#imagine previous lord: am.... am i being replaced ;A;

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Would you consider writing Lee jerking off in his office and being caught by the female co-worker he was thinking about assists him?

oh sweet lord in heaven above— YES 1000 TIMES YES

NSFW Lee Russell x Reader

CW: sexual stuff at work, handjob,

~~~

“She’s wearing that dress I like,” he thought as you caught his eye in the hallway. Unable to deny the feeling of his cock jumping in his pants at the sight of you.

You and Lee had been flirting back and forth for a while now. Complimenting each other, jokingly calling each other names, talking about how sexy the other looked and how “if you don’t quit that I’ll fuck you right here.” Never blossoming further than that.

Lee thought about you more often than not. When he was home alone and got the urge, you were the first thing that came to mind. Riding him, bent over his couch, legs over his shoulders. He had imagined it all. You ate up every inch of his imagination. He adored you.

Lee headed into his office, shutting the door and lowering the blinds. He had a mission in mind, carelessly sitting behind his desk. Fingers teasing his shaft getting himself riled up. He gritted his teeth, trying his hardest to focus on something else.

Lee leaned back in his chair, his hands painstakingly close to his rising member, squinting his eyes shut. He tried to think about work but all he could think about was you. How beautiful you looked in that dress that was his favorite color. How it perfectly fitted your chest highlighting your breasts. How you had smiled at him in the hallway. How his name dropped off your tongue with a certain tone that got him going crazy.

He stroked himself through his clothes. Eyebrows furrowing as his jaw fell open. He unzipped his slacks, pulling his hard throbbing cock from its confides. He massaged himself perfectly, fingers wrapped around himself. Your name a soft moan on his lips.

“Hey, Mr. Russell—“ you opened the door staring down at the papers in your hands. Your eyes darted up to see Lee completely leaned backwards with his cock in hand. He was stroking himself, rutting when he heard you come in. Wide hazel eyes started at you, shock written on his face. Unable to stop himself from his previous activity. The person he had been thinking about on full display right in front of him.

You turned your back to him, hiding in front of the now closed door. “I am so sorry— I didn’t know!” You stammered, daring to look over your shoulder at him. Cheeks burning with embarrassment and your insides stirring with arousal. Your mouth watered slightly at the sight of his erection held between his thick fingers.

There was a heavy silence washing over the room. Tension so thick in the air you could cut it. You peaked over your shoulder watching as he continued playing with himself.

“Either stay or go, sweetheart. I’m gonna finish either way,” Lee choked out, staring at your ass and how your dress hugged it.

Your mind wandered to a naughty place knowing that he was stroking himself. You locked the door in front of you, turning back around to look at him. A devious smirk crept on Lee’s face, biting his lip when your eyes met his. You shyly smiled seeing him. Walking over to join him on the other side of his desk. Admiring his hard cock.

“You look awfully good today,” Lee complimented you, eyes focused on your chest. Lee took one of your hands, replacing his with it. You began stroking him. He moaned as you gripped his member, his head falling back against his chair. Bucking his hips into your grasp. “Was thinking about you the whole time,” Lee admitted breathlessly.

You felt a lump forming in your throat. You could not believe it was actually happening. The months of flirting and sex talk finally morphing into something else. Only because you had caught him at the right time.

“Thinking about me?” You tease rubbing your thumb over the head of his cock. You smirked at him, his hazel eyes meeting yours.

“You’re all I ever think about, sweetheart… saw you in that dress today and couldn’t help myself,” Lee choked out. You leaned down to be nose to nose with him. Your lips planting themselves all around his lips. Lee’s hand gripped the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he forced your lips to his. Panting as his tongue explored your mouth. “Tastes so good,” he purred. His other hand gripped your breast, pinching at your nipples. A soft moan fell from you.

“I never thought you’d be the type to actually jack off at work,” you huffed in between kisses. Lee grinned, “Never thought you’d be the type to wrap your hand around my cock at work.” You both chuckled, lips falling back together. Lips trailing down his jawline, nipping at his neck.

You could feel his cock twitching in your hand. The tip leaking more than it has before. Lee squinted his eyes shut, moaning, “God, don’t stop. Fuck- Y/N.” You sped up your hand, twisting to stimulate every inch of him. He finished all over your hand, shooting up slightly as you continued to stroke him. He was a heavy breathing mess, smiling as he pulled you to his lips.

“You’re so pretty,” he praised, kisses being placed all over your face and neck. You smiled brightly at him. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, cleaning your hand off for you. Tucking himself back into his pants with a smile. You both admired each other silently.

“You come home with me tonight and I’ll thank you properly for this, pretty thing,” Lee cooed, his hand caressing your face.

~

[End]

[cobragardens]

Another Post About Crowley's Terrible Handwriting

Actually his handwriting here isn't terrible, it's just, like Anathema's spelling, 300 years too late.

So first, I posit that we can be reasonably confident this is Crowley's handwriting because he is very likely the only celestial being besides Aziraphale who can spell devourer correctly.

Crowley has taken more care than usual with his penmanship today because this is a Fancy Presentation, and there are some delightful things to note about it:

--The beautiful serifs on each letter and variation in width of the strokes (the lowercase r's especially)

--Enthusiastic but intermittent capitalization of nouns

--The L that ends "Hail" is a small capital like the ones used in the Bible to spell LORD; the l in Worlds is lower-case

--The lozenge shape of the letter o

--Both s-es are oversized and dip below the writing line

--The kerning is terrible, the script wanders off the writing line at several points, and the location of the writing line is not imagined consistently

I am not an expert in the history of handwriting, but every single point of this suggests to me that Crowley learned to write in English in the late 16th or early 17th century, between say 1570 and 1620, and he learned to do it by copying printed material, not somebody else's handwriting. And it looks like late 16th-century writing. Or rather, like somebody learned to write by copying late 16th-century print and hasn't practiced enough for his style to change significantly in the last 400-500 years.

This means Crowley would have learned using a quill pen, poor devil, and if that's true no wonder he doesn't do it more often. (I wonder if this is why he now owns a pen that looks like it can break the sound barrier; if the Bentley is a permanent replacement for the loathsome, buttocks-abusing horse, maybe he keeps the expensive pen as self-reassurance that he'll never have to write with a quill again.) Quill pens would explain the lozenge-shaped o's: quills can only make a downstroke, so writers who used them shape o's as lozenges made of four downstrokes. Someone who learned writing with a quill would shape his o's like a calligrapher.

16th/early 17th century is the earliest I think Crowley would have learned to write in English because before that there was no block print; there was no print at all, only handwritten scripts of varying legibility, none of which look remotely like Crowley's handwriting does.

Here's what print looked like in Germany in 1471 (printing does not arrive in England for another 5 years after this):

The printing press showed up in England in 1476. Between 1500 and 1600, England got its shit sorted out wrt fonts and typesetting and started turning out what we would recognize today as readable material.

Here's what English printing looked like in 1623, c. 150 years after the German one above:

Not bad, right? I've received Xerox copies less legible than this in classes I paid for. I think it is likely based on his handwriting that Crowley learned to write from printed material a decade or two older than this. The adornments Crowley puts on his letters are serifs, not ligatures: these are not letters that were ever meant to join up in cursive, but letters that were copied from typeset.

From the 16th through the mid-19th century, variations in how a handwriter capitalized letters were very common, and two of these variations show up in Crowley's writing as well.

First, English inherited from German the capitalization of all its nouns. You can see it in Titus Andronicus, above (1623). Due to variations in education and taste, this quickly shifted to capitalization of whichever nouns the writer (or publisher, or printer) felt were important to capitalize, as you can see in Paradise Lost from 1688, below. Hail the Great Beast, devourer of Worlds.

Second, It was also very common during this time to capitalize terminal letters of words, either as a sign to the reader that previous letters had been omitted or because writers using quill pens wanted to be sure readers knew what letter they were looking at through the smudges and weird spacing and general wretchedness of the reading experience imposed by quill writing. I think this latter reason may be why Crowley writes "HaiL" when his other letter L, in "Worlds," is both lowercase and carefully printed with a pretty serif.

Handwriters in English between 1500 and 1800 also had a major hard-on for abusing the letter s, which was shaped like a lowercase f (to contemporary eyes) or a loose S, either of which drop below the writing line. Here's an example in print from 1688:

Use of the long S in print fell out of favor and disappeared abruptly in the UK after 1800.

Crowley's S-es could be a holdover from this: they both drop below the writing line, and they're both oversized.

What I think we can say for sure is that he's not very good at writing s-es, so they always turn out bigger than he intends. The S in "Beast" is noticeably different at the left curve than the S in "Worlds," which I would expect for someone who hasn't written thousands of s-es yet, and the S in "Worlds" looks very much like someone has faithfully rendered a shape they have seen rather than written a letter. Since he can write a letter r elegantly but can't do a curved s, it suggests to me that he hasn't had as much practice doing the curved s yet as he has the other letters, which fits with someone used to writing a long s 75% of the time.

Even the kerning speaks to me of someone who learned to write with a quill: leaving (comparatively) large spaces between letters gives the ink somewhere to drip and smudge without rendering the letter illegible.

There's one other reason I think Crowley probably learned to write in English in the 16th century: He's lazy, and he probably wouldn't have needed to know before then.

The movable-type press arrived in England in 1476. The Protestant Reformation kicked off in England c. 60 years later in 1534 when Henry VIII declared himself head of the English Church. Prior to the surge in literacy among the wealthy and merchant classes in the 16th century, thanks to this intersection of printing press and Protestants (who believe it's important that each person read the Bible for themselves), almost no one knew how to read, including most of the gentry and nobility, and still fewer knew how to write. If you had a message, you sent a guy or you showed up yourself. If you had something you wanted recorded, you summoned a scribe. If you needed to know something, you found somebody who knew and you asked them.

By the time of Queen Elizabeth's accession in 1558, 82 years after William Caxton began operating England's first movable-type printing press, a fully literate royal court were passing each other and their spies and their assassins gossipy notes like everybody was a 12yo in math class. Elizabeth wrote letters and poems. Among the gentry gentlewomen replaced monks as the medical caregivers for their communities (bc Henry shut down all the monasteries), and they wrote and shared and copied multi-generational "receipt books" and herbals of medical and cosmetic treatments. In the space of a single generation, literacy--the ability to write, not just to read--became a prerequisite for functioning in the upper echelons of society.

So if he didn't already know by then, Crowley would have needed to learn to write in English in the mid-16th century. And he would have had to learn it with a quill. (Wearing black probably came in handy for all the ink he spilled or dripped on himself.)

Last to consider is the W in "Worlds," which has no serifs and is not written with any particular attempt at straightness or symmetry. To me this suggests that Crowley learned to write w's from a modern reference, not his original reference. And this makes perfect sense: w was very much in use in the 16th century in English, but nobody agreed on how to write or print it, so there were crossed v's, two capital U's, and this weird gothic lowercase n with extra tentacles. W, Crowley would have learned, always needs to be checked up on before you commit.

Crowley's spelling here is modern, which is frankly a huge achievement for someone who was present for the formation and transformation of all 3 English languages. The contemporary Modern English we use today was a going concern for over 2 centuries before anyone wrote an English dictionary, and it was three centuries before dictionaries became authorities on how to spell correctly and people started giving a shit about that. (Before that as long as people could read the word and understand what you meant by it in context, you'd spelt it correctly.)

Taken together, the W and the modern spelling suggest that although Crowley almost never writes by hand, he reads regularly. This matches with two Words of God I've seen from Neil Gaiman (which I am too lazy to find and link) in which he mentions that Crowley likes to read but won't admit to doing so or to liking books.

