I do Anything about it? Not right now! Oh boy!!

[someiicecube]

Do you think Solomon likes soup? If so what kind?

idk what prompted this ask, but it's so out of left field I had to answer.

Lots of soup mentioned below the cut.

Firstly, we have to establish whether or not Solomon would eat soup.

The simple answer? Yes, of course he would. If it was served to him at a fancy dinner as a side— yes, he would eat it. If you made it for him whilst he was sickly and bedridden? He would give the world back to you… or most likely he'd want to return the favor one day— huh, what do you mean you don't want him making anything? He feels better now! Hey, why are you pushing him out of the kitchen? :(

One cannot simply ask whether or not Solomon has a favorite soup or not.

Like any person, he has his preferences and whatnot. Solomon prefers the classic savory kinds of soup, as he sees the dish as more of a side or something simple you make when feeling under the weather. Sour and overtly spicy flavors are things he tends to avoid. And with his dislike of the ocean, he reads to me as someone who wouldn't be privy to having any fish or seafood in his soup. Meat or vegetable-based soups are preferred.

Though, the soup he's most caught eating would be those instant noodle packets (with an egg mixed in) that he's totally not making at three am cause he forgot to eat a while ago. Oops—

But what kind of soup specifically?

Something that reminds you of home, is a common answer. But, frankly speaking, that guy has a fucky memory, so what can he remember of home? Sure, he does remember that he did have a favorite soup in his youth, but the flavor of which was something that has been lost to time and his old man brain.

So, if Solomon no longer (or has since forgotten) a soup that reminds him of home, what could be put in place of that?

That would be something made by someone he loves dearly— now if you read that as being you or someone else in universe, I'll leave it up to reader interpretation.

Hey, if that man's childhood home is lost to time, that's life. Sure, it's a sad thing to witness, but it was bound to happen— that's just how human civilizations work, they're built up, people flourish, centuries pass by, and then a new one takes its place.

But back on the soup and Solomon calling you his new home— home is not always a place, it can be a person (actually it can be a place if you consider 'your heart' a valid location).

Something made by you (whether under duress; looking at Solomon's cooking here) is always something Solomon would like. Of course, he still takes in his own preferences, but he's lucky that you do as well.

Yes, he does tend to delegate soup to be a side dish, but at home he doesn't mind making it the main course. Perhaps it's just him, but there's just something about sharing a warm bowl of soup on a cold night and sharing that with your beloved that… strikes him, makes him feel soft in side, and has a smile spreading across his lips as he takes in the moment.

Maybe it's the homemade soup making him feel all warm inside. Maybe it's the private company he's sharing with meal with. He'll never know. What Solomon does know, however, is that, he doesn't mind having soup if it's made by you.

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Sounds like you've got a right bitch of a co-worker based on those post tags lol

ajfksdljf TT0TT Oh that was like my 3rd version of a post I made. I had to talk myself down and censor myself akljsdflkfa orz

But yes he really is. I cannot stress it enough that everyone hates his guts and he's created such a hostile work environment.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Daily Log 7

Trying out (probably just temporarily) making short daily-ish notes about things, in an attempt to see if it helps me be more reflective or productive lol.

Activities: Finished all of the little things I carved out of avocado pits, will maybe post pictures at some point? I painted some sections (like for the eye I carved, I made part of it white for contrast, etc.) and then generally glazed them with some shiny paint stuff. Now I really wish I had more avocado pits, I was unsure at first, but I have some new ideas.. I want to try inlaying stones like I've seen in some pictures, similar to the same ones I use for eyes in my sculptures. >:3 (random google image example of the stones inside, like this sort of thing V)

Low effort/small house cleaning tasks, did a few dishes, put up laundry, organized things, put up the recycling, paid bills, etc.

Still extremely sleepy and unfocused, it was hot last night and the cats woke me up multiple times so I only got a few hours of sleep and barely had any energy to do anything and also had a headache and back pain a lot of the day. ToT

Finally made an appointment I was supposed to make like 4 days ago lol..

Gave wet food to the cats (this is an ordeal because George eats way faster than Noodle, so I have to separate them and stand guard so George doesn't vacuum his up immediately then run over and try to eat all of his brothers food.. evil boy must be watched to prevent his crimes )

Edited videos for like.. 15 minutes but still have not been very productive on that front (or editing costume photos or anything) due to shoulder pain and stuff making it hard to type/use mouse much on the computer. grrbbb >:V

Spent 10 minutes looking up a weird pendant I had in my rock collection area and found out it's an old piece of costume jewelry from the 60s(?) and could be worth like $200 potentially, which is cool. I'm not sure if I'll sell it though because I do think it's quite unique and good for a prop when making wizard character inventories, etc, and I'd never be able to find anything like it again (it's this one below.. it's very weird.. looks like something a mage would have lol)

Translated the tapestry text for 5 minutes, and got out some tubs of clothes to start organizing them to sell outfits and stuff online, but then felt ill and had to go lay down so now the tubs are just sitting out on the floor ghgh..

Notable sights: It rained a bit and the sky was very pretty at one point. Didn't get to go outside today due to schedule/low energy, so no clovers or anything. Saw a fat squirrel out the window once though. Also when I was looking through my "rock collection" (which also includes marbles, dice, pieces of glass, stones, gems, rubber balls, seashells, smooth wood, jewelry scraps, etc. ggh.. really more "shiny things collection" but it's mostly rocks, so) for interesting stones to possibly put into avocado pits in the future, I saw a lot of pretty rocks I hadn't thought about in a while, so that was nice.

Goals moving forward: Focus on social activities, finding new friends in the places I want to move, communicating with ones I have. Physical therapy exercises. Finish and upload videos, edit costume pictures & etc. Do the new costumes I've planned. MAKE SCULPTURES at some point, I miss them.

Notable foods: Nothing really.. but it's an asparagus day tomorrow I think so.. >:)c hehehehe... Oh, I did try a bite of corn, which I really really love corn but am not supposed to have it on my diet. The miniscule morsel was sufficiently cherished. Still craving hearty stuff despite resuming my iron supplements lol..

[tittyinfinity]

One of the dumbest parts of all this car shit is that usually I'd be able to borrow my mom's car during times like these. But either her battery or her alternator is going out because it doesn't start on its own. And of course this happens at the same time as my car starts having issues

Maybe I could get like one of those battery jumping kits in the meantime to carry around in my mom's car? I'll have to look up how much they cost

[iloveotters2000]

Still constantly overwhelmed, but I'm getting professional help, which is nice and leaves me hopeful. Maybe it'll give me the energy to maintain my friendships again because I have been self-isolating more and more frequently.

I still miss seeing her sometimes, but it's more the concept of her I think. And the concept of someone who understands me deeply. Someone who feels the same emotional turbulence. She's hurt me though by (I feel) distancing herself, cancelling activities last minute, making me feel like I'm not important (which was even more present when we were dating and everything went south). I still like her as a person, but because she struggles w the same exact issues it is hard to get a sense of security and safety in our relationship...it's also hard to maintain boundaries when we were once closer than just friends.... It's not a very healthy dynamic, although I don't want to admit it and I especially don't want to lose her....

[thebibliosphere]

My husband and I were discussing how the first felon is defending the FDA and how the quality control of our food is gonna basically disappear and I proceeded to have so much anxiety about it that I didn't sleep last night. How do we prepare for this? Is there a way to make food safe at home? How can we avoid getting poisoned from the grocery store? Sorry for bringing this anxiety to your inbox but I'm exhausted and scared and I'm hoping you've come up with food safety tips what with your general food complications.

I’m afraid I don’t have a solution for something of this scale and am just as equally terrified, but that said:

Check your local state regulations. Some states actually have strict testing that the FDA when it comes to certain things like milk. See if they are listing any recalls.

Stop eating things raw for the foreseeable future. Wash and cook everything thoroughly, even if the bag claims it’s pre-washed, wash it again. Cooking will also help eliminate any remaining pathogens. It means no more salads for a while but that’s okay.

For things like fruit, try to go with things that have an outer skin that can be taken off. If it requires you to cut into it with a knife, give the outer skin a scrub and rinse to reduce the chances of your knife being contaminated by anything like e-coli and then contaminating the insides by cutting it up.

For fruit that can’t be peeled, make sure to inspect and wash them thoroughly. If you are immunocompromised like me, consider cooking it down into a jam or pie filling to reduce further risk. Not as fun as eating it fresh for some people, but it’s a valid way of still getting the flavor and nutrients.

For things like milk, only drink pasteurized and ultra pasteurized. Try to get pasteurized eggs if you can too.