Aziraphale should get him a book about ducks for Valentine's Day.

[n4tural1]

AI: my thoughts

Imagine a world where your dream job is certain to be rendered obsolete by a machine, now open your eyes and see the same image. I am an artist in our current age. My line of work is likely to be replaced by two quick lines of writing into an AI. Will I have to pursue a line of work I harbour no passion for due to the certainty of my likeness being stolen? An unfortunate amount of people hear anyone talking about these issues and disregard them, thinking “Oh no! Another nihilistic luddite screaming about the end of the world”, but I’m here to show you why these seemingly nihilistic claims have actual basis. AI, while promising, poses a threat to all who desire to join the workforce. Whether it’s the plagiarism that takes place in training an AI, the doors it opens for tech giants and other multimillion dollar companies to replace all workers with machines or even the fact that it steals from artists just to replace them, AI is a bigger issue than anyone could’ve ever imagined.

The main ethical quandary with generative AI is the fashion in how it learns. Machine learning, for the uneducated, works by archiving provided media into its vast data banks, in which it then uses to generate a “new” piece of media by stitching together anything similar. This, in a vacuum, isn’t inherently bad, however, its possibilities are. Closed source AI’s currently on the market have been fed copious amounts of media from copyrighted and privately owned sources with neither permission nor financial compensation. I would bet that at least half of you in this room are thinking “oh that’s not good! These AI’s should be sued!”, but that’s the thing, they can’t be. It is currently impossible to prove any specific piece of work has been used to train a generative AI, and it is too impossible to state any piece of work produced by one is copyrighted, as it steals from so many different sources, the origins obscure each other. This isn’t just image generating AI’s either, chatGPT and Gemini are text based generative AI that have both been proven to not only regurgitate copyrighted work; such as Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, but completely make up fake historical events due to such! Most terrifyingly, voice replicating AIs such as Voice.AI and elevenlabs and deepfake AIs such Synthesia and TopApps not only pose a threat to the entire entertainment industry, but to the reliability and reputation of all digital footage. This potential replacement of all white collar work with no chance of enacting any legal repercussions leaves AI manufacturers and consumers to perpetrate this plagiarism and leaves little room for human-made work that genuinely contains soul.

“The rich get richer”. It’s a saying parodying the quote “You need money to make money”, which is quite relevant when talking about the ethical concerns behind AI. The media giants and other mega-corporations everyone gets mad at are only going to be fueled by the introduction of AI, the only reason they haven’t taken the leap is because of the public perception of AI and the writer’s strike that happened in protest of it! Casual use of AI, for personal use or purely for a joke between friends is an endorsement of AI use in general, and therefore the use of copyrighted imagery and replacement of workers by these corporations. Until some actual policies regarding the use of artificial intelligence in corporate context come into play, any use of AI, wholesome or not, endorses the self-destructive abstraction of one’s own job. I had a similar conversation with a previous friend, and here is an argument they had to say: “all productivity improvements take some jobs but if there were no productivity improvements ever there would be the same amount of jobs but everyone would be poor”. This is a poor argument due to the fact that every time a new innovation such as this has threatened jobs, there have always been union labour laws put in place to prevent such issues. However, with the speed at which AI is being developed, legislation has been struggling to keep up with the necessary interventions due to its lack of priority in all political contexts.

As previously stated, I am an artist, a voice actor specifically. My job is being actively replaced by AI, by ripping the voices out of people's throats. Disregarding the security issues especially in politics for now, any person with enough footage of someone and a powerful enough AI model can steal someone’s voice just to use it for free. It is evident that this poses a COLOSSAL threat to the entertainment industry. And not just voices! Any artist can be completely replaced by their own artwork! This is disgusting. Semi-personal anecdote here, but I heard a story, from a fellow voice actor, where they did an over-the-phone audition. I heard a story where this “over-the-phone audition” was an elaborate scam used to train an AI off of their voice, rendering them completely obsolete because they were betrayed by their own voice. This isn’t just an exaggerated story thought up for some irrelevant emphasis, this is a genuine threat that exists right now. Artists might have to stop sharing their passions in fear that by sharing them, the AI conglomerates will devour their work and spit it back out, soulless and deformed, but cheap and fast. What makes art compelling? What is art if not created by an artist? If art reflects a person's life and experience, what is “art” created by a machine? It’s nothing, it’s absolutely nothing.

So what is there to do about it? I’ll tell you, protest! Go on strike! That’s right! How else are we going to grab our government's attention? The most famous protest in history was the 1963 March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, and guess what, it was famous not only because it was successful, but because this was when Martin Luther King Jr. made his famous speech. Quoted directly from an article from resilience.org published in 2024 “Suppose a movement to ban AI were to succeed. In that case, it might break our collective fever dream of neoliberal capitalism so that people and their governments finally recognize the need to set limits.” Make some noise! Get mad! Are you really going to let these machines steal your job? Your voice? What makes you human? No. We, the people, will overcome this threat, and we will take down this mechanical menace. So go out there, express your opinions, use your voice, use the rights you are entitled to as a human being to speak out against the use of AI. And remember, “silence in the face of injustice is equal to complicity”.

[sacredcynic]

Goals For 2023

I am still surprised every time I walk past a calendar and see that it is 2023.  I am not surprised because 2022 went so quickly, but that 2015, 2018, and basically every year since 2000 has sped past.  Here, at the start of another new year, it is good to take stock of the year that is completed and make some goals for 2023.  As I look back at 2022 a few highlights spring to mind.

 The year started with another book being published.  I am not claiming that this book is ground-breaking in any way – it is not. I am thankful to have this opportunity to write a few thoughts down, and hopefully help someone else along the way.

  I took a trip out to the desert to play some golf with Adam.  Until this trip I had never played out in the desert.  It was certainly different and beautiful in its own way. I also hit my shot of the year during my first round in the desert.  The problem is that I did not see it go in the hole because I was so disgusted with my previous two shots that I turned away and did not watch it.  Sometimes, surprising things happen when we least expect it and we miss it.  There is a lesson in there somewhere.

    I also took a few beautiful walks in Scotland with Michelle. The most beautiful was at a place called the Quirang on the Isle of Skye. As we look back at life, there are a few moments that we remember. That walk will be one of those moments.

  I hugged 4 grand-children this year. This year I will be able to hug 6 grand-children.  I think this is the best thing I get to do. I am thankful that I have the world’s best-looking, smartest grand-children. I am also convinced that this designation does not impact in any way other grand-children being the smartest and best-looking as well.

  I am thankful for the everyday blessings that are so impactful. There are moments in the classroom I get to experience with students, and wonderful friends with whom I get to experience life. Their friendship makes a difference and leaves me the better for it.

  In 2023 I want to be more aware of the moment I am in and the people around me. I am convinced we miss so many blessings because we are always thinking about what is next instead of what is happening now.

   My goal is to let go of petty grievances instead of hanging on to them. I also promise to make an important exception to this goal. I will never get used to the Guardians. My team will always be the Indians.

    There is a spoken blessing in Judaism that says, “next year in Jerusalem.” This is next year. I look forward to walking the streets of Jerusalem and to see the same places and walk the same pathways that Jesus did.  I look forward to being there with many friends and experiencing Israel with a great group of people.

   I know I have said this for years but this will be the year for my first hole-in-one. I was so close a few times this year, and the good Lord will hopefully take the lid off the hole for me this year.  

    There will not be much that is “new” this year. I will embark on my 20th year as pastor in Mundelein, and my 20th year of teaching at ONU. How blessed am I? In a time that celebrates the constant chasing of the new, the regular is so under-appreciated. I cannot imagine my life without these daily privileges, and the wonderful people that bless my life.

  I am looking forward to some other regular blessings this year, and I promise to appreciate them. There will be walks in the woods, Lake Michigan sunsets, rounds of golf with friends and family, and daily walks with Michelle.  Trips are nice, but what we do every day is what defines us, and makes life valuable.

  I am thankful for Jesus Christ, who continues to walk with me after all these years. I look forward to another year of Him continuing to work on my rough edges, and replacing the dead areas that continue to cling to me, and replacing these with new life. In 2022 there was still too much of me, too much that is dead, and too much rush.  I look forward to a year where I am less, and a little more life.

[soulcleft]

To be a part of the schemes of his Lordship to have them all engage with one another [ and to drag the Noblesse out of his solitude ] now leading up to a 'festivity' that would cause an abundance of headaches, sole for the fact that he was quite so eager in riling up otherwise calm encounters. Alas, mayhaps, Ragar could use this all for a 'payback' - had his teaching not shown that the Princess was quite a natural? So he approaches, bowing slightly. "My Lady, may I have this dance?"

@drouklazher

A rarity, that is, the relaxed form of the heir lurking among the shadows. The spotlight would one day shine on her, having to deal with the attention and scrutiny of all upon her form. For the moment though, she will relish in the rare solitude, observing the festivities with an amused ( albeit veiled ) gaze. The Lord is the person currently attracting the attention of all those in attendance. Whether it be facilitating conversations ( ah, poor Krasis, taking the Lord’s teasing words seriously once more ) to playing various games taken from the human world to test ( Edian seems to be dead set on obliterating all the apples on Urokai’s head ).

Imagine, the most powerful beings in the world, being made to indulge in strange activities that would otherwise lower their noble dignity. Then again, with their talents, they could make a simple game look quite enviable, no? Head tilted to the side, Raskreia’s gaze continues to change from person to person. Having gotten rid of that shyness long ago, what prevents her from joining in the activities is a simple matter of observation. 

However, it would not be long til the Lord would do his best to bring his daughter out from the shadows. A mischievous twinkle, obvious schemes hidden by good will, a dancing segment of this ‘party’ would be starting. Though not directly called out by the Lord, the princess is aware of the hidden message detailed in the Lord’s announcement.

Ragar’s approach is not too surprising; of course the Lord would wish to see the outcome of the lessons imparted upon his daughter, with due respect from the Kertia family leader. It is not hard to allow a thin smile to tilt upon her lips. Despite the stern demeanor many associated with Ragar Kertia, it is interesting to think about his approach in a different way. Important note: as soon as the elder bowed, she could see the Lord’s countenance change.

❝ You may. ❞ Allowing a breath of a laugh to slip past, she fits her hand into his and easily falls into a suitable posture with the family leader. The atmosphere would change, as all eyes curiously turn towards the future Lord that left the sidelines to take the center of attention with Kertia’s leader. Only confidence would follow, faith completely placed in her mentor; in the background though, the dumbfounded expression upon the Lord’s face is most rewarding from this scenario.

[ladyviserra]

Red Wedding | Robb Stark

Pairing: Robb Stark x Female!Reader

Summary: Robb Stark attends his uncle's wedding, unknowingly spending his last living moments, surrounded by enemies with fake smiles and evil intentions.

Warnings: death, murder, mentions of blood, Red wedding by itself, throat slitting...

A/n: Wanted to write something tragic and had this on my mind so here you go.

The two of you were yourselves newly married. Robb was a great husband. Something many ladies could only dream of. A gentle and kind soul. He was raised well by Lord and Lady Stark. You hoped one day you could be the same parent as his parents were.

Your house is a smaller Northern house. Your cousin lost his life fighting for Robb, the same almost happened to your brother and father. It made you angry at the war and the Young Wolf for letting so many lives die.

But it all changed when you met. He wasn't selfish as you imagined, just a polite boy who didn't want this war either. You fell in love, finding comfort in one another. It was nice to have someone to make you feel better in such a cruel time.

Despite being promised to a Frey girl, he married you. Of course, you rejected him at first, he made a promise which shouldn't be broken. It wouldn't be honourable of him. But still, you spoke your vows, promising to love each other till the end of your days.

" Not all of my promises were kept, but the ones I promised you will be. I swear it. " He whispered to you, kissing your neck, keeping you warm.

You couldn't know if he would keep it, we never know such things. You could only hope his words matched his actions.

Walder Frey proposed to another marriage, this time with his daughter and Edmure Tully, Robb's uncle. You didn't trust the old man, hearing a lot of stories about the Freys being disloyal and not so quick to forgive.

Robb however succeeded to stop your worry. He was a good man, but a naive and too forgiving one.

On the day of the wedding, you felt sick. You throw up a few times. Lady Catelyn herself asked you to not attend the wedding, so you wouldn't feel even worse. You gladly agreed to stay in your tent, not wanting to meet Walder Frey again. He was a creepy old man who commented on your appearance and laughed your and Robb's marriage off.

It made you even sicker to think all of his wives had to live with him. Tough luck. It made Robb an even better man in your eyes, joking he might become the same once when he is older.

" Rest. " He kissed your lightly hot forehead.

" When I am back, I will make sure to not leave your side. " Your husband left with his mother to attend the wedding.

It would take long you thought. You had a wedding of your own and remembered very clearly how long the night was. How long does it take for you and Robb to be alone? People were dancing and singing and laughing, a joyful time.

Imagining the same for this wedding, you hoped Robb would come back early, as it took too long for you. Hearing the music playing loudly, thinking of his happy face.

You just wanted your husband in your arms. To be able to hug him and kiss him. Not catching any sleep without him.

The music quieted down, boring you with silence. You called for Grey Wind, finding it strange to not see him anywhere close to you.

Maybe he is with Robb. But they wouldn't put a direwolf in the middle of such an event. It's a big animal after all.

A commotion replaces the previous silence. Sounds of running and rushing, with slow groans. You stood from your bed, grabbing a cloak, pulling it over yourself.

Carefully walking to the outside, you are stopped by one of the knights.

" M'Lady, you have to come with me. " He takes your hand pulling at it.

" What is the meaning of this? What's happening? " Confusion tapes your face. The knight was almost shaking, nervousness was seen in his movements.

" The Freys betrayed us. They killed so many already...We have to get you out of here. "

" What about Robb? Is he safe? " You instantly panicked. Thinking of the worst.

" Please, my Lady we have to go. " He urged you, making sure no one saw him.

" I am not going anywhere until you tell me where is my husband. " You coughed out, looking seriously at him.

" I am afraid, his Grace is...was killed. " By your expression, he knew he shouldn't have told you. Your mouth felt dry, your chest was hurting, your eyes watering.

" What? " You asked still in disbelief.

" He is dead. " Your hands covered your face, starting to sobbed unstoppably. Knees unable to stay strong anymore, like they cracked as you fell to the floor that never felt colder.

" We have to go. They will get to us. " You wanted to tell him to run for his own life because you didn't have it in you. The man looked back and forth noticing some sons of Walder Frey turning to your tent.

" My Lady they will kill us too. " Scared face of his pleaded to you, but without any response. The only sound coming from you were of sobbing. Hearing the man choked you looked up at him witnessing a gruesome scene.

The man's throat was slit from behind, opening a big wound on his neck, making his body leap and fall to the ground. Making eye contact with the killer, seeing one of many Walder Frey's great-grandsons holding a knife in his hand, his father tapping his back, pointing a finger at you to kill next.

In any other situation, you would have run or fought back. Where though? To who? For who? The one you loved was dead, there is nobody for you.

The killer was approaching you while you didn't move from the spot you fell to.

" Is that her? " He asked, waiting for someone to answer him.

" Who else? It's their tent. " Another Frey spoke. The killer smirked at you before stabbing the knife into your chest. Pain overcame your body, but not as hard as hearing of your husband's death.

You looked one more time at him as he pulled a knife through you, stab after stab. The pain was the only thing you could feel. With closed eyes, you drifted away.

If he married a Frey girl he would be still alive. If you were supposed to die, you were supposed to die together. You were supposed to live. The Gods were cruel when they let this bloody wedding take many lives that had a lot before their end.

In the end, darkness consumes you, feeling numb no movement being made, no more hearing, seeing...

The pain disappeared just like yours and every life taken during the event later known as The Red Wedding.

[ladycatofwinterfell]

About the praise thing. I have a head canon.

The first time Cat called Ned “handsome” he was confused and started blushing and stammering because no one ever thinks he’s handsome. Cat doesn’t understand why people think that because she thinks he’s very cute even though he’s not extremely hot like Brandon. So she likes to randomly call him handsome to get that reaction out of him.

I just love the thought of Catelyn being absolutely delighted by Ned’s reactions when she compliments him. Sooooo have a super short drabble

Catelyn looked up as Ned entered her chamber. She had not seen him since the previous night, and was quite surprised about his spontaneous visit. He rarely came to her during the days unless they had business they needed to conduct together.

“Is there anything I can do for you, my lord?” she asked.

She once more turned her eyes down to the dress in her hands. It was not quite finished, but she imagined she would be happy with the result. Sansa would be so pretty in it. There was nothing Catelyn liked more than making her daughter clothes. Robb had never been interested in it, but Sansa was always so sweet.

“I was told you had Sansa with you” he answered. “I wanted to see her.”

“It was time for her to rest, so she’s in the nursery.”

“Alright.”

She expected him to leave after that. Not that she wished for him to leave, though he had no reason to stay. She enjoyed his company, she liked when he was with her. The more she grew to know him the more she wanted to be around him, he was a good man. And a good husband.

“What are you doing, my lady?” he asked, coming further into the room.

Catelyn could not help the smile that graced her face at his question. She held up the little dress for him to see.

“I am making a dress for Sansa” she told him.

“It’s very pretty, I’m sure she will be happy with it.”

“She likes pretty things, our daughter.”

“Well, she takes after her mother in beauty.”

“She also has a handsome father.”

Catelyn had lowered the dress and picked up her needle again, continuing to sew. It took her a few moments to notice her husband had gone quiet.

He had turned his face downwards, and avoided her gaze when she attempted to look him in the eye.

A knot tied in her stomach and she felt herself go cold. Why wouldn’t he look at her? Had she somehow offended him? What had she even said? She couldn’t remember it. She had not put much thought behind it. And oh how she regretted that.

“My lord, do forgive me” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“No, my lady– I… I don’t know. There’s nothing to forgive.”

He looked up at her for a very short moment and she caught notion of that his cheeks had flushed red under his beard.

“Clearly I have somehow offended you” she pointed out.

She wished to know what it was she had said so that she would not repeat it.

“You have not offended me, Catelyn” he sighed, and his gaze flickered all over the room.

“Then what did I do?”

“You called me handsome.”

His voice was almost as low as a whisper, as if he was ashamed of saying it.

“You are handsome” she found herself responding.

She tried to keep the smile off her face, it felt inappropriate. Once she realised she was failing she had to raise a hand to cover her mouth.

So that was what had flustered him so. The cold feeling had been replaced by a flutter in her heart she only associated with her youth, when a handsome boy would kiss her hand and tell her she was beautiful. No handsome boy had kissed her hand, she had just told her husband he was handsome. And he was so thrown off by it that he could barely get out words.

It was with wonder she discovered just how much she liked that. He was so sweet.

“You need not try to appease me with flattery, my lady, that is unnecessary” he said.

“I’m not saying that to appease you, I’m saying that because I believe you are handsome.”

She had not thought so first time she laid eyes on him, but it had grown on her. She wondered how she had not seen it before when it was so obvious then. Perhaps not handsome in the traditional way, but in his own way. And she certainly liked that way. She would have to tell him much more often.

Slowly Catelyn put aside what she had in her hands and pushed herself up from the chair she had been sitting in. As she approached him he looked up at her somewhat sheepishly.

“You are handsome, Eddard Stark” she whispered, laying her arms around him.

She did not know where she had found the confidence and courage to do that, but there was something with it all that made her unable to keep herself away from him. She wanted more of that wonderful feeling.

“You may not see it yourself, but I see it” she continued, delighted by the smile that was tugging at the corners of his lips.

She would be able to stay alive for hundreds of years purely on that feeling. No food was necessary, no drink was necessary, she never had to pray again. Seeing him blush as she called him handsome was all she needed. Where had that come from? Since when did she gain such happiness from it?

“You are much too kind” he said, still avoiding her gaze.

“No, it is only what you deserve.”

She would have to do that much more often.

[cafeinthemoon]

Portrait of a Monk - Chapter IX

Chapter 9/?

Wordcount 3,9k

Title The Girls

Fandom Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing Geto Suguru X reader

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warning (s): Mentions of emotional issues and seasonal depression

Tagging @darling-imobsessed @wasurenagusaa

(if you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just send an ask or a message, or leave a comment on this chapter 😉)

A.N.: Despite being simple if compared to the previous ones, I found this chapter hard to write (Idk why), but I tried to make the girls' introduction as good as possible. When I had the idea of giving reader two female friends, my first thought was that they should be Nanako and Mimiko, however I needed her friends to be adult just like her, and that was when I decided to create new characters. To me, they remind me of Uzui's wives from Kimetsu no Yaiba and to a certain point I wrote them having these girls in mind, but you can imagine them whatever the way you like.

Hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you for reading this story despite the slow updates 🥺

Though your immediate response to your master’s proposal indicated a favorable disposition, you asked him for one day to think of it, after which you would come to him with a definitive, well based answer.

- It is true that saying yes to you right now wold bring me immeasurable joy, my Lord – you justified your request – But at the same time I cannot ignore what doing it would mean. As far as I know, I was never married before. Everything wold be new to me, and also a great responsibility. It cannot be taken lightly, no matter how much love is involved.

At first, Geto looked at you a bit perplexed, but this feeling was soon replaced with that sort of pride he used to display whenever he wanted to his approval. With a delicate gesture of his hands, he surrounded your face and gave you a long kiss on your forehead.

- My y/n-chan, so calm, balanced in your deliberations – he complimented – Sometimes I wish I was as mature as you.

You laughed, and he gave you more kisses on your temples and cheeks.

- Do not mock me like this, sweetie – he asked between one kiss and another – I am serious. And because of this, I am going to concede you this day you ask for.

You murmured a sweet “thank you, my Lord”, but weren’t dismissed yet. Your master had a word or two for you, and by the solemnity in his trait it was better to pay them all the possible attention.

- Speaking of seriousness, during this day, I’d also like you to consider something else – he moved one hand away from your face, but kept the other to trace his finger through your chin – Something that might affect our common life even more than one’s inexperience in these matters.

Your laughter was replaced by a preoccupied focus.

- What are you talking about, Geto-sama? What could be so serious?

- I am talking about the circumstances under which we will be living in the next months, during the rest of Autumn and Winter – he explained – It has direct connections to the fact that I proposed to you now, instead of leaving it to the future.

You were still confused.

- And what must we expect in the next months?

Instead of questioning if your masters at your old home haven’t told you anything about it, Geto started describing the expected events in the most direct manner:

- During this time of the year, people’s emotions are shaken due to the low temperatures and less exposition to natural light. As a result, a prolonged, melancholic mood dominates the residential and public spaces, favoring the birth of an impressive number of cursed spirits, from the lowest leveled to the most dangerous ones. It has been a problem for which we still do not have a definitive solution, unfortunately. But we do our best to treat it. Of course, the common people, who are not conscious of the process in which cursed energy is produced, are mostly oblivious to this, but this is the exact reason why they experience the effects of it in a way that we with knowledge would never do.