If you don’t have a meat thermometer, now is the time to get one. Make sore everything is cooked to its required internal temperature. For poultry, the recommended temperature is 165°F (74°C), while for beef and pork, the recommended temperature is 145°F (63°C) with a 3-minute rest time. Ground meats should be cooked to 160°F (71°C). Eggs should be cooked until the yolk is set. No more runny egg yolks for a bit until we get a competent source of information back about bird flu.

For things like flour, try to go for reputable brands that have their own independent testing facilities for things like gluten. They also usually test for other things and clean their facilities thoroughly. My go to is King Arthur atm.

Also, stop eating raw cookie dough if you’re not going to toast the flour in the oven first. That’s how a lot of people get sick, not necessarily from the raw egg, though stop eating raw egg right now if you do. Again, bird flu. [Addendum] I learned the flour trick in a job I used to work, but apparently, the pre-defunded FDA didn't think toasting the flour made it safe, so maybe just don't eat raw cookie dough. And I know someone's going to be a cunt in the notes like "I don't care I do what I want" good for you, hope saying that made you feel better.]

This is a dwindling possibility with the tariffs but try to buy food imported from other countries that still have food quality control. I get my masa harina from a small company that imports directly from Colombia. They can’t afford the gluten free label required to be classified as such in the USA, but considering Cheerios in the USA can afford to buy that label and the celiac foundation certification logo and still routinely sells contaminated produce due to not using gluten free oats and a mechanical sorting system that can’t be certified gluten free (1) (2) (3), I’m more inclined to go with other countries labeling right now.

With clean water under threat, use a filter for your drinking water. We currently use the ones by Life Straw. They don’t fit into your faucet but the LS filters are better than most of the ones that can be attached that way and the housing of the jugs and countertop filters are easy to clean. Make sure you do so once a week and change the filters as directed.

Most of this is just basic food hygiene stuff combined with what it’s like to be immunocompromised, but it’s always worth repeating in case someone didn’t know, but especially worth repeating right now with all our rules and regulating bodies going out the window 😞

[light-wrath-paradise]

Family is clearly just prolonging my and my mother's misery by forcing me to text her on special occasions and send her gifts, which is giving her false hope that her only boxing bag might come back and endure whatever she decides to take out on it again.

[jehadkhaled]

Life or Death? ‼️

please stop I need your support to stand with my family in this bad situation ‼️

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters , my number verified on the list is ( #523 )✅️

✅️Vetted by @90-ghost

We don't even know anymore. Khaled, my little one, has started pronouncing the word "bombing," and it terrifies me.

I'm Jehad a father of two kids and lost everything because of war here in Gaza. I am now trying to rebuild some of it. With your kidness everything comes true ❤️❤️

We need to raise total of $100,000. Every dollar you contribute will make a tangible difference in our lives.

Please do your best to save my family and students we are waiting for your support. ❤️🙏

I’m not here to beg or list every detail—because even an entire newspaper wouldn’t be enough. The images on TV screens and the stories you see online already tell you so much about what we endure. But no matter how much you see, you’ll never truly feel what we feel. And I wouldn’t wish this life on anyone.

We are victims of conflicts we never chose. We love life—deeply, desperately—as long as we’re allowed to live it. We don’t want war, we don’t want destruction. All we want is a future. A future for ourselves, for our children—a future like every other human being deserves.

Everything is expensive and I need support follow you guys 🙏🙏❤️❤

Every dollar you contribute will make a tangible difference in our lives. Your donations can ensure that this newborn baby has a chance at survival and that  can provide my children with the necessities they deserve.

How You Can Help

In this moment of despair, I reach out to you—not just as a stranger, but as a fellow human being. Our humanity connects us, and compassion knows no boundaries. Your kindness, no matter how small, can bring a glimmer of hope to our lives, shattered by war.

Our baby has been sick countless times, and every evacuation has only made things worse. We need help to survive, to heal, and to dream of a better tomorrow.

Even a Little Means Everything

We appreciate your help, even if it’s just a small donation or simply sharing our story. Every bit of support matters. Together, we can rebuild what’s been taken from us and find hope amidst the rubble.

Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts.

Jehad  ❤️

[thepencilnerd]

Glasses Be Damned

pairing: Dr. Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x F!Doctor!Reader summary: Lazy Sunday mornings. You in his shirt. Him wearing—glasses? What could be better? genre/notes: domestic, tooth-rotting fluff, banter, implied-but-not-explicit smut, steamy and fluffy like the perfect scrambled eggs (or tofu), beard scruff, you being down so bad for your man in glasses, age-gap relationship word count: 1.8k a/n: happy sunday! I worship those damn 1x01 gifs that live in my head rent free

It was a sleepy Sunday morning. You’d stayed over the night before—his place, not yours—because he made a surprisingly excellent omelet and your apartment was a barren wasteland save for one expired can of soup and half a granola bar. You were planning on moving out soon anyway—leases expiring, schedules syncing, toothbrushes and charger cords already blurring the lines—and in with Robby.

One cold morning not long ago, you’d rushed into the hospital just a few minutes late, hair still dripping and teeth chattering from the walk over. Robby had looked up the second he saw you, eyes narrowing in concern, about to ask what was wrong.

You’d beat him to it. "My apartment’s basically falling apart," you said, breathless as you rubbed your arms. "No hot water, the heater’s busted, and I'm pretty sure there's black mold. I’ll call the landlord later. It’s fine."

He didn’t say anything right away. Just stared at you for a second longer, then quietly shuffled through the papers on the counter.

"You should move in with me," he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You blinked. "What?"

So he repeated himself, just as casually. "Move into my place."

He said it like it was nothing—like he was asking you to grab coffee, or teach the interns how to perform proper chest compressions. Calm. Nonchalant. Then, as if to prove his point, he started listing the benefits: less commuting, better water pressure, warmer blankets, shared groceries, an actual place to hang your coat that wasn’t a pile on your chair, cuddle cards redeemable for forehead kisses and back rubs, and—most importantly—no more freezing walks alone or in the dark. He even threw in something about matching mugs and leaving notes on the fridge like it was a feature, not a fantasy.

You opened your mouth, prepared to deploy every avoidant tactic in the book—because even after dating for a couple of years now, there was still a part of you that worried about taking up too much space, too much of him. But before you could spiral into worrying about boundaries, permanence, or him getting sick of you, he looked up again and softened.

"Hey," he said gently. "If you’d rather find a new place, I’ll help you. Really. I just want you safe, healthy, and not at risk for mold poisoning or hypothermia."

Then, with the same ease as his offer, he pressed a warm kiss to your cheek. "See you in five," he murmured, as if he hadn’t just tilted your entire world off its axis, and walked away.

You stood there, frozen—and slowly, a small smile formed at the corners of your lips.

And that was it. No grand declarations. Just a calm, matter-of-fact offer that left no room for protest. So you said yes.

Robby had frozen for a second like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. And then—he lit up. That slow, rare smile spreading across his face like sunrise. He pulled you into a tight hug, spinning you once in the middle of the hallway, laughing against your temple. He kissed you—your cheek, your forehead, your lips—soft and quick and too many times to count, like he couldn’t believe his luck. Like he didn’t want to waste a second not holding you.

"You're going to regret it," you teased.

"Never," he said, kissing you again. "Not in a million years."

Now your things were already half there anyway—socks in drawers, your favorite mug on the drying rack, your name scribbled under his on the mail by the door. And every morning like this only made it feel more like home.

You’d rolled out of bed in one of his soft, worn-in T-shirts—the one with the hem that just barely skimmed your thighs—padding barefoot toward the kitchen in search of coffee, warmth, and maybe a kiss if you looked pathetic enough.

You’ve seen Robby in a dozen different states—bloody scrubs, half-asleep during pre-dawn rounds, in command in a trauma bay, soft and half-melted in post-call cuddles. But you’ve never—never—seen him in glasses.

Until today.

You weren’t expecting it. And there he was, standing at the kitchen counter, hair still a little tousled, wearing black, round-framed glasses while flipping through the newspaper like it was the 80s.

You froze.

He glanced up. "Good morning."

You stared. Mouth agape. Said nothing.

"What?" he asked, wary.

You pointed. "Since when do you wear glasses?!"

He blinked, then winced, lifting a hand to take them off. "I—only for reading. Usually. I forgot I had them on."

"No. No, no, no, no." You crossed the room like a woman possessed. "Do not take those off."

He paused, hand halfway to his face. "Why?"

You stepped closer, practically beaming as you drank him in with eyes like saucers. "Because that—is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life."

He stared at you like you’d just said you were into spleens. "You’re joking."

You weren’t. "Robby," you deadpanned. "You look like the hot professor everyone has a crisis about in college. It's a rite of passage."

"I’m decades older than you."

"Exactly! And only by a decade and a half. It’s working for you." You took a step closer and lowered your voice in the hopes of enticing him. "And totally doing it for me." 

He squinted, expression unreadable for a beat. "They make me look old." But his voice was softer now—like he wasn’t entirely put off by the idea. Like maybe, just maybe, his interest had been piqued.

"They make you look like you read poetry before bed and know how to ruin someone emotionally and intellectually."

He blushed—actually blushed.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, tugging him close. "Why have you been hiding this from me?"

"Because," he mumbled, suddenly very interested in the crossword puzzle, "I thought you’d think they made me look... I don’t know. Grandpa-ish."

"You’re out of your mind," you said, tugging the paper from his hands. "This is my Roman Empire now."

He groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. "You’re never letting this go, are you."

You grinned into his hair. "Not a chance."

His fingers skimmed under the hem of his shirt on your thighs—the one he always liked seeing you in, the one he claimed looked better on you than it ever did on him. His rough thumbs brushed against your bare skin in slow, reverent passes, toying with where the fabric met the soft curve of your hips. Goosebumps followed in their wake, your skin tightening under his touch.

He lingered there, gaze locked on the contrast between cotton and skin, the intimacy of it. The way you wore his shirt like it belonged to you—like he did. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and his eyes darkened behind the lenses.

"You wore this on purpose, didn’t you?" he asked, voice low, one thumb brushing just beneath the hem like it had every right to be there.

You shrugged, playing innocent, but your smile was all heat. "It's pretty cozy."

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, eyes soft but hooded, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to kiss you or pin you to the nearest surface. "That’s not an answer."

You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. "What are you going to do about it, sir?"

His breath hitched, gaze dipping to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes, hungry and tentative all at once. You felt the shift in the air—warmth curling low in your belly as his grip tightened, just slightly, like he was reminding himself you were real. And here. And his.

"You are unbelievable," he murmured, voice low and slightly hoarse, each word curling around the edges of a smile he couldn't quite suppress. There was awe behind it—fondness and a hint of reverence, like he still couldn't believe you were his.

"And you're absurdly attractive in those frames," you murmured, fingertips sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, curling gently as you tugged him down to meet you. The kiss you gave him was slow, thorough, but it carried heat—a teasing sort of promise beneath the softness.

His hands spanned your waist, thumbs brushing bare skin with growing intent as he kissed you back, deepening it until your breath hitched against his mouth. The glasses stayed on, slightly askew, and it only made your pulse race harder.

You gasped softly when his lips left yours to trail along your jaw, then just beneath your ear, the scruff of his beard dragging deliciously against your skin. It was just long enough to rasp, to make you shiver, to remind you that this wasn't just soft Sunday morning, off-duty Dr. Robby—this was all of him. "This what does it for you?" he murmured, voice husky, lips brushing your pulse point, beard scraping lightly as he spoke.

"God, I want you to ruin me," you whispered, lips ghosting the shell of his ear, your voice low and just shy of reverent. The grin on your face was wicked, but there was no mistaking the heat behind it—the way your breath caught, the way your body leaned into his like gravity had given up pretending.

He stilled for a moment, like you’d short-circuited something vital in him. Then, wordless and driven by something primal, he kissed you again—hungrier now, hands roaming, touch reverent and desperate all at once.

You giggled against his mouth, breathless. "Race you to the bedroom. Winner gets bragging rights and top position."

His eyes flared with something dangerous and amused. "Is that a challenge?"

"I’m just saying," you murmured, backing out of his arms with a wicked grin, "you’re not the only one with stamina, Dr. Robinavitch."

The next second, you bolted.

Robby cursed softly, then took off after you with a kind of urgency that had nothing to do with competition and everything to do with getting his hands back on you.

Your laughter echoed down the hallway—right up until he caught you halfway to the bedroom, spun you around, and pressed you back against the nearest wall like he’d just won gold.

"Called it," he murmured into your skin, beard scraping, lips insistent. "I can’t wait until this is every morning. Waking up to you, going to sleep with you…" he trailed kisses along your jaw, voice low and reverent as though he were citing a prayer.

You smiled against his mouth, fingers curling into his hair. "Then don’t let me go. Not tonight. Not ever."

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and tender all at once. "You’re it for me."

The omelet could wait—left forgotten on the counter alongside the crossword and cold coffee. And the glasses? They stayed on. Fogged, slightly crooked, and forever etched into your memory.

[keferon]

Part 2 of Golem!Prowl AU!

_____________________

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Part 1. Next->

The fic under the cut⤵️

Orion looks...sick. Worried. Scared.

“Prowl, do you know what the Great Hunt is?”

Prowl tilts his head keeping up with the lists he received from the Council.

“Traditional raids on monsters made to consolidate control over the land holdings of regular Mechs.”

Orion rubs the bridge of his nose

“It's a massacre.”

Prowl twitches his wing.

“It is a measure of intimidation against creatures that cannot be negotiated with. Brutal, I don't deny that, but experience shows it works. The destructive activity of monsters lessens considerably if they know their actions can be followed by punishment.”

Orion stares at him. For a long time. Silently.

Tensely studying him, as if seeing him for the first time.

“You think killing them instead of finding a compromise is...right?”

Prowl thinks he must be treading on unstable ground.

“I think it works. That is all. Monsters do a lot of damage with their existence. They kill, destroy and pillage. If periodically reducing their numbers reduces their damage, it confirms the effectiveness of the strategy.”

“They just want to live. Primus' sake, they want to eat.”

Prowl sighs. More for appearances than for any real effect.

“I suppose I can't judge them for wanting to survive. It makes sense.”

Orion nods.

He looks oddly pensive.

“Ratchet keeps picking up wounded...” he stammers, apparently trying to find a suitable alternative to the word monster “...wounded beastformers. I've been to his house. It's generous, but I'm afraid of what will happen if he gets caught doing it.”

Prowl frowns

“He should have stopped.”

“You wouldn't understand.” sighs Orion ”Him. Shockwave. We want to help. To make things better. I don't need you to chide me for disobeying the rules, I need you to figure out how to change them. Ghosts and insecticons deserve freedom as much as we do.”

“But...”

Orion looks at him angrily.

“No. Whatever you're going to say in response to that. No. I know you're driven primarily by logic, but I need you to remember it well. All sentient beings deserve to live free. Do you understand? All of them. Period.”

Prowl rolls up the lists and interlocks his fingers in front of him. There are small scuffs on his thumbs and index fingers from constant writing. He occupies himself with running his fingers over them, feeling the difference in texture.

“Mech's freedom in such a case ends where someone else's hungry jaws begin. You can't expect monsters and Mechs to just coexist in peace if you give them freedom.”

“No” sighed Orion ”That's why I support Shockwave's idea with creating an academy for magically gifted Mechs. He's helping to show the world that so-called 'dark creatures' can be as civilized citizens as any Mech. He teaches them to find that compromise. We can't just expect centuries of hate and fear to be forgotten once the laws change. We must direct this process. To help the Mechs understand and accept each other. Guide them, you might say.”

Prowl feels a headache coming on, as it always does when Orion requires him to logically solve a problem the answer to which lies in the feelings rather than the intellect. He's not built for this. It irritates him.

Orion stops right in front of him and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me what you think of this. If...let's pretend for a second that my morality fiddles don't matter anymore. That the problem of Mechs and monsters coexisting is something you alone need to solve. And solve it in such a way that the outcome is optimal for us as a society. To maximize the number of happy citizens. What would you do?”

Prowl is silent for a moment.

Orion squeezes his shoulder lightly before continuing.

“'Free from my judgmental conclusions, Prowl. From the standpoint of pure logic. What should we do?”

What to do...Prowl's thought process finally finds a direct and understandable train of thought. Monsters make up a paltry few percent of the population of all living Mechs. The numbers fluctuate depending on which region is being considered of course.

In some cities, some types of monsters are considered just fancy Mechs. Some monsters have risen from the status of savages to being respectable Mechs over the course of history. Even Orion's best friend, Shockwave, could be regarded as a mystical creature in some regions due to his gift of flight.

Nevertheless. The percentage is still minuscule.

But even that tiny percentage takes a significant toll on the economy and quality of life, because just one uncontrollable creature can terrorize an entire city.

He notes the weight of Orion's hand on his shoulder. Not judgmental. Orion promised he wouldn't judge.

“I'd get rid of the monsters.”

“Oh” Orion blinks ”Locked them in cages? Chased them away? Killed them?”

Prowl twitches his wings

“Banishment will only move the problem in terms of space, and imprisonment isn't secure enough. It would make sense to get rid of the monsters. Once and for all. It wouldn't be pretty or merciful, but it would greatly improve life for everyone, at the cost of a tiny percentage of living beings who were already of no use.”

“And you believe that would be a good outcome?”

“I believe it would.”

“But you're not a Mech yourself.” Orion reminds “Would you be willing to be exterminated along with the rest of the creatures if your plan were put into action?”