You thought of this for a moment. What you’ve heard and read about seasonal depression and related subjects was more worrying than you first supposed, then.

- In other words, they don’t know why they are in distress – you commented – And this makes things worse for them?

- You can put things this way – Geto agreed – And since our family is responsible for places where these issues are treated, many of the common people come to us, seeking for help – and putting his hands upon your shoulders – This is what I want you to understand, my dear: when these things start happening, everyone in our temples, specially this one where we live in, will be very busy. And you are included in this.

So, unlike in your old home, where you were concentrated in studying and training, here you would apply everything you’ve learned. You thought you were finally understanding where he intended to go with this conversation.

- Yes, that makes sense. But am I going to stay here all the time, or am I going to be sent outside the temple to work with you, my Lord?

- For now, I could say both, so that you have to be ready. But when Winter reaches its apex, our activities will be limited to our own house. This is another reason why I am bringing Nanae and Makoto to our house, you see: since you will be by my side for even longer periods, they must become able to take care of things while you are away. Their diligence and reliability must be equal to yours, and you must learn to trust them as sisters.

You smiled at that: listening to Geto-sama as he spoke about the girls always made your heart warm, even though you haven’t met them yet. The simple idea of having young, female company was enough to put you in a good mood; the perspective of having them with you in the next days was something to cheer up to.

And you told that to your master.

- You know, Geto-sama, I love to think that I’ll be making them my family – he still had his hand on your chin; you held it and brought to your cheek – Just as you made me yours…

- It is so good to see your happiness, my y/n-chan – was his response – I am eager to see it grow even more.

With one last, sweet kiss on your forehead, he let you go.

Now, you had many things to consider besides your own happiness, most of them directly connected to it to the point they could improved it or interfere in it. You didn’t know much about such role, but you were sure that being a wife – more than this, being Geto-sama’s wife – was a responsibility that only a few could successfully bear. You had reasons to be worried. Fortunately for you, you wouldn’t be alone for much longer in the house’s new routine, and your master promised to give you detailed instructions as those busy days approached.

***

The next great event after the proposal was, of course, the arrival of the new children, which kept each resident excited and occupied in their own functions: the preparations of new rooms, furniture, bed clothing, more ingredients for extra meals and all the practical side of things in order to give them the reception they deserved.

It wasn’t different with you, except that it was going to mark the end of a period with long work and almost no social activity and the beginning of what you could call a proper life with a family.

When Nanae and Makoto arrived at their new house, your master soon came to share the news with you. You were at the room next to yours, the one chosen to be occupied by them, organizing the last details: you asked to personally take care of everything concerning their necessities, a request that was easily accepted by Geto.

When he appeared at the door, his eyes passed over it and approved your work.

- You did an excellent job here, my dear – he commented – The girls will feel at will sooner than they expect, this I am sure.

- Thank you, my Lord – you replied after arranging some ornaments over a nightstand – It’s been a while since I dedicate myself this kind of work for an entire day. I’ve been missing it.

You never found out what he was going to say in response, for he remained quiet when a silhouette appeared and stood before by him, startling you both, and the cheerful face of a girl showed up beside the door, a healthy face surrounded by blond curls that would fall to the side as she kept her head inclined, with two vivid, green globes as eyes and some freckles over her nose, contrasting with her reddish, big lips, half opened, all of this followed by a pair of hands that held the wood frame as she observed the room’s interior in wonder.

These were her first words:

- All of this just for us?! Heavens, I’m so happy! – she suddenly turned to your master – You are always full of surprises, Geto-sama! Thank you so much…

Your first thought was that she was going to cry and hug him with all her strength. And indeed the girl’s disposition to do such thing was clear even to Geto, but she was interrupted right in time by a second person who pushed her away by her shoulders and bowed to him in an embarrassed apology. From your spot, you noticed the person was a girl with black hair, tied up by a hairpin not so different from the one you were always wearing even after gaining a new one in the proposal’s day.

- I am sorry for this inconvenience, my Lord – she was saying, ignoring the cries of protest from the first girl – It is true that we are both excited to finally be here, but there are better ways to show it, and my cousin knows that.

Geto giggled and told her to not think too much about it, then invited both girls to enter, making his way into the room right after them.

- Girls, let me introduce you to your new friend – he put a hand on each one’s shoulders – Y/n s/n, my fiancee, disciple and personal assistant. She has been with me for months now, and understands the house’s routine and rules as no other. She will guide you in your tasks, and you can trust her with everything you might need.

When the two girls looked at you for the first time, their eyes widened, excitement clear in each spot of their pretty faces.

- Y/n-chan, this is Makoto-san – Geto indicated the girl with dark hair; then, turning to the blond one – And this is Nanae-san.

The girls nodded and spoke at the same time:

- It is an honor to finally meet you, y/n-san!

You smiled at their manners, as excited as themselves.

- The honor is all mine, girls! – you nodded in response; then, indicating your surroundings – I was eager to meet you, so I did my best to prepare your room. I hope you can make yourselves comfortable here.

This time, their reactions were diverse: while Makoto showed her best manners replying that this would surely happen and that they would both do their best to keep things as organized as you made them now, Nanae went to the closest bed, on her right side, and threw herself upon it.

- Making ourselves comfortable? You don’t even need to ask, y/n-san!

Makoto, with her face as red as can be and her delicate, lilac eyes widened, was about to scold her cousin when she heard you laughing.

- Okay, Nanae-san, if you’re saying so!

You saw your master stepping back to the room’s entry, a satisfied smile on his lips. The girls turned to him when he spoke.

- I knew you were going to get along fast, my children! Seeing you together is indeed a wonderful scene – he crossed the door and waved from there – Now, if you excuse me, I need to take care of my own matters. I will see you later.

You three said goodbye to him with a nod.

The room’s door was then closed and you started an excited conversation that lasted for an entire hour, only interrupted by the boy who came to bring the girls’ things and another one who came to announce the next meal. You heard your new friends talking about the temples where they used to live before being brought to Geto’s house, the routine in them, their first encounter with him and their travel to their new home with a curiosity that would grow at each minute.

You soon found out their innate techniques were as interesting as you first supposed. Makoto was a master of shikigami in the form of insects and butterflies she would use to examine territories and find missing things, as well as to trace preys; they were also used to collect and share information. Nanae, on the other hand, used her cursed energy to move objects of any size, and sometimes to levitate herself, a very useful and unpredictable tool for direct combat. Both abilities were excellent, especially for assistants. It was just as you were told: their presence would be a comfort and a great help.

The girls, used to deal with older people since they came to live in their old temple (a situation not so different from your own), were clearly content for having the company of someone as young as themselves, able to talk to them on the same level of understanding and familiarity, even though you were introduced as their senpai. They were particularly interested in your story and how you became their master’s most trusted person.

You told them about how you were saved by a stranger on a stormy night, at one of his temples’ entry. You explained that, despite having known his name and respected it for a long time in your old home, your first encounter with him was by accident. After some talking, you found out that your savior and Geto-sama were the same person, and showed your gratitude in a proper way. Geto, in exchange for this, chose you to be his personal assistant, for the position was vacant since he sent his previous one away. You immediately accepted the invitation and moved to his house on the same day.

- And since we have been together for long periods everyday, it was only natural that love would find a place to grow – you giggled – I mean, I didn’t take too long to fall in love, but I wasn’t expecting that he would fall too, and so soon. The day he confessed to me was the happiest of my life, only being replaced by the one when he proposed to me.

Nanae commented that she has always been sure that her master had some romanticism in him, but hearing you tell a whole story where this trait played a main role was better than anything that she could suppose. Makoto, on the other hand, had a more practical view of the things.

- To me, it is not a surprise that your innate technique has caught his attention, y/n-san – she was saying as she took her clothes off a suitcase and organized them on the wardrobe’s drawers – Being able to alter or erase people’s memories is something unique, and Geto-sama appreciates things like this. Of course he would recognize your talents once he became familiar with them.

- Not only unique, but dangerous as well – you replied with hesitation.

Both girls stared at you in confusion.

- What do you mean, dangerous? – Makoto questioned.

- I found out, too late, that my technique works in myself – you revealed – It already caused me many problems, and I don’t want this list to get any longer. So now I take extra care to not use it by accident.

Nanae was sitting by your side on the bed, with her legs crossed upon it in the lotus position. She sighed at your last observations.

- That Geto-sama likes things that are unique and dangerous is just as unsurprising, if we’re being honest here – she shrugged – He’s an important person, so he needs to be surrounded by people who are able to do dangerous things to protect him.

You swallowed. You were going to take long a path until you got used to the girl’s honesty, you knew, but that was an interesting point, which you never realized until now, perhaps because you always supposed that your master was able to defend himself – his technique consisted in taking curses under his control, after all, and what could be more dangerous than this? But your own ability was more subtle, not fitting for direct conflicts. Well, sometimes the kind of protection one would need had nothing to do with fighting, right?

- Maybe you’re right, Nanae-san – you replied after a moment – Now that I think of this, his decision towards me make sense, especially with the coldest seasons approaching and our quantity of work about to increase.

Makoto seemed interested.

- Are you talking about the darkest seasons, y/n-san?

You confirmed and told them about the growth in the number of curses during that time of the year and how you were going to be occupied, according to what your master told you.

Nanae whistled by your side.

- Working on the treatment of common people who are cursed? Sounds stressful.

You looked at her waiting for an explanation, but it came from Makoto.

- The masters in our old temple used to deal with this too – she folded a dress that got messed inside the suitcase and put it on the drawer while she spoke – They always worked in teams that would alternate between working hours and rest. The apprentices could watch the process but they weren’t allowed to participate, and no one had permission to do overtime, no matter how many people in need would appear at our door.

- Because exorcising curses and dealing with the emotional charge resulting from them is a very tiring job, to say the least – Nanae continued, giving you the explanation you didn’t have the courage to ask for – It drains one’s energy like no other task. It’s usually a bit easier during Summer and Spring, but Autumn and Winter are… complicated.

You spent some seconds in silence, looking at nowhere, then folded your knees and passed your arms around them. Suddenly the conversation you had with Geto about the next months came back to you, this time leaving a strange sensation in your stomach.

- ...I see.

Your uneasiness didn’t go unnoticed by the girls. Nanae was no longer joking.

- What’s wrong, y/n-san?

You took a deep breath.

- Nothing. I was just thinking… – and before you started a monologue about your preoccupations, you shook the bad feelings and smiled at the girls – Since this is the first time I will have to deal with this, I was scared. But this fear diminished when I was informed of your arrival. I am so grateful for having you with me...

Nanae came closer to you and threw her arms around your shoulders; Makoto left her suitcase aside and came to hug you too.

- And we are grateful for coming – she replied.

- Very grateful – Nanae completed.

***

The evening came fast that time, or so you thought while you knelt before the wood table in the middle of the room, your hands occupied with the preparation of Geto’s favorite tea. It was always like this when you had too much work to do, and now that you had the addition of your new friends’ lovely company the process seemed even deeper: you saw the autumnal sun fading on the horizon and didn’t do half of the things you’ve planned. In the end you were tired, but content.

It was in this mood that you poured the hot water on the selected mixture of herbs, their relaxing smell spreading around and attracting your master to your side: he closed the porch’s door, leaving the reddish twilight and the paper charms swinging at the wind behind, then took quiet steps toward the table. He sat with you, his curious eyes catching each of your movements, the sound of his calm breath so close making your cheeks warm.