Prowl tilts his head slightly. Just to make it easier to look at Orion.

“You created me to, as you put it, help you make the world a better place. Sometimes in order to improve something you have to cut out the factors that get in the way. It's simple logic.”

“You didn't answer my question” Orion points out ”How would you feel if I decided to take your advice and destroy all mystical creatures, including you?”

“I am not made to feel” straightens Prowl ”My job is to find solutions to problems. I gave you a solution.”

“You don't include yourself in the reckoning.” snorts Orion “Again. You talk as if you will never be affected by anything.”

As it should be, Prowl thinks. He's a conscientious worker and a ..seemingly law-abiding citizen. He does what he can to make Mech's lives better. Even though he may not be a Mech, he's doing the right thing. Why would something happen to him?

Orion removes his hand from his shoulder and shakes his head.

“'Alright. I've heard you. But I want to make it as clear as possible - what you suggested is immoral, cruel, and should never be implemented. Do you understand me? Never. If you want to build a better world, you cannot and will not build it on other people's deaths. Have I made myself clear enough?”

“Perfectly clear.”

“Good.”

-----------------

Ratchet looks...many words could be used to describe him.

He's standing in the center of the trial room with a lot of emotions written all over his face. But if Prowl had to describe - he'd say Ratchet practically radiates rage. Not violent. More of a powerless one.

The rage of a Mech who knows he's cornered, but refuses to even consider giving up and admitting defeat.

Prowl sits in a far dark corner, silently documenting the whole process.

The council is furious. They apparently discovered that Ratchet has been dragging wounded monsters to his house and healing them all this time.

Which is ... very much as expected from Ratchet.

Prowl wants Orion here, but both Orion and Shockwave are now on a diplomatic mission a few days away, so the only support Ratchet has is...Prowl. Who can't help in any way, so he just sits there and meticulously documents the whole process so that Orion can then be informed of every single detail.

The council doesn't look happy. They say that Ratchet is sabotaging the hunters' efforts to contain the monsters by his actions.They are angered by Ratchet's absolute determination to insist that he was doing the right thing.

Prowl would be impressed, if only Ratchet's stubbornness made sense.

It's simple math. Ratchet saves lives. Monsters take them.

Thus Ratchet's life has much, much more weight and is more valuable.

If Ratchet would just accept the Council's decision now and promise to stop curing monsters, the whole problem would be solved as efficiently as possible.

But Ratchet, of course, persists. Probably just because that's his nature.

Ratchet can also afford to be so stubborn because his skill level makes him incredibly valuable to the Council. Prowl knows for a fact that if any other medic were in Ratchet's shoes right now - they would have been sentenced to banishment or execution by now.

When Ratchet realizes exactly how the Council caught him, his rage is instantly replaced by shock.

This revelation is enough to startle him and make him back down. To nod and numbly swear that he will end his "blasphemous hobby."

Prowl carefully folds the scribbled scrolls into the case as the Council doors close behind both his and Ratchet's backs.

“Orion will be happy to know that you were prudent enough to avoid death.”

Ratchet shifts his gaze to him

“You knew? Knew they could see through our optics? Did you know they could find out anything about any Mech at any time?”

Prowl tucks his hands behind his back and nods politely

“Knowing things is my job.”

Ratchet sighs. Heavy. Exhausted. Doomed maybe.

“How does Orion deal with it...”

“Orion has a reputation with the Council. They consider him a decent, law-abiding Mech, so they see no point in keeping tabs on him.”

“Are you kidding?” Raetchet raises his eyebrows “Orion can't do everything he does and remain ‘decent’ in their eyes. He and Shockwave practically cuddle with every possible creature every day and all they get is a little reprimand????”

Prowl tilts his head

“Orion learned to look away in time. And he has me for everything else.”

Ratchet doesn't answer him. He rubs the bridge of his nose tiredly and starts to walk away.

His shoulders look oddly tense. He looks defeated, but not in the way a Mech would describe a slain turbofox. No. There is a deep-seated, angry determination.

A willingness to act dictated by desperation.

The news of the surveillance has thrown Ratchet off balance but not knocked him off his feet as the Council had hoped.

Prowl looks at his back and walks off in the opposite direction. The problems of living, feeling Mechs have always been and will always be mysterious to him.

Ratchet does what no one expects him to do.

He doesn't stage protests. He doesn't accept the verdict.

He leaves silently, taking with him only medical supplies and an old lantern.

The council is furious, turning over every stone in an attempt to find him, but all in vain.

Prowl's daily duties now include “keeping track of any possible news related to Ratchet.“

And then, no matter what he finds, report to Orion that he's found nothing.

Put on a little regular show for all concerned. Show the Mechs in the Council that Orion remains loyal and does his best to find and bring to justice any blasphemer whether it's a friend of his or not.

He is his purpose. But the more time passes, the harder it becomes for him to trace the path to the fulfillment of that purpose. He envies the golems whose only function is to scrub floors. Their lives are understandable. A clean floor is a temporary but easily attainable goal. They are happy to fulfill the goal for which they were created. And then they're happy knowing their job is done well, until the floor gets dirty again.

Prowl is walking towards his goal, but it's not getting any closer. He knows what he needs to do to get there, but the variables are constantly changing and he has to adjust his course of action each time according to new information, conditions, and Orion's opinion on them.

Politics is infinitely more complicated than mopping floors after all.

————————————

Orion doesn't turn around on him as they walk down the hall. But Prowl can physically feel the attention focused on him.

“Prowl. Did you know I was awarded today for my ''outstanding service'' by the entire Council?”

“I did not.

“They've gone through all the reports and discovered that according to the logs me and my mechs are performing excellently when it comes to eliminating mystical threats.”

“Congratulations.”

“It's funny that you feel the need to congratulate me too” Orion continues ”Because I certainly didn't give orders to eliminate anyone.”

Their pacing doesn't falter. They continue to walk calmly down the hallway as if nothing is happening. But Prowl can practically taste the increased tension.

“Prowl” says Orion “Why is the Council rewarding me for murder? And where are the Mechs they think I killed now?”

Prowl checks the scrolls. Not because he doesn't remember. Just to buy some time to formulate an answer.

“They were the inevitable casualties. I took charge of their destruction. On your behalf.”

“You know how I feel about killing.”

“I know.” nods Prowl for some reason. Why? Not that Orion can see it “I also know how the Council feels about Mechs showing suspicious activity. They would have started watching you as soon as they noticed you were letting monsters slip away from you suspiciously often.”

Orion...sounds... conflicted. He sounds struggling.

“You killed them.”

“I gave the order. As any other hunter would have done in my place.”

Orion stops so abruptly that Prowl doesn't catch the moment and bumps into his back.

“We're supposed to be better than other hunters Prowl! How can you still not grasp that concept!!!”

Orion looks furious. Prowl discreetly looks around.

Around them is a relatively empty hall. Windows covered by heavy curtains. The cleaning golems scurrying back and forth.

“I understand” he says “But let me remind you that you cannot test their trust infinitely. Your 'being better' rests on your reputation. And it's my job to make sure your reputation lives up to it.”

Orion looks at him...Prowl isn't even sure how to describe it. Usually he has to argue with Orion's logic, proving his point but this time...Orion is the one arguing with him.

It feels strange. Uncomfortable.

He's doing everything Orion wanted him to do, but for the sake of it he has to do something Orion can't stand.

Orion clenches and unclenches his fists helplessly. Rubbing the fabric of his cloak.

“Shockwave can save lives without killing anyone.”

“Shockwave is one unfortunate act away from serious consequences” shakes his head Prowl “His academy is looking more and more like his own small army every day. His students are not loyal to the Council, they are loyal to Shockwave. And the Council knows that. And will use it. And it won't be pretty when it happens.”

“No...” shakes his head Orion, not addressing anyone in particular ”No no no no no...”

Prowl can understand why Orion is upset. But he also knows he's right this time. Shockwave may look like a fine example of mercy, but he walks on the very edge of the law and any wrong move will instantly turn him from “out of the box thinker” to renegade.

The Council will come for his head and the Council will get his head because Shockwave will have nothing to prove his loyalty with.

Orion will. Prowl made sure of that.

Orion can bend the rules, can borrow the Council's trust, can do all sorts of reprehensible things. He can stumble and fall and then fall a couple more times and find that it doesn't hurt him because Prowl caught him even before he stumbled.

He did it at the cost of lives. Yes.

But Orion's life is far more valuable than the lives of monsters.

Society doesn't need monsters to become better, but society needs Orion. Monsters need Orion. Because if Orion is gone, no one else will care about his idealistic goal.

“Sometimes I forget how creepy you can be...” mutters Orion ”You're going to betray me sooner or later.”

“I could never betray you.” Prowl twitches his wing.