The first words heard in the room were his.

- My y/n-chan looks so happy that her feelings would reach me on the other side of the house – his hand approached to make a caress on your cheek – And that makes her even more beautiful.

There was a pair of cups near; you took the first one and poured the tea on it, then offered it to him. Geto took it in his hands with a murmured “thank you” and you turned to the table to serve yourself with the second cup.

- Everything is going well, my Lord – you observed the steam coming up from your cup and smiled – Nanae and Makoto are wonderful girls. They’re content in being here, and they’re so diligent that we organized all their things in this afternoon and already starting planning our tasks for the next days. Working with them is refreshing and relieving at the same time.

- Very good – he mumbled in approval.

For a moment, you just drank your tea in silence, your own breaths being the only sound between those walls, until he put his cup back on the table and invited you to get closer with a gesture of his hand. You obeyed and took the place between his crossed legs; he passed his arms around you while you laid your head on his shoulder, your half filled cup still warming your palms.

- You know, it is good to see you three keeping the atmosphere light in face of the things I’ve told you about – he commented, more to himself than to you – This will be more helpful than you can suppose.

- Yes, my Lord. I confessed my worries to them, and they shared this feeling with me – you looked up to him, not disguising the anxiety in your tone – But I have yet another thing to be worried about.

- And what is it? – he stared back at you.

- Us – you sighed – How the circumstances will affect us. I can’t help the fear, despite my trust in ourselves. If there’s one thing that can make me sad now, here it is.

Geto’s response was to give you a long, warm kiss on the top of your head, while his fingers entwined with your hair, massaging your scalp.

- If you cannot help it, just let it be, my dear – he whispered – Worry about what you have to worry, and feel what you have to feel. But know that when it ends, you can always come back and rest here, with me – and with a giggle – Whenever you get tired of flying, just say it, and I will grab your ankles for you.

You smiled, but said nothing to that. You didn’t need to. You just finished your tea and put the cup back on the table, alongside his.

- Speaking of us, I have some news for you – he spoke when you went back to his lap – Good ones, of course.

You turned to him with wide eyes.

- What news, Geto-sama?

Your reaction was clearly a diversion to him, who blinked at you before answering.

- Recently, I’ve been in contact with one of the masters from your old home, and he accepted the request I made, despite the little time he will have to prepare himself.

- Prepare himself? For what?

- To lead our wedding ceremony, my love – Geto replied with a laugh – We also have settled a date for it.

Your heart pounded inside your chest with such strength that you were sure he heard it too. An established date!

- Really? And when will it be?

- In three weeks – holding your chin, he gave you a quick, sweet kiss on your lips – Counting from today.

[chibinekochan]

How to become a Demon Ruler 101

After getting adopted by the Demon King * better known as Diavolos dad *, you get sent to the demon prince castle.

There you are supposed to get your proper education from your new adoptive brother and his butler.

  Gn. Reader insert

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

Being summoned to the Devildom out of nowhere is a massive shock to say it lightly.

Yet here I am standing in front of a huge throne in a massive room. An equally impressive man sitting on the throne.

  His sheer presence demands my full attention.

I can only swallow my saliva. I'm sure that my life is over.

The demon stares at me, my body naturally trembles.

  When he opens his mouth, I hold my breath in anticipation. "Mortal child, I have summoned you here in order to adopt you. Henceforth you shall be recognized as my heir and potential future ruler of this realm." His voice almost shakes the foundation of the room.

My mouth starts moving almost on its own. Before I realized it, words spilled from my mouth. "Wait a moment; I'm an adult. I already have a life in the human world and ruler of the underworld? Do I get no say in this?"

I instantly regret my big mouth. Feeling like his gaze burns a hole through me.

"I have already decided. I'm not concerned about your options. You will stay with my son and will be properly instructed by him. I wish to see results or else I will replace you with someone more capable." His words echo in the huge room.

  I know what this implies, I have to play along or I will be dead.

And so in a single moment my whole world is turned upside down.

  Without any further explanation I once more find myself in a completely new environment.

This also appears to be a castle or at least an enormous mansion, at least by judging the interior.

I stare in awe at the place, feeling overwhelmed by this whole ordeal.

  At this moment I notice a slightly concerned looking man staring at me. Normally I would find this rude, but he is very handsome, so I let it slide.

He gives me the brightest of smiles. Is it possible this day isn't all terrible?

  "Welcome to my castle. My name is Diavolo and according to my father we are now siblings. I know this must be a lot to take in, but I'm sure we will get along just fine." Diavolo seems to take this new development pretty easy.

I wonder if he is used to antics like these. Maybe his father pulls stunts like this all the time?

"Hello… To be completely honest I would rather just go back home but I assume that is not an option." I feel a bit wary of him, despite his seemingly welcoming attitude.

  Diavolo has an otherworldly feel to him that I can't quite pinpoint, but I'm certain that he is a demon.

  "My father can be quite hard headed at times. I know he means well, though. It's been my dream to make our realms come closer, for an extremely long time. I guess this is just how my father decided to help with that." Diavolo sounds nonchalant about this whole situation.

I'm unsure what I can even say to that logic. "Was it necessary to kidnap me?"

"I'm certain there must be better methods but it's too late for that now. Regardless, I'm pretty thrilled to have a little sibling now. So let's do our best to get along." Diavolo smiles at me, bright as the sun.

Somehow I get swept away by his beaming smile and friendly behavior. "Sure, let's do that."

  Diavolo seems extremely pleased by my answer, and his smile somehow gets even more beaming.

At this point I start wondering if he might be secretly an angel but I keep that to myself.

  "Barbatos will you show my sibling their room?" Diavolo speaks to someone behind me.

I turn my head and am surprised by a man right behind me. I had not noticed him at all. I'm unsure if I should be terrified or impressed.

"Of course, my lord. Please follow me, young liege." Barbatos turns to me with a courteous smile. It's easy to see that he is the butler of my new brother.

It's very hard to say no to this, so I simply give Diavolo a slight bow and follow after Barbatos.

  He escorts me deeper into the castle, it looks like a confusing maze to me.

I look in awe at the new scenery. I still can't comprehend that I will stay here.

  Then Barbatos stops in front of a door.

I practically run into him.

He opens the door and motions to me to follow him.

Carefully I step inside of the room, unsure what I should expect. The room is extremely luxurious. Even the curtains look more expensive than my entire previous house.

The bed is big enough for at least five people and there are two other doors in the room.

    "This is your room. You should be able to find whatever you require. You have your own private bathroom and dressing room. In addition you have a private study, small library and a room to meet with your guests." Barbatos explains everything very calmly.

I hope that I don't have a foolish expression on my face right now. My mind is completely vacant. "Is all of this really for me?" I look at Barbatos, still waiting for someone to wake me up from this dream.

"Yes indeed. You should rest a little until dinner time. I'm sure all of this is quite a lot for you to handle." Barbatos is smiling as usual but I feel like I can see a twinkle of kindness. Maybe I'm just imagining it.

"Alright, umm what kind of clothes should I wear for dinner?" I honestly feel lost and hope they don't expect me to wear some uncomfortable fancy clothes.

"You can keep wearing your current attire but I also supplied your dressing room with some essentials. I know the collection is still relatively lacking, but I was in a bit of a bind since we only heard about your arrival today. I'm sure you will find something that is to your liking." Barbatos seems slightly upset, as if he failed by only getting essentials. Honestly, I can't even start imagining what he finds essential.

“I'm sure that I will find something to wear.” I try to reassure him.

   Barbatos looks relieved. "I will let you rest now but please don't hesitate to call me if you find anything missing or have any questions."

I'm about to ask if he will hear me but then I remember that he is a demon and decide to just accept it.

Barbatos silently leaves the room.

    Unsure what to do, I stand in the room for a few moments.

Next I decide to look at my new clothes. I hope that Barbatos' work attire is a good sign for his general taste in clothes.

With trembling hands I open the door to the dressing room. It's massive and filled with clothes.

My eyes are wide open. I'm convinced that I forgot to breathe for about a minute.

The sheer amount of clothing is absolutely overwhelming.

Everything looks perfect, so perfect it's kinda scary.

     I just step backward and close the door. I'm definitely not prepared for any of these.

In the end I stay in the clothes that are on my body. Barbatos said this would be fine after all.

I look around a bit, but I'm kinda frightened to touch anything and just awkwardly sit down on the bed.

It's extremely soft and comfortable. I wasn't expecting it to be this nice.

I lay down and just enjoy the soft comfort of my new bed for a bit, well at least that's the plan.

    - I still haven't decided who the end goal here is. Well it's a ride for sure.

[tallyovie-writes]

Arsonists's Lullaby R.A.B.

SONGFIC

Summary: Regulus finds a soul like his in a person he would have never guessed

Author's note: unedited, after 3 exams, 1 am, please be kind I know it starts slow but there will be more parts

1.6k words

When I was a child, I heard voices

Some would sing and some would scream

You soon find you have few choices

I learned the voices died with me

At 5 years old, Regulus Arcturus Black learned that family did not always mean blood. He had yet to figure out the true meaning of the word, but he knew what he had was a dark echo of an utopist dream.

His childhood was dominated by a gray filter, muffling the sounds, numbing the emotions, stretching the minutes forever. On certain days, the lights grew darker, shadowing the world into almost black. Black like his name, black like the soul he will grow up to have. The ticking of the clocks were too loud, the walls too high, his mothers steps on the creaking stairs too firm in a world of doubt and uncertainty.

When I was a child, I'd sit for hours

Staring into open flame

Something in it had a power

Could barely tear my eyes away

Sometimes, for split seconds, burgundy took over the darkness. The lifelessness in the manor disappeared, and compensating for life's previous absence it channelled all of its heat into hate. Hate for an empty mother from Sirius, hate for a son who did not fit traditions from his mother.

Hate from Regulus, who possessed the survival instinct of laying low and keeping to himself but his brother did not. And Regulus resented him in these moments. For all the plates in million pieces, previously broken on the wall, for all the harsh words leaving their father's mouth, for all the clever little punishments their mother put them through. Them, because getting caught in the crossfire of a traditional Black "family" argument meant everyone's suffering.

It was a flame barely extinguishable. It meant the only display of emotions aside from the rare brotherly moments he shared with Sirius.

Emotions lead to addiction. And if anger is the only feeling fuelled, darkness starts to grow.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

That fire burned a self preservation so deep in him, that Regulus recognized he needed power in order to make it in this world. Power to stay strong, make it through between his ambitious peers and most importantly to guard himself. The blatant, headstrong bravery Sirius took upon arriving at Hogwarts made school holidays a hellish wartime at home.

Regulus learned not to engage. The moment the edges of his self-made cell threatened to break, he carefully tucked in his emotions once again. He didn't want to cut out feeling at all, he deemed that too dangerous for his liking. No. He just didn't let his emotions get the best of him. A man ruled by his feelings is a terrifying sight. He mentally injected himself with an anaesthetic in public, and behind four walls he let himself carefully examine them. It wasn't easy. The tangled web of emotional strings, numbed most of the time, screamed for air. Screamed for understanding, for letting go, for caring. But he cut those last remaining ties with love the moment Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor.

When I was 16, my senses fooled me

Thought gasoline was on my clothes

I knew that something would always rule me

I knew the scent was mine alone

At 16 years old Regulus Arcturus Black saw a way in the darkness. He didn't dare call it a glimmer of hope. Hope was a privilege only offered to the good and divine, to the pure and just. He was neither, he thought.