“You've successfully betrayed what I believe in.”

“It's fine with me if you hate me for it. As long as you are alive, safe, and can continue your quest.”

Orion falls silent.

He turns away to stare at a strip of light from a nearby window. There are beautiful, wrought iron grates that cast an intricate, curved shadow on the floor and walls.

A golem janitor hurries past them.

“I hate it,” Orion sighs.

“It's understandable. But you can't change the system from the inside without becoming part of it first.”

“I was hoping I could become part of it without becoming a murderer.”

“It's okay” says Prowl ”You don't have to. That's what you have me for.”

Orion twitches.

Shockwave falls.

Prowl isn't there to see for himself, but a lot of rumors reach him. Lots. Lots of rumors.

The Mechs say the time of the Great Hunt has come.

They say that when the hunters arrived on the Academy's doorstep, Shockwave didn't let them in.

They say. He stood in front of the gates.

With sword in one hand and the Primus Covenant in the other, and declared that his school was a sanctuary for all living beings in need of protection.

Claimed that anyone who dared set foot inside with a weapon would have to go through him.

“And they retreated!” gestures Orion frantically ”They didn't dare test him! They backed away from the walls of the Academy. I don't know how many monsters were left alive in the forests that night, but none of Shockwave's students were harmed...”

Prowl listens with a healthy dose of wariness

“The Council wouldn't just let him do that.”

Orion begins nervously winding circles around the room.

“You're right, you're right. You're right now and you were right back then. They're going to bring him before the Court by tomorrow, and...”

“There's no chance of that ending well,...is there?" Prowl finishes his thought.

Orion looks pained

“They'll be going through everything he's been up to. Every forged document, every enrolled Mech who by all criteria should be considered a monster. Every time he sheltered them from the Council instead of destroying them. They'll realize what he's been doing and they won't like it at all.”

Prowl...trying to sound reassuring.

“Shockwave has tremendous support from his Academy. There's a chance the Council will be afraid of invoking their wrath and won't judge Shockwave too harshly.”

Orion continues to walk in circles

“You think so?”

“There is a good chance.”

Prowl finds Orion in Sickbay. Which is very disturbing and wrong, because Orion was supposed to be at the Trial. Supporting Shockwave and begging the Council to relent.

But Orion is in Sick Bay. When he shouldn't be.

And he's covered in ugly dark burns. From something Prowl can't recognize.

This is all wrong. It's all--

“What happened at the trial?”

Orion sounds. Startled.

“There was no Trial.”

“What?”

Orion sounds as if something inside him has cracked. In every sense of the phrase.

“The Trial hasn't even had time to begin. He...” Orion clutches his trembling fingers, hoping to still them, but it has no tangible effect. His shoulders are trembling.

He looks like his whole body could be torn apart with one careless touch. “They asked him if he would plead guilty to aiding and abetting dark creatures. All they had time to ask was if he realized he was wrong.”

An uncomfortable, prickly feeling settles in Prowl's mind.

"And?”

Orion squeezes his fingers so hard the creaking of hinges becomes audible.

“It...I...Prowl, his very spark began to ooze dark magic. It was horrible, it was like.. it was eating him from the inside. The entire courtroom became darker than night, many Mechs got burned. I've never seen anything like this before! He..It.. started attacking Mechs and destroying everything...it was like it went crazy...it attacked me and I had to...Prowl I had to fight it! I didn't...I'd heard about it happening but I believed until the last minute that I wouldn't have to face it...”

Gears of chaotic detail fall into place in Prowl's mind.

“Shockwave...turned into a demon...?”

Orion nods shakily

“The Council didn't even have a chance to sentence him or spare him or even sort out what happened.....

He stated that he did not consider himself guilty for what he had done and...Primus was the one who made the judgment before anyone else could...”

That's... terrifying really. For a number of reasons. Losing a close friend is awful, being subjected to such merciless punishment is awful, but also...

What sends a chill down Prowl's back is the moral implication that such punishment carries.

Orion, as if reading his thoughts, raises his gaze to him

“Is what we are doing...wrong? I don't...does Primus think helping monsters is worthy of punishment?”

Now that's a really reasonable question.

Shockwave would say that Primus is merciful and would never condemn a Mech for an act of kindness. But Shockwave ended up being condemned.

Ratchet would say that he doesn't care about Primus' opinion because Primus isn't real. But Ratchet isn't here.

Prowl wants to say that it doesn't matter whether or not Primus thinks they're wrong, what matters is that he can at any moment force his justice on any living spark, so his concept of right has to become Orion's too, or else he's doomed. But Orion is definitely in no state to have a philosophical argument. He looks shattered and Prowl almost instinctively is about to go and find Shockwave, but remembers that option is no longer available.

He's not made for this. Shockwave has always been the one to cheer Orion up on a bad day. Not Prowl, no. Prowl isn't sure what to do so he just sits down next to him and gently places a hand on Orion's shoulder. The one where he can't see the burns, so it shouldn't hurt.

“I don't. I'm used to always relying on your point of view as a reference for what's right and what's wrong.”

“I know” runs a shaky hand over his face Orion “But it's not like I'm perfect. I try, god, I try but just like with the logical part - my vision isn't flawless. Have I been...wrong all this time? Trying to disrupt Primus' intended vision? Maybe what I've been trying to fix never needed fixing. Maybe it's just me being so stupid and not understanding things maybe...???”

Orion cuts himself off mid sentence, realizing that he's started raising his voice and waving his arms around again. He sits back down on the medical bed and curls back up into a miserable ball.

“What should I do....”

“I don't know,” Prowl repeats awkwardly.

He is his goal. But his goal ..doesn't exist anymore?

He doesn't know where to put himself.

Golems are made to fulfill requests. But Orion's request system has been evolving and complicating for so long that Prowl can't tell where its boundaries are anymore.

He feels lost.

——————————

Orion stops cold.

“What...”

Prowl, standing at his right hand looks equally puzzled.

They are in a spacious courtyard bordering directly on the Council building. It's a very beautiful, open and spacious place because it was originally built with large crowds of Mechs in mind. There's wide walkways, a massive circular plaza with fountains and statues.

And right now, it's filled to the brim with Mechs, most of whom Prowl is seeing for the first time. They're all wearing knight armor and carrying weapons, however still kept in their scabbards.

They look like a small army. A very, very diverse army, Prowl realizes. Because there are almost no regular Mechs among them.

Orion looks... distraught.

Mechs? Monsters? A few knights separate and come closer, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Orion Pax.”

There is so much grief and disbelief in Orion's eyes that it physically hurts to look at him.

When he begins to speak his voice sounds hoarse, like someone has poured sand down his throat.

“What...what are you doing here...?”

The knight standing in front of everyone ceremoniously places his palm on his spark.

“We are here to fulfill the last will of our mentor and your friend. Shockwave has decreed in his last will that in the event of his death his legacy must pass to you and those of us who wish to carry on his work must publicly pledge our allegiance to your will.”

Orion clutches his hands together to keep them from starting to shake again.

“But...I was there. I...your mentor was slain by my hands...how can you..."

"It doesn't matter. Everything that was his is now yours." smiles the knight sadly "We will make sure his legacy lives on. And even if the Academy falls - you can always count on us."

At the same time as he finishes speaking, the knight in blue armor drops to one knee, pulling Shockwave's sword from its sheath and holding it out respectfully to Orion... who looks like he's about to start crying.

He dazedly accepts the sword, twitching in surprise when it turns out to be heavier than expected and probably tries to say something, but all that comes out is a short sorrowful sigh.

He just.

Clutches the sword to his chest, watching in disbelief as all the arriving mechs get down on one knee following the blue knight. There aren't that many mechs, but at this point - they seem to rival the sea.

Prowl knows some of them. Many of them made their way to Shockwave after Orion found them. There's the harpy over there who nearly ripped Orion's head off the first time they met. A few ghosts he can remember the faces of but doesn't know the names. He'd had a long argument with Orion that day, trying to convince him that he shouldn't take their word for it when they promised to make it up to him.

And now they're all here. In beautiful new armor. Executing their mentor's last will and testament.

Just like regular Mechs, only a little eccentric looking.

The crowd of hunters that has come to find out what's going on looks as speechless and dumbfounded as Orion.

" What" Orion also gets down on one knee to be on the same level as the knight "what's your name?"

Prowl squints warily from behind Orion's shoulder. The blue mech looks normal, but to be honest, there's no way someone coming out of the Shockwave Academy is going to be an normal plain mech. There has to be a catch somewhere.

"My name is Skids," smiles the knight shyly. "I am...was...Shockwave's best student."

"You are very brave Skids" smiles Orion sorrowfully "I promise to do my best to take care of Shockwave's legacy. And you."

Orion drops his head on the table tiredly.

"This is crazy..."