Perhaps he was right. For now. But fate has a way of changing the tides and replacing the figures on the chessboard.

He has long lost the map to his emotions. They were carefully tucked away in a forgotten pocket somewhere around his heart, but as one man, he couldn't untangle them alone. Not like he wanted to.

His salvation arrived in the face of a charismatic leader. He had answers to Regulus's questions that he long sought to find. Ever since he was a child he associated power with stability and control over one's life, and this stranger offered power on a silver plate. He couldn't have been worse. Of course in hindsight, everything seems more clear.

But as he was shrouded in darkness, he chose to become a part of the dark as well.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

One of the main problems in Regulus's logic was that he thought that being a Death Eater would solve all of his insecurities and instability. At first it seemed to work, building a new world by idealistic wishes and getting rid of the dangers life proposed helped setting his nerves right. But as the curls of the smoke threatened to suffocate him, his decision pressed hard on his shoulder.

He knew there was no out of this. The Dark Lord's silver tongue has lost its magic, he could detect the empty lies, the manipulation, the sinister force. He could detect it, because it takes one to know another, and he was a master in the arts of manipulation and lying. Why wouldn't he be? He spent all of his childhood perfecting the image of the pureblood son his family wanted him to be. And he did not fail. Keeping it up during Hogwarts has become a natural instinct, but also demolished his true self.

What was the true soul of Regulus Arcturus Black?

When I was a man I thought it ended

When I knew love's perfect ache

But my peace has always depended

On all the ashes in my wake

He thought he would never find it out. But then you came along and wrecked his carefully planted walls. At first he hated you for that.

You were obnoxious and the true image of what a pureblood offspring should be. What he should be.

He would have never thought that someone could be a better liar and manipulator than him. Regulus needed years of careful examination to see the cracks in your armour and the rare slips in character. At first, he was sure that his mind was imagining things that were not there. After years of reading his slytherin peers, your occasional un-slytherin-like behaviour peaked his curiosity.

One day he was sitting at the Slytherin table when an idea struck. You didn't sit far away, so you had to be pulled into the conversation too.

"Snape!" Regulus called to the oily haired seventh year. "Heard He recruited you. You finally pulled your head out of your ass?"

Of course he has seen the err of his decision by now, so Regulus asked him this for two reasons.

One: he had to keep up appearances.

Two: he wanted to see how you reacted.

He had been spending the last few weeks noticing your subtle icks regarding certain subjects. So far his theory seemed to prove true.

On the outside an appraising look sat on your face.

But Regulus learned to discover the signs. And he was once again right as he noticed the tip of your ring finger hardly pushed against your thumb nail, leaving a mark. Subtle, but still a tell tale sign of someone who is not fully on board with the subject.

One day he decided to corner you.

"I know the game you are playing" he didn't mean to sound so threatening, but it came out like that.

A snake doesn't crack under pressure, so you looked him in the eye and let a sly smile spread across your face.

"Please, do enlighten me. What game am I playing? Or is it better if I ask which game of mine you are referring to? I am a busy woman."

He let your comment fly.

"I noticed the tip of your ring finger is bruised. I would bandage it. The past few weeks you must have been careless and cut it. Wouldn't want any infection, would you?" he looked deep into your eyes, transferring the other meaning of his words.

You knew what he meant. Lately, you spotted the Black boy's eyes on you. In the Great Hall, during classes, those grey orbs never left you. You thought he harbored a silly little crush on you. Now you realized your mistake. The question however remained. What will he do with this information?

You are getting careless, if I noticed, someone might too. Someone you wouldn't want to notice. His eyes said.

Your House was not meant for easy friendships. The rising of The Dark Lord supported a lot of back stabbings for meaningless praises, so you had to be careful.

With a last nod he turned his back on you and walked away, leaving you with only frustration and more questions. Could the Slytherin Silver Boy share your views? Maybe when Hell freezes over.

Regulus knew, he should have said; I know the game you are playing, because I am playing it too.

All you have is your fire

And the place you need to reach

Don't you ever tame your demons

But always keep 'em on a leash

Fate sat on her chair and watched the two young snakes step on their shared path. Neither of them knew yet what this little encounter will set into motion.

But Fate knew and mourned the loss of another great story that has not even started, but was already told.

She sipped her wine and caressed the head of one of her demons.

[yandereclues]

Request: Hey! I saw that you take requests for Stranger Things and was wondering if you’d take requests for borderline-terato Mindflayer! Billy Hargrove?

Request by: @youre-gonna-stink-and-burn 😊

Note: I changed things up a little with the mind flare, just to fit the Yander print better. But I really hope you enjoy !! 💕 (also based on the pronouns in your bio I assumed you would want male pronouns, if not I can change them real quick.)

Pairing: Yandere! Flayed! Billy Hargrove x Male! Reader.

Warnings: Displays of obsessive behaviors, slight violence? And sexual themes.

(Credit to @fivemoonjunction for the cool gif 😋)

“Hey umm,” you spoke as stress-filled tears threatened to pull from your eyes, “have you seen Billy recently? He hasn’t been answering my calls and-“ your shaky words were cut off by Max’s reply.

“No,” she seemed uninterested. She went to close the door, but you managed to get a sentence out before It clicked closed; “Well, if you see him please call me.”

She opened the door again slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. The unintelligible emotion behind her words put you off slightly. She quickly slammed the door closed. You stared at the frosted glass, at about eye level on the door. A small, almost silent sigh escaped your lips as you tilted your head up. But as you looked up, you noticed a pair of curtains flowing outside of an open window. You recognized the window, the same one you had been ushered to crawl through on many nights. Memories flew around your mind at the thought.

You remembered the chilly autumn evening vividly. “C’mon baby, if you jump, I’ll pull you up,” it was like his voice called to you from the open window, beckoning you closer. You had put all your faith into Billy’s relentless weightlifting that night, hopping towards the window. You remembered just barely touching the window sill, as strong warm hands gripped your forearms.

Many things had happened. You remembered music, calloused hands, cigarette smoke, and piercing blue eyes encasing you throughout the night.

A chill filled your system. The last time you had seen those beautiful eyes was last Friday. When Billy had dragged you to the changing rooms of the pool after hours. He had pressed you against the cold stone wall, lips grazing over your neck. Running his hands down your body as he usually did. This time though, he hesitated. As if he was waiting for some sort of signal.

It took a few seconds for it to set in how cold his hands were. He refused to let you ponder the subject though, as he resumed kissing your neck roughly. Much rougher than your previous nights, where he had been gentle, patient. His chest was pressed against yours, almost uncomfortably so. You shiver at the words he spoke softly into your ear that day. “I’ll be back for you, don’t worry.”

As soon as you got to your front yard, you threw yourself off of your bike. Not bothering to put it in the garage. Rushing to get to the door, you nearly dropped your keys as they shook, trying to get the damn thing to open. When the door finally slipped open, you scampered through, closing and locking it as you entered.

————————————————————————

“Come here,” you heard him call, “come here baby.” Billy sat down on his old bed, beckoning you forward with his pointer finger. You crawled forward, reaching your hand to touch his thigh. You seemed a mere inch away, but the only thing in front of you was now your kitchen phone. It rang, even as you rushed to pick up the receiver, it simply rang.

You could see him, on the other side of the line. You could feel him. He was cold, afraid, desperate. When the phone would stop ringing, he would dial your number again, placing it to his ear as he awaited your voice. You spoke through the receiver;

“Billy? Are you okay? Why are you so cold?,” you were frantic, trying to express your concern to him. But he wasn’t in his home anymore, he now stood in the field outside of your school. He just stood there, taking a long, shaky drag of his cigarette.

————————————————————————

Your eyes opened lazily, taking in the lights you had left on when you fell asleep. You looked at your bedside clock, it’s 1:26 AM. You stumbled over to the light switch, so inconveniently placed next to the door to your room. You flicked the light off, turning to now return to your slumber. But the familiar feeling of thirst made your throat scratch. You huffed, pulling the door open to stumble your way to the kitchen.

You flicked on the lights in the kitchen, the harshness of the fluorescent light fixture stung your eyes. A cold breeze flowed in from your left, making you shiver as the hair on your arms stood on end. But you got through it, in an attempt to grab a glass of water so you could go back to sleep. You tilted the glass up. “Hmmm?,” the top layer of the water seemed to have frozen. A frustrated huff left your lips. You stumbled towards the entrance of the house, where the thermostat was attached to the wall.

As you turned the corner towards the thermostat, the temperature continued to drop. Your eyes widened, as they landed upon your front door, standing wide open. You froze, not really knowing what to do. When you came to your senses you quickly walked over to close the door. But before you could close it;

Something called out.

The sound seemed to pull you outside. The grass was wet against your bare feet, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You walked for a while, it seemed like it took twice as long as it did on your bike to reach your destination.

Billy’s house was dark; no lights, no sounds. You stepped up to the front door, almost knocking on it, when the sound of those awful curtains flowing outside of Billy’s window reached your ears. You looked up. There was something, no, cigarette smoke being blown outside of the window.

You walked over, noticing the ladder Billy had always set out when he wanted you to come over. It was an old rusty ladder, leaned up against the side of his house where his window was. You placed your hand on the rung, hesitantly. What if the smoke was just your imagination? You would practically be breaking and entering.

You quickly forgot those thoughts though, as you hoisted yourself up the ladder. One rung at a time. The final step onto the roof had always been a little awkward, but you managed. You tip-toed over the roof, taking no chance in waking the people beneath you. You stood under the window now, looking into the pitch black room, in which smoke no-longer emanated.

With a quick breath, you jumped. Your fingertips barely grazed the window sill. But once again, a strong, firm grip held onto your forearms. The grip easily pulled you through the window, with you simultaneously ending up on the floor.

You looked up, seeing those piercing blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Billy!” You stood, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Bringing your body to his. He returned the embrace, nuzzling his face in your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply, as if taking in your scent.

He pulled away for a moment, moving his hand up to hold your jaw. “You heard me calling you?” He asked. It seemed like a rhetorical question, as his answer lies with you standing in front of him. Still, you nodded frantically. He smiled, his grip on your jaw tightening. He spoke; “hmmm, good boy. C’mere.” He pulled you over towards his bed. He sat, having you stand between his legs.

You piped up “Wait, where were you? I tried calling you so many times, and you didn’t answer. I was starting to get—,” something wasn’t right. Where the hell did he go? What happened?

Billy, in an attempt to pull you away from such silly questions, spoke; “You know, you’re so pretty. My pretty little boy, hmmm?” You froze, not knowing how to respond to his words, his touch. Dear lord it was cold in here.

You looked over, Billy must have turned on the lamp on his bedside table while you weren’t looking. Your eyes averted his, instead scanning the walls. It seems he had torn down all of his porno magazines.

You were surprised, he had spent years putting all of those up. But now they were instead replaced with, Polaroid’s? Many of them were blurry, like he had been in a rush. But one of the photos seemed oh-too familiar.

This photo, unlike the others, was framed. It was a photo of you and Billy. He had insisted that you sit on the hood of his car, while one of his buddies took the photo. As you looked closer, you realized that many, if not all of the photos were of you.

Many you remember having told Billy he could take while doing, scandalous things. Others seemed to be of you in many positions. Asleep in his bed, making him breakfast while his dad was at work, and the occasional shot of his hand on your ass.

Billy refused to let you ignore him longer. He pulled you down on the bed. With seemingly more strength than ever. He had you pinned down by your arms. He stared down at you with hungry eyes. His teeth shined in the lamp-light as he licked his lips. He leaned his head down to your lips, kissing them aggressively.