Prowl pulls an important document from under Orion's head

"It's also quite devious. Shockwave told them specifically to swear to you where all comers can see it. So there's no way for the Council to accuse you of purposely swaying an army of monsters to your side. Everyone saw that this gift was given by force. Now you have many allies with unique skills who are loyal to you and the Council won't try to take them away because they are firmly convinced that you are loyal to the Council."

Prowl examines the document for damage before setting it aside.

"It is..."

"Shockwave gave you an opportunity."

"And I don't know what to do with it!" raises his head Orion "Shockwave was smarter than me and made a lot of plans in case of...I don't know...anything?? I didn't...Prowl. We've been down this path for so long and I was always sure there would be something good at the end of it. Or at least better than it is now..."

Orion rubs his chin and shakes his head awkwardly

"...But if there's only the wrath of Primus and endless darkness at the end...I can't ask anyone to follow me there. I'm not sure if I can keep going myself..."

He sighs helplessly

"I'm not even sure if that even matters."

"The chance that Shockwave would try to use you in some way was about twenty-eight percent."

Orion twitches

"What?"

"I understand that you're hurt by his...fate." Says Prowl "But have you considered the possibility that Shockwave was being punished for betraying you rather than the Council?"

Orion doesn't even answer at first. Just looks at him dazed and bitter.

"Prowl...no. He couldn't have."

"I'm just speculating" shrugs Prowl "Shockwave was punished but as far as I know God didn't bother to name the exact charge. We don't know one hundred percent what exactly caused his...sentence. He may have betrayed the Council's ideas, or he may have betrayed yours."

They both just exist in silence for a while. Processing the information.

"If...and I mean if!!! If Shockwave was convicted of harboring monsters, then everything we've been doing all this time can be considered useless blasphemy..." says Orion slowly "...but if he was punished for something else..."

"...then that would mean there's nothing wrong with your idea." finishes Prowl.

Orion frowns

"It would also mean that Shockwave lied to me..."

Prowl nods. The situation is ugly no matter which way you look at it.

Shockwave, as Prowl knows him, would hardly have framed Orion, but Mechs tend to go to great lengths to avoid execution.

If Shockwave had shifted some of the blame to Orion then, it would have partially saved him. Was that what he was going to do? Was this what Primus had stopped him from doing?

Orion's finials twitch slowly

"I don't know Prowl. I don't know what to do. I don't want anyone else to get hurt because of my fantasies."

Orion is hard to read, but right now he's an open book.

Prowl tilts his head

"You're scared."

Orion looks. Defeated. Crumpled.

Discolored.

" I am."

Prowl can't work with that. He's used to solving logical problems and making lists and strategies.

He doesn't know how to get someone to stop being scared.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I don't know." mutters Orion "I don't know, I have no idea. It's too much...All these new knights, this whole council situation and now you're also saying that the mech I treasured the most could actually be a liar and...just leave me alone."

"But..."

"Just go away!" shakes his head Orion "Go find something else to do, find a hobby, I don't know! Get out of my head and out of my personal life!"

Prowl nods silently.

Places a couple papers in their places and silently walks out the door.

Gestures a greeting to some mech passing by.

And is completely unsure of what to do with himself.

Orion's too stunned by everything that's happened to give him a clear purpose. And without a purpose, he...he's gone.

He continues to stand by the closed door.

A thought runs obsessively through his mind.

If Shockwave was sentenced for something no one knew about, then punishing him the moment of that trial was a truly terrible decision and even worse timing.

But if Shockwave was sentenced for helping monsters...Prowl isn't sure why his mind resists the idea.

Maybe he's not being objective because he shares Orion's views and aspirations.

Maybe because he has looked at the entire square filled with dangerous monsters and has seen nothing but sorrow and respect in them.

The idea comes naturally.

Then God must be wrong.

He looks at the cleaning golems again. He envies them.

They are peace and contentment.

They are a clear and simple goal.

Probably the biggest stress that happens to them is random mechs passing by and interfering with their cleaning.

And then there's Prowl, standing by with no meaning or purpose and wishing he could throw something heavy because the one who gets in his way is an indefinable force of nature and a complex system of values and beliefs created by millions of years of cultural development....

But Primus can't stop him, can he?

Prowl is not alive. He has no emotion so that his intentions can be categorized as evil, but more importantly he has no spark so that its magic can turn him into a demon.

He is his purpose. His purpose is his god. And Primus stands in his way.

He turns around and walks away.

[screamlet]

♞: Caring for each other while ill

thank you for the prompt! have another 1.2k of fluff, this time set during the summer between s7/s8 when bucktommy was new and anything we wanted it to be, lol. from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

---

On a really good, horny day, Buck might be strong enough to haul Tommy off his living room floor and drop him on the couch. That's not one of those days, though: Buck is sick, Tommy is sick, and they might be better off dying together in each other's arms on the floor of the loft.

"I should just go home."

"Tommy, you fainted when you tried to put on a sock."

They're lying side-by-side on the floor of the loft; Tommy did try to put on a sock and faint, but Buck caught him before he shattered his skull on the floor. Once he had saved Tommy's life, he felt vertigo kick in and slowly lowered himself to the floor, too, where he and Tommy could lie together for the last 10-15 minutes of their lives.

"I don't need socks to drive," Tommy answers.

Buck laughs quietly. "Don't make me laugh, everything hurts."

"It's too early for flu season, it's the fucking Fourth of July."

"Eighth."

"It's the fucking Eighth of July."

"You know, the Declaration of Independence was signed on July 4th, but on July 8th at 12 PM, it was read aloud in public for the first time."

"So… Happy Public Declaration of the Declaration of Independence Day?"

"It's a little wordy."

"Just a little."

"And it doesn't need to be flu season for my niece to get us sick." Buck turns his head and pouts. "I'm sorry you're sick. I'm sorry I'm sick, too, but I'm more sorry you're sick."

"Don't apologize. People get sick sometimes. This'll probably be the last time I'm sick, though, since I'm gonna die from this, whatever it is."

"No you're not." Suddenly Buck's eyes widen as he flails at Tommy. "Are you? You don't have like a compromised immune system or anything? Are you actually dying? Tommy, we're first responders, why haven't we called 9-1-1?"

Tommy's eyes close for a beat. "I'm not dying, I'm just a very melodramatic 39-year-old man who doesn't want to be sick in front of this guy he really likes."

"Oh," Buck says.

Tommy turns his head to look at Buck. "I'm sorry. I was saving that for my deathbed confession, but that could be now. You can't cringe at a guy's deathbed confession, Evan. It's the law."

Buck doesn't—he doesn't know how to—how he can talk to Tommy. He doesn't know how to keep up with him when he's so—he's funny and flirty and sexy and sometimes he seems so serious that everything in Buck's soul quakes in a way he doesn't understand because he's never felt it before. There's a hundred, a thousand things Buck wants to say to him: he wants to flirt back, he wants to be funny, he wants to say something that will get Tommy to smile in this way he has, when the grin breaks across his face like a sunrise Buck stayed up all night waiting to see. He's so—he's so much, and Buck wants so much.

Buck softly replies, "Okay, I won't."

Tommy's eyes soften, too, like Buck had done or said any of the things that might make Tommy fall in love with him. He hadn't, though. Maybe Tommy just likes him.

"Is it more embarrassing to DoorDash Gatorade and more cold medicine, or to text Eddie and make him our DoorDash guy?" Buck asks.

Tommy's eyes crinkle a little. "Do you think either of those entities have the capacity for shame?"

"No, it's me, I'm ashamed. Which is more embarrassing?"

"Well how about this." Tommy closes his eyes and sighs as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone like it's made out of lead. "You keep your shame and I will get a whole pharmacy delivered to your door, and no one will ever know that you have a cold, too."

"Now it just sounds silly. It's fine, I'll do it."

Tommy swings a hand to Buck and holds it out. Buck rolls his eyes and takes it, links their fingers together. "Let me treat you to some electrolytes and cold medicine before we spend our 48 off on this floor, choking on our own phlegm."

"Yeah, not even each other's," Buck says. "I bet your phlegm tastes great."

It slips out of Buck's mouth and makes Tommy stutter and laugh with his whole achy body. Buck's so embarrassed and so proud and so embarrassed, but how can he want to wither and die when Tommy's looking at him so—

The way Buck looks at him? This warm look like—like he can't look away from Buck, the way Buck can't look away from him.

"I can't believe you've been depriving the queer community of hits like that all these years," Tommy replies, still grinning at him. Buck squeezes his hand and hopes this lightheaded feeling is just—it's that he likes his boyfriend, not that worms are eating his brain or anything.