“Shit,” he whispered, “you drive us fucking crazy.” He bit your lip, hard. His action caused you to gasp, attempting to wrench your hands away from his grasp to sooth your lip. He only gripped them harder, with a bruising force. “We’re so lucky,” he breathed. “I thought I was crazy about you before, but he’s showing me just how much I can love you.”

Billy moved both of your wrists to his left hand, using his right to reach for the cuffs on his nightstand. Without warning, he quickly snapped the cuffs around your wrists. You then began to panic, struggling against the cuffs. He still had one hand, holding the chain linking the cuffs. The other, now moving up your neck.

“It’s okay, you can trust us,” his hand gripped your neck softly, “we aren’t gonna hurt you.” You tried kicking, thrashing your legs around. You tried kicking his legs, but it was to no avail as they stood solid where they were.

“Billy, what the fuck!? Let me go, now! Are you crazy?! You disappear for like a week, and now you’re talking about ‘we’!? What do you mean ‘he’s showing you’?!”

His grip tightened around your throat, choking you mid sentence. His expression changed, now darkened, like a switch had been flipped. He spoke, low and hoarse; “Don't fucking talk to us like that! You won’t know a damn thing about what’s out there. He’s shown me shit you couldn’t even imagine,” he growled “this is the only way you’ll be safe. The only way we can make sure you’re all ours.” His expression softened. “You're all ours,” he barely whispered.

As well as his expression, his grip on both your restraints and throat lightened. You took this opportunity, not knowing if such a thing would occur again. You pushed his hands off of you, leaving him momentarily stunned. The handcuffs rendered you slightly, but you pushed up from the bed, jumping over to the window. Making you realize, it was colder inside, than it was outside.

You got practically half way outside before Billy lunged towards you, dragging you down to the floor by your ankles. You fought back, pushing him away. But the seemingly inhuman force he used, easily had you rendered defenseless. “Stop struggling honey,” he huffed. Once again his hands wrapped around your throat. Only this time around, he didn’t hesitate to completely choke you out. He watched you try to pry his hand away, merely sighing as your body went limp beneath him. “Hmmm,” he spoke, “you’ll understand soon darling.”

——————————————————————————

Part two? Maybe?

[lokidrabbles]

The Trouble (Loki x Reader)

Loki comforts reader through an intense episode

A/N: I’m always just a sucker for couples who comfort each other through this type of struggle. As always, Gender Neutral Reader!

Warnings: ANGST, implications of a depressive episode (this does not explicitly mention depression, but does have a lot of symptoms associated)

“They’re not in today, what are you needing Rock of Ages?”

Loki raised an eyebrow as Stark appeared from behind. Normally he’d be irritated with his insistent snooping. Loki was very aware of his lack of welcoming in New York, which he didn’t argue with at all, and aware of how his brother’s new entourage would go out of their way to make sure he wasn’t up to anything.

His focus wasn’t on them today however. He sought out for your companionship, hence his prying into your empty office.

Tony popped in, almost too conveniently, picking up some documents left by you the day prior. “Called in sick today. I know how much you both like to ‘hang out’ and talk shit about everyone.”

“Do you often keep watch over (y/n) as well?” Loki asked mockingly.

“No, they keep an eye on you for me.” Tony responded. “But I gotta admit, I’m also a little worried about them. It’s really out of character for (Y/N) to call me up like that.”

Again, Loki’s first instinct would be irritation at your relationship with Tony. He abhorred how connected you both seemed and the deepened trust you had in him. This time, his first instinct grew in worry over you.

“Care to elaborate, Stark?” He asked hesitantly.

“Uh, no.” Tony said as a matter of fact, scanning through your work. “Firstly, HIPPA, and secondly, if it had anything to do with you, then you’d know.”

Loki gritted his teeth, but urged himself to step back and avoid an altercation with Tony, despite how much of a fool he was. “Why do I even waste my time here with you?”

“Because you love me.”

Loki promptly stormed out of your office, not even allowing Tony to retort back with another snarky snide. However he knew there was some truth to his words. Indeed, if something were wrong, experience showed Loki would be the bearer of news immediately. Whether it’d be through a series of relayed messaged from people to people, or his brother attempting to decipher a ‘text’ from you, Loki would be priority.

This time he wasn’t. And a wave of resentment hit him in the worst way possible. The only logical reasoning behind your choice, or lack of, involved him. Were you upset with him? Did you grow bored? Disinterested? Or indeed, was your relationship with your boss much more intimate than he imagined it to be?

As a man of action, Loki soon found himself at your door. The nagging thought would only continue to pester him until he would crumble under the doubt and self-deprecation. His resentment only grew, but not towards you. His resentment would be directed at himself for being so stupid to have allowed himself to be vulnerable with a mere Midgardian.

He pounded aggressively at your door, thinking how easily it would be for him to tear it down in one swift kick. But that would probably upset you, and he genuinely wanted to have a conversation with you about why he was left out of the loop. And not Tony Stark.

No answer. But he sensed you on the other side, that familiar energy he would grow fond of. Lord, were you avoiding him? He pounded again, this time calling out your name as sternly as he could. He waited for a second, but still no answer.

Resentment now turned into panic. He couldn’t fathom you purposefully avoiding him. And if you were, what did he do? He again, resisted against the temptation of breaking your door handle and entering without your permission.

He called out for you again. “Stop avoiding me. I know you’re there. I simply wish to speak.”

Loki jumped a bit when he heard the locks from the inside slowly beginning to open up. Your door opened slightly ajar, allowing Loki to peer in through a small crevice. He caught you through the small space, wearing an oversized hoodie, big enough to almost fall over and cover your eyes. You looked different, nothing he had ever encountered before.

“Loki.” You spoke out to him, but your voice sounded so distant. It was frail and weak. Your usual enthusiasm or amusement was gone, replaced with a heavy, monotonous touch.

Panic now turned into heartfelt concern. Loki’s eyes slightly widened at your presentation. There was something completely off, something missing, an all too familiar state.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He commanded.

“Nothing.” You responded flatly. “Please leave. I don’t want to see anyone today.”

The door began to slowly close, but Loki strategically placed his boot in between, to prevent you from wanting to fully close it. “You are not in any position to be telling me that, human. Especially after you failed to tell me of your absence at Stark’s.”

“Loki, please. I don’t want to talk right now.” You said, your voice beginning to break.

He snarled, now using his hand to push to door fully ajar, knowing full well you would not match his strength at all. “You will not push me aside (Y/N). I will not be cast away like some rusted piece of history.”

Loki observed you stepping away from the door, possibly in fear of his demanding tone. Your eyes remained hidden, but he could tell your distress from your quivering lips. He cared not, if this was what it took for him to assure himself of your well-being. He fully stepped inside, kicking the door close behind him.

“Now,” He began, stepping closer towards you. “Speak.”

But you didn’t. As if you were stuck in place, you remained in the same spot, your gaze clearly avoiding his. Now more than ever, you appeared much smaller. He observed your rocking back and forth, as if you were disconnected from the world. This wouldn’t do, especially without him getting a good look at your face.

He stood directly in front of you now. “Let me see you. I need to see your eyes.” You remained silent, but still allowing him to reach over the hood to pull it down. He cupped the side of your jaw with both of his hands, pulling you upwards to directly connect your eye contact with his.

Part of Loki’s skill set including being able to observe and read people through non-verbal language. It was a useful asset that always allowed him to peer into anyone’s hidden intentions. He could easily asses whether someone would be lying, when someone would be scared, or when someone was hiding any valuable information. A simple dilation of the eyes, or flared nostrils could detail a lot about a person, and would of course allow him to take advantage of. But perhaps his best deciphering skills would not prepare for him for the sight.

Tears. Cheeks stained with trails upon trails of salty tears. Eyes so bloodshot and weary, he could see how it even pained you to look up at him in the faint light of your home. Your eyes, once full of light and joy, now appeared hollow and empty. His mouth fell agape, encountering that same familiar feeling from long ago. This was turmoil. This was anger towards your own self. And this was the loss of purpose. Never did he think he would find you in the worst of positions, one he was much too intimate with long ago.

But he knew he didn’t need to ask why.

Loki wiped away the remaining moisture from your cheeks, his gaze now falling soft onto yours. “Oh, my love. You’ve been through a treacherous battle, haven’t you?”

 “I don’t know whats wrong with me. It just keeps coming, and coming, and it doesn’t stop. Why am I getting like this?” Your breath became shallow as you spoke and your voice still remained weak and frail.

“My love, you don’t need to understa-”

“Loki, I’m so scared. I’m scared I’m just going to get stuck like this. Am I just fucking broken?” You became agitated, your eyes beginning to pool again.

“No, you need to stop saying that. You are not broken.” He said, holding you firmly at your shoulders. “You will be able to get through this, and you won’t be alone. I will be here with you.”

“No, I can’t.” You began to break down, now pulling and tugging at your hair. “Just leave me, I’m so fucking useless and stupid-”

“(Y/N). Stop. You will not hurt yourself like this.” His voice boomed, now pulling your wrists away from your hair.  “What you are going to do is listen to me.”

Your breath hitched, staring at Loki with fully leaking eyes. Loki felt his stomach twist as he continued to grip at your trembling wrists. You were so frightened at yourself. He knew the feeling all too well. He connected with your current sense of hopelessness, wanting to completely disappear from reality just to avoid disappointing those close to you. In his previous years, he would have taken this as a blatant sign of weakness. Loki used to be harsh in that way, and especially towards himself.  The notion was absolutely disgusting, and he imagined himself hating it even more coming from a human.

But not with you. All he could think of was wrapping his strong arms around you, keeping you close to him to ensure your safety and your happiness. He followed with his instinct, and the pulled you close towards him, one hand caressing the back of your head and the other promptly over the small of your back.

He allowed you to melt with him, feeling your smaller arms wrap around his torso. You began to spasm, releasing the full force of your sadness onto his chest. He was not bothered by the wet feeling, but content with your transparency with him.

“Listen to me.” He said tenderly, placing his chin at the top of your head. “I know it’s hard. It’s horrendous, but you cannot allow it to control you. Everything it’s telling you is a lie. You are not any of those things.”

“L-loki-”

“You’re wonderful. You’re so kind, and gentle. You are the only person I look forward to seeing every single day I am in this city. No one else matters, it’s only you (Y/N).”

Loki also didn’t care if he was being transparent with you. He knew his feelings for you were reciprocated as well.

“I am sorry if I came off too strongly earlier, but I couldn’t fathom not seeing you today.”

He felt your body becoming slightly relaxed, still allowing you to push your full weight onto his chest. You rubbed your eyes on him, hiccuping in the process.

“I’m sorry Loki.” You said muffled.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I didn’t mean to push you away. I just, didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Do not hide yourself from me, please.” He said. “It would pain me to not be here by your side.”

He kissed the top of your head, still holding his tight embrace over you. Your smaller frame seemed to fit just as well along his larger frame. He relished in the moment, taking into account your arms also still tightly clinging onto him.He would continue to protect you in any way he could, even if it was against yourself.

[neverendingparable]

KuroŌji

This wouldn’t leave my mind until I wrote it. Inspired by the fact that no matter how cool a black butler AU would be, there’s no way Phobos would go around serving a human being (probably?). And so...

@sassycompanions

TW for mentions of torture through sleep deprivation, death, and demon shenanigans.

Sleep deprivation did all kinds of things to you.