"Hey, uh." Tommy's hand has loosened around Buck's. Buck wants him back, but maybe he's letting go for a good reason. Or a bad one. Buck doesn't care, he wants it back. "So I'm gonna build this delivery order to end all orders, and then maybe…"

"Maybe…"

Tommy turns his head, but he looks less confident than he did 90 seconds ago. "I know we had really amazing plans for this 48 off, so many things we were going to do to each other's bodies that didn't involve cold compresses and acetaminophen. But now that's all been crushed… would it be so bad if we… like if we still, I don't know, spent them together?"

Buck stares at him, long enough that Tommy looks away and shakes his head. "Never mind, I was—"

"Tommy, you fainted trying to put on a sock," Buck interrupts. "You're not leaving here until I say you can."

"I mean, that sounds very hot and in charge of you, but this was supposed to be a fun little weekend. You didn't sign up for—"

"Yes I did," Buck says. "You're gonna stay here until we're strong enough to fuck each other's brains out again. Upstairs. On the bed." Buck links his fingers with Tommy's again and squeezes (clutches) his hand. "It might take a while. We might even need to take a sick day."

There's something around Tommy's eyes that Buck wants to rub away. Tommy, his fun Tommy, the one who's been funny enough to keep him on the floor for this long, is slowly coming back, but Buck wants—he wants. He wants to be the one to say or do the thing that gets Tommy to stop thinking dumb things like is he gonna kick me out of his house when I'm sick. Just like Tommy makes him laugh and think, Buck wants to be the one to—

He just really wants to be something, mean something, to him.

"If you mean it." Tommy lets out a long-suffering sigh. "If you'll have me, Evan Buckley, I would really like to take a sick day with you."

Buck nods with more confidence than he actually has. "Good. Cause you're gonna. Add some popsicles on there, too."

"Oh, good idea, you're very smart."

Tommy flashes him a grin that makes Buck an even weaker puddle on the floor. Good thing he doesn't have to get up yet so he can lie here, watching Tommy order them Gatorade and popsicles and cold medicine, and try not to fall in love with him.

[chloe-skywalker]

Smarter - Ghostface / Billy & Stu

Billy Loomis x Fem!Reader

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Murder mentioned?

Word count: 618

Summary: When they're talking about the murder in town Y/n makes a comment that gain’s two boy’s attention.

Authors Note: Not really a romantic mention but they're intrigued by her. First Ever Scream Imagine, it’s short but it’s a start!

Also

Happy Halloween!!!!!

I'm at Horror Nights !

Masterlist

Scream Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“What do you think Y/n?” Sidney asked looking to her friend that sat in front of her as they all ate lunch around the fountain.

“About what?” Y/n asked having zoned out of their conversation, she turned her attention up to Sidney.

“The murderer in town? Duh.” Tatum teased her friend playfully, rolling her eye’s.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows and asked. “What about them?”

“Why do you think they're doing it?” Sidney was curious even if it brought up feel’s and memories she’d rather forget. Y/n alway’s thought of points and views none of them considered. She looked at it in a different, less gernetic way and it gave them a different perspective.

“Could be mindless killing.” Y/n shrugged thinking about it but even to her the kill’s being mindless killing’s just for the hell of it didn’t seem correct.

“Doubtful. It’s gotta have a motive, otherwise why call first?” Randy shook his head in disagreement as he took a sip of his soda.

“True. Maybe it’s to raise the stakes? Build adrenaline for a better chase.” Y/n tilted her head with a smirk at the corner’s of her lips. The killer called to get their victims into a false sense of security before making them completely terrified for their lives. They were playing with their prey.

“Before WHAM! Spill your guts.” Stu said loudly making Sidney and Tatum jump and Y/n laugh at his usual Stu antics, Billy just shook his head while Randy scoffed.

“It’s all so disgusting.” Sidney shook her head and her face contorted into a very disgusted look.

“Sick.” Tatum fake gagged.

“Could’ve been more creative.” Y/n shrugged her shoulders thinking the killer wasn’t very creative besides the phone call. Even though she had spoken lowly in a almost inaudible volume it caught two of the boy’s complete attention.

“Let’s get to class.” Sidney grabbed her bag, Y/n and Tatum followed suit with Randy on their heels as Billy and Stu stayed behind under the disguise of cleaning up.

“Hear that Billy? More creative.” Stu turned his head towards his best friend and partner in crime.

“Fuck off.” Billy shoved Stu’s shoulder to make him back up a bit. Billy’s attention was still on Y/n as he watched her retreating form. Without even knowing she had guessed correctly about ‘Ghostface’ techniques and it didn’t surprise Billy but it did make the wheels start turning in his mind. Especially when she made the comment about the kill’s not being very creative.

“You think she knows?” Stu questioned in a whisper so others wouldn’t hear their conversation.

“I think she suspect’s.” Billy had noticed Y/n’s eye’s flick to him and to Stu when she answered Tatum’s question. But whether it was from her having a feeling they were behind the murders or just because they were friends Billy didn’t know and it frankly bothered him. Y/n was smarter than the other’s and if anyone would figure it out Billy’s money was on Y/n.

“Does that change the plan?” Stu hoped it didn’t, he rather enjoyed Y/n’s company and he liked that he could make her laugh. She got his humor and she didn’t judge him or view him as just the clown. Stu didn’t want her to be added to the list of who needed to die.

“No. We knew she was smarter than the others. This doesn’t change anything.” Billy didn’t see this as an interference to their original plans. Y/n was not on the kill list but she would be more watched from now on. To make sure she didn’t spoil anything. They had other plans for her . . .

Taglists:

@padawancat97 @maryvibess @gruffle1

[grandline-fics]

OHHHH I GOT AN AMAZING IDEA WHAT IF READER DOESN'T GIVE ONE PIECE MEN A KISS BACK AFTER THEY KISSED READER?

DESCRIPTION: When you don’t kiss them back

WARNINGS: None. This isn’t an angst fic I promise, established relationships in everyone’s but Law’s

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Doflamingo, Law, Ace. (Doflamingo's section can be interpreted as being part of the Immune To Your Charms universe but doesn't necessarily have to be)

WORDS: 2,561

A/N: I'm back after being sick so my writing is still a bit on the rusty side! Thank you for this request and I hope you like it. I kept everything light hearted and more on the playful side with this request which works out well since today's April Fools Day. Enjoy 💕

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

———————

SHANKS

Sometimes on the Grand Line there are moments of monotony, even for a crew as adventurous and boisterous as the Red Hair pirates. With the previous island long gone and no new island in sight for fun and entertainment in sight, you all had to find your own ways to pass the time. Lounging in one of the hammocks strung up on the deck for these long stretches of nothing you cast your sights around the Red Force, searching for inspiration. For a while nothing came to mind. Then when your gaze found your Captain and lover at the other side of the deck, you slowly smiled as an idea began to form. Shifting in the hammock, you made yourself comfortable and slowly let your eyes slide closed while you waited for your moment.  

Shanks missed you. Your watch had been the last one of the night and early hours so when he woke, your side of the bed was cold. Despite the general lack of activity as they sailed calmly he still had his duties to oversee first before completely relaxing. Finally when he ensured nothing else needed to be done, he made his way directly to where you were lounging. It was cute how peaceful you looked but there was too much space on the hammock for his liking. With a grin he slid his arm under you and effortlessly had you lifted just enough to lie down before settling you to rest against him. 

You were more than used to moments like these so you merely let Shanks adjust you both with your eyes closed and body relaxed. Shanks softly spoke your name to gently coax your mind to sharpen to focus on him. Holding back the urge to laugh you instead let out a soft hum of acknowledgement, letting him know you heard him but still you didn’t open your eyes. You didn’t need to to know the half pout beginning to pull at his lips. “Didn’t get my good morning kiss today.”

At that you finally opened you eyes and Shanks grinned broadly at you, of course that would get your attention. He leant in to get the kiss he was dying for all morning but when his lips met yours he frowned because at the very last second you’d pressed your lips into a tight line. This was not the kiss he’d been so eager for. You didn’t kiss him back. Shanks lightly narrowed his eyes to see the playful glimmer dance in yours. Immediately he knew you were only doing this to be a menace and not because he’d actually done something to deserve being denied your affection. 

Shanks chuckled softly, this was any easily remedied situation. With a confident smile firmly in place he leant in again. You eyed Shanks carefully, all too aware of what you were getting in for when you made the decision to mess with him. You remained as relaxed as possible beside Shanks as he pressed his lips against the crown of your head, then your temple. Slowly he moved precisely, placing tender kisses against your skin. He made sure to kiss your cheek, the tip of your nose, the corner of your mouth, and your jaw. But never your lips. Finally he placed a kiss against your jaw before moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck, his lips strategically near the spot you both knew was a weakness of yours. Then without warning he took a breath and blew a raspberry against your skin causing you to laugh and struggle away from the persistent ticklish feeling. “Okay, okay you win!” You grinned, pushing at his head. “You win!” 

Finally relenting, Shanks pulled back to grin at you broadly, his arm around you tightening to keep you close against him again. Closing the last amount of distance you granted Shanks his prize and kissed him deeply, smiling into it when he happily returned it. 

DOFLAMINGO

How you came to find yourself in Dressrosa’s Palace was still unexpected to you at times. Even more shocking were the circumstances that led you and Doflamingo to get together in a functioning and actually loving relationship. Something that also threw Dressrosa’s King off too on many occasions, not that he’d openly admit it. Were everyone saw the fearsome, bloodthirsty pirate, you…well you saw the bloodthirsty pirate aspect of that too. However you never feared the man, it was physically impossible to feel it. You could most certainly feel frustration with him and annoyance, you were the only one to never back down and confront him on anything he did that you didn’t agree with. More than anything though, you felt safe with him and reassured that you were literally the only person for him.

Today though you felt playfully curious, wondering just how much Doflamingo would put up with your mischief and random testing of his limits in patience. You strode casually into his office and smiled sweetly, watching Doflamingo pause in his work to sit back slightly in his seat to observe your approach. Even with his glasses hiding his eyes from view, you could read his body well enough to know he was already anticipating some sort of nonsense from you. Since it was you though, it was nonsense he welcomed and he grinned. “Now what’s brewing in that mind of yours today?”

“Can’t I grace you with my presence?” You asked with a smirk as you sat on the edge of the desk and lightly tapped your lips, a wordless request for a kiss. Knowing that wasn't all you were up to Doflamingo still grinned wider and leant forward, his lips pressed against yours. The second he noticed you didn’t reciprocate it he pulled back to regard you carefully. Innocently you blinked at him and tapped your lips again. With a dramatic sigh, Doflamingo brought his lips to yours and just like before you didn’t return the action. He pulled back to frown down at you.

“What’s wrong? Don’t you want to kiss me?” You asked, your expression still a perfect mask of false concern.

“You going to keep sitting there like a statue?” He asked with a small teasing grin. “Don’t you want me to kiss you?”

“I do but the thing is I was working out the numbers and you owe me a lot of kisses before I can kiss you back.” You explained sweetly and shrugging lightly. “Until it’s even, I can’t kiss you.”

“And how did I amass such a debt, exactly?” Doflamingo chuckled, finding this far more entertaining that reading overzealous reports from middle rank pirates under his command looking to impress him. “Since I’m King, can’t I pardon myself?”

“Won’t work with me Doffy.” You shook your head, swiftly dodging this time when he tried to claim your lips while you were speaking. Quickly you pinched his chin and stared at him with playful severity. “I need ample payment. If kisses are too simple, you can get creative to get rid of the debt.”

“Creative, huh?” Doflamingo grinned pressing a kiss against your unmoving lips. “A kiss is one. How many does a back rub take off my bill?”

“Oh a really good one is five.” You told him, you should have expected he’d find a way to enjoy this instead of get impatient or agitated. Doflamingo laughed and leaned in a confident grin shaping his lips that made you suspicious. 

“If I send Trebol on a mission?” Your eyes glinted immediately but you still didn’t take the initial offering. This was a negotiation after all. “Oh and he can’t return for at least two weeks.”

Immediately you broke out into a grin and tapped your lips once more. This time when his lips met yours, you returned it eagerly. If it meant you weren’t bothered by Trebol for a while, he could have as many as he wanted.

LAW

“Is it true that when people kiss their brains release a hormone that’s the same as when they use drugs?” You asked curiously from your spot on the sofa, looking over to watch Law pause in reading his medical notes to meet your gaze. It wasn’t rare for you to ask random questions like is. A lot of the times it was because you were genuinely curious but other times you were asking because you either wanted to fluster or toy with him in some way. Today’s question seemed to one of those days. His eyes narrowed slightly, trying to not give an outward reaction.

Subtly clearing his throat Law returned to his medical notes, focusing on the words on the paper and not on your question echoing in his mind. “Something like that.”

“So you could get addicted if you kissed someone enough times?”

“Not exactly…” Law began, tapping his foot lightly on the floor. He was about to go into the complicated biology and chemistry of it all but then you asked another question.

“Is that why you haven’t kissed me yet?” You grinned as Law all but choked on nothing. “Scared you’ll get addicted?” His widened eyes looked to you again and he was thankful no-one else was around to have heard it otherwise it would have made things more embarrassing; for them to see him begin to blush so childishly. 

Instead it was just the two of you, staying behind to watch the Polar Tang while they explored. It had been peaceful and calm, just what he wanted up until you threw your bomb of a question into the usually content atmosphere that occurred when you were together. Now he had to try and force his mind to restart, to form an actual response instead of just the blank, openmouthed floundering he was currently doing. It only made things worse to see you so thoroughly pleased with yourself, your lips curved into the proudest smile. As your Captain, he should have reprimanded you but he could only imagine finally kissing you, doing what the two of you had been dancing around for a while now; finally give in. “Wouldn’t get addicted if I kissed you.”

You shifted in your seat and pulled yourself closer to Law, eyes firmly on his face. Gently you took the forgotten medical notes from his hand and set them behind you before leaning in. “I’m willing to test the theory if you are.”

There was no backing out of the challenge now, not after he’d boldly stated he’d be fine if he kissed you. Besides he didn’t want to back down, not when he could see a hopeful shine in your eyes under the playfulness. Carefully he set his hand on your side and leant in, pressing his lips to yours only to glower when you smiled but made no further response. He pulled back to scowl at you. “The hell you call that?”

“What? We were testing if you’d get addicted if you kissed me, not the other way around.” You protested with a grin. “So did it work?”

“Idiot! Do it right this time.” Law snapped but without his usual sharpness in his tone.

“You want to kiss me again already? Sounds like you are addicted after-” Your playful taunt was cut off when Law’s lips claimed yours. It had taken all of your restraint the first time to hold back in kissing Law and there was no way you were ever going to stop yourself again. Despite all your teasing, maybe you were the one that was going to prove the theory right and be the addicted one. 

ACE

The feast was in full swing, plentiful food and drink seemingly never-ending and that was perfectly fine for you and the rest of the Whitebeard crew. You would have thought that you all would have grown tired of the partying by now but because of the close relationship of the crew it never lost its impact. Hundreds of parties and feasts in your memory and all of them feeling like it was the very first one. Tonight you and the others made yourselves comfortable in the festive environment amongst the civilians of the island town you were staying at. Letting the infectious joy heighten in you, you looked around with a smile and soon set your sights on Ace who as always was the life of an already lively party. 

Ace was surrounded by civilians and crew alike, talking animatedly and warmly. For the residents of the town you could see they felt as if they’d known the pirate for a lot longer than a mere evening but that was your boyfriend all over, able to put anyone at ease and give everyone the right amount of attention. It was something you always admired about him. In the middle of whatever he was talking about you froze when Ace suddenly met your gaze and pointed you out with a broad grin. The civilians looked to you excitedly while the rest of the crew in earshot rolled their eyes in amusement; most likely having heard this story for many times before. You offered them a smile and small wave before getting pulled into your own conversation again.

It wasn’t long before you heard hurried footsteps sound from behind you. You turned and were pulled immediately into a kiss by Ace. You reacted against your initial instinct and kept your mouth firmly closed. It hadn’t been your intention to not kiss Ace back and when he pulled back with a pout you swiftly grabbed his hand. Quickly you swallowed the mouthful of food you’d been eating before your boyfriend appeared. “Sorry, that was just really bad timing.”

“It’s never bad timing though if I get to kiss you though.”

“That’s sweet but it is bad timing if I’ve got a mouth full of food, Ace.” You argued with a laugh only to roll your eyes when Ace grinned and shook his head.

“Still not seeing a downside to the scenario. Two of my favourite things right there; food and you.”

“You’re so weird.” You laughed while Ace grinned down at you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly.

“And you love me for it.”

“Sadly that’s true. I’m madly in love with every part of you, including your food obsession.” You smiled and leaned further into the comforting embrace you were in. At this time of the evening, when he’d had his fill of food and drink Ace became more affectionate and clingier than usual. As long as he was in touching range of you by this time he was happy to continue the feasts and parties for another handful of hours. Reaching up you adjusted Ace’s hat so you could see more of his face and pulled him closer, pressing a kiss to his lips in silent apology for your unintentional rejection. Then you brought him into a second, deeper kiss, only pulling back when your attentions were grabbed by some of the civilians calling for Ace to tell them another story. You sighed slightly and pulled back, remaining securely in his arms. As fun as the feasts and parties were, you couldn’t wait to get back onto the ship and set sail again since it meant less people would be vying for Ace’s attention and you’d get him all to yourself again.

——————————————-

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