He knew it well by now, the familiar agonizing ache of forced wakefulness, how it felt like to be so tired he wanted to sob or whimper or beg for mercy.

But the experiments kept on going, relying on his unwilling participation to find and remove whatever obnoxious part of the human mind robbed society those precious eight hours of their lives.

If they could cure sleep, they would change the world. And get very, very rich. And that sort of purpose is enough to dismiss a few human lives no one would truly mourn for.

Hallucinations were common. They twisted at the edges of his vision at first, then crept closer, getting bolder and more frequent. He'd hear breathing next to his ear and see no one there when he'd turn his head. Or the soft murmur of voices roused him from his miserable thoughts, lingering even when he'd focus.

Sometimes he'd like to imagine they were his shadowy friends, unable to help other than keeping him company for however long he had left. Or he'd imagine this was a horrid nightmare he could wake up from, that the cage and the needles and the never ending torture for the sake of science were nothing but a mean trick his mind was playing on him when in reality he was tucked away safely in some bed, safe and loved, the real world's whispers seeping into his dreams.

But as vivid as they were, they never interacted much with him, their shapes disappearing when he'd grasp at them.

So when one night, one of the shadows reached through the bars of his cage and gave him a curious prod, he knew something was off.

The sudden touch startled him so badly, he nearly leapt across the cramped space to get away from the shadowy hand whose owner, a dim face half visible in the darkness, was now watching him with amusement.

They stared at each other for a couple of moments.

This is a vivid dream, he thought finally.

Ah, not quite~ a voice responded in his head. It was melodic, with a hint of an accent he couldn't quite place. None of the previous voices were this coherent.

I've gone insane, haven’t I? Took long enough, I suppose.

Darling, you're not even halfway there yet.

The experiment closed his eyes and shook his head fiercely. When he opened it again, the shadow hadn't disappeared.

You're still here?

Did you think it would be that easy?

Who are you?

The shadow's smile stretched wider, inhumanely so and despite all the horrors he had gone through before, the sight struck him with dread.  Its voice scratched on the inside of his mind like fingernails on bone, making him shudder.

เ ค๓ ץ๏ยг ฬ๏гรt ภเɠђt๓คгє

He wanted to scoff, laugh and tell the shadow it was a little too late to the party. But then it twisted its form, for just a minute, and the face that leered out from behind the shadows made his heart stop in terror. A beat later it was back to being indistinct, floating between the cage bars, amused at his ever growing fear.

Have you come to kill me? He thought, unsure what answer he was hoping for.

No, it grinned back.

Then...

Don't you remember? You called me. You want to make a deal with the ๔єvเl, you foolish human.

But don’t you see that no matter they do to you, เ ςคภ ๒є ๓ยςђ ฬ๏гรє~?

It prodded his forehead with a shadowy finger and he believed it. The experiments here could break his body  before his spirit but this...demon, it could reach into his mind and cut the very cords that tethered him to sanity. It could probably rip his soul out if it wanted to.

But it was looking for something. It wouldn't have come just to kill an abomination that would be dead in less than a few weeks. He felt another thing right then, something more painful than the hellish torment his body had endured and with this tiny flame of hope burning inside of him, he reached out and asked to be saved.

Protect me, he begged. And I'll serve you however you want.

The being reached into the cage and he placed a hand in its cold palm. It seemed pleased.

We have a deal.

                                            ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

"Just kill me already, please." Mason moaned, staring at the list of tasks he had just been handed with a mix of despair and annoyance.

Rooms to clean.

Supplies to stock up on, which meant a trip into town.

Writing and sending off letters address to various partners of his Lord, shady or dangerous people who dropped off packages and signed contracts even he didn't get to look at.

Tending to rose bushes, watering the garden, just to name a few.

"Tsk, that would go against our contract." Came the reply, filled with feigned indignance.

Mason's head snapped up and glowered at the man lounging on the regal couch, watching him with obvious mirth.

A butler who complained about work was worthless in most households and would be replaced by yes men who followed every command with a docile bow. But that would be too boring, wouldn’t it?

His Lord allowed him the occasional grumble without any severe reprimanding because Phobos took great delight in his suffering and never missed an opportunity to point out how serving a high maintenance prince was a hell of a lot better than rotting away in some moldy cage.

He was right, of course.

"I restocked this yesterday!" Mason continued regardless. "And we don't have any guests over for at least another week, why do I need to clean the rooms out now?"

"You can't possibly know that," the prince replied, calmly picking up a porcelain tea cup with a graceful hand. "I may be expecting guests."

"Shouldn’t you tell me then? Seeing how I am your butler and need to know if we are expecting company?"

"Ah, do you?" Phobos' eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "It seems like you spend more time arguing and whining than being useful."

Mason opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Of course, my Lord." He sighed, giving him a disingenuous bow. "I apologize."

Phobos dismissed him with a wave that meant 'now don’t bother me again unless it has something to do with food, wine or actual entertainment' and Mason withdrew back into the kitchen to check with Charlotte if they have enough food for any surprise visits Phos the future threw at them.

(He was convinced that Phobos sometimes threw impromptu balls just to watch him scramble around desperately arranging catering and schedules at last second.)

When the shadowy figure had first pulled him out of that hell hole, Mason had expected a lot of things. A culling, perhaps. Hell. A place of punishment.

Instead, he got a butler costume, his name back and a grand, luxurious dark castle to look after, spoiled prince included.

Learning to serve was hard but Phobos refused to go easy on him, giving him elaborate instructions of how he wanted things and forcing him to spend hours perfecting the chores. When Charlotte eventually came into their midst, he was happy to hand over the cooking to someone else.

Mason never figured out why the prince kept them around - maybe out of loneliness or boredom or a hidden sinister plan yet to be discovered - but he kept up his end of the deal.

A few times, someone came for Mason. Their bodies never left the castle and he burned the remains in the basement's hearth.

Months after his rescue, a rich doctor stopped by for a visit. He had only one servant along, a sickly looking maid with hollow eyes. What had happened behind closed doors was unknown to them both, but when Mason came to serve tea, he found the doctor, lying in a pool of his own blood. He had sent the maid back into the kitchen before she could see the mess and wordlessly cleaned the blood off his Lord's hands.

Thus Charlotte joined their little party.

Mason learnt a few things about Phobos too, in the time they spent together. 

He had a different name, once upon a time and a past he spoke of occasionally with a hint of derision and disgust. He had been a powerful tyrant, reflected in the way his guests spoke in his presence. He had a curse that tore him apart and left him exhausted, his room always smelling faintly of blood afterwards. None of Mason's questions were ever answered directly, so he learned to keep spare bed sheets and healing flasks at hand, knew how to recognize the signs of pain when his Lord was too proud to ask for help and ended up on a first name basis with the witches in town in his search for a cure.

You can't cure a demon, Phobos mocked him constantly. 

Mason disagreed. 

If a soul could be redeemed by a deal with the devil, then he felt quite confident of attempting the impossible.

[eirian-houpe]

17 and 24 for the “get to know your author” asks!

17. if you could give your fledgling author self any advice, what would it be?

Just write. Don't worry about other people might thing (unless maybe they're grading you for it), just put things down in your own way and make your writing your own. Learn the 'rules' and then learn to break them in the best ways that make you (not others) sit up and go wow! Write for yourself, not for others. There's a saying, "No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader." - it's damn true, also learn to allow yourself to be just a little bit proud of your writing. Believe in yourself, and then other people will believe in you too!

24. One answer I gave to @deliriumsdelight7 when she asked this question was about when I was writing SGA, and specifically the hybrid "Michael" - I learned a lot of genetic science for that series of fics, and honestly (see above) I'm proud of those fics.

Another - starting with the same caveat I prefaced the SGA fic on the previous answer, is to say, I'm far from an expert by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm part way through a huge sprawling Tolkien fic - sort of in the frame of "Histories of Middle Earth." For that fic it was pretty vital that I learned some Elvish. Okay, quite a bit of Elvish...

I know you didn't ask for it, but here... have a snippet.

He felt his lips tremble as the despair made his already laboured breath harder yet to catch.  Felt the barest brush of warmth, subtle but unmistakably there as Elrond reached to anchor him.

"No," he breathed, the word long, drawn out and plaintive. "Elrond, let me go."

"I cannot."

"Close the drapes," he all but begged the other Elf.  "Shut me from all light and let me go.  The world is but pale shadow without her, and I am but a speck of dust within it."

He felt the strength of Elrond's fingers close around his own as the Elven Lord took his hand, and he clung to him, terrified of his own despair, like a child lost in the dark.

"Ai, Thranduil," Elrond whispered softly, leaning down to him. "Na onen teri ad pân i naeth o hen amar ammen ad erio or pân hain.  You must live. Celyn knew this."

Thranduil let out a sobbing breath.

"Your people need you," Elrond said with earnest urgency. "Your son needs you."

"He needs his mother," Thranduil ground out through clenched teeth.

"He has his father."

"He has lived but six years! They doted on one another, Elrond," Thranduil all but implored the other Elf. "It was a joy to behold.  How can I even hope to replace that?"

"You cannot," Elrond answered and shook his head, "You need not. You are his father, and Legolas loves you."

Thranduil closed his eyes, everything in him aching with the effort of simply being; of breathing, of each successive heartbeat.  It would be so easy just to let go.

"I amar dannen di i dhim," he whispered.

This fic is called Laer o Faen, and you can find it on AO3. (Also, pardon the British English spelling)

[thebibliomancer]

Essential Avengers: Avengers #238: Unlimited Vision

December, 1983

He is Oz, the great and terrible. And he can see ALL.

So what’s going on here? Has Vision been in a tube-coma so long that they just decided to replace him with a giant hologram?

Dunno, but he sure is filling the room with too much pink energy and kirby crackle.

So, there’s been a bit leading up to this.

In Avengers #233, Vision and Scarlet Witch were called in as reservists to help the team with an invisible dome Annihilus was using to destroy the universe, as ya don’t do. When Vision intangibled into the dome, he immediately fell onto his face inert. After the crisis, Reed Richards/Mr. Fantastic examined the synthezoid and said that nothing was actually seriously wrong and that Vision would be able to repair himself.

Despite that, he’s been inert in a tube since #234, moved into the Avengers Mansion so they could keep an eye on him. Maybe Reed doesn’t know shit because it’s been several issues!

The Avengers have been taking shifts watching Vision and the least suited to sitting still and watching an inert synthezoid is on duty as this issue opens.

“But being an Avenger, he’s discovered, doesn’t mean saving the universe every waking moment. Sometimes, it requires a lot of sitting... and watching... and waiting!”

Hahahahahah!

I might sympathize more if it weren’t for his full page rant.

Like this goes beyond bored and into ‘UGH I have to do something not immediately entertaining??’

Wait, I’m like that sometimes...

Starfox: “I just don’t understand! My father’s computer assured me that the Earth would be teeming with excitement and adventure -- and from previous experience, I knew that the Avengers invariably became involved in such adventures. But I haven’t seen a bit of action since we saved Project Pegasus from total destruction. That was more than a day ago! Now with Thor off on a mission in space... Captain America away on a personal mission... and the lovely ladies of the Avengers taking the afternoon off, naturally it’s the ‘trainee’ who gets stuck with keeping watch over the Vision!”

“By Chronos, is there no justice?! Where are the thrills, the challenges?!? Am I never to know satisfaction? I didn’t come all the way to Earth just to stand watch over some infernal android in a life-support-tube!”

“Ah, forgive me, friend Vision. I should not make you the object of my resentment. You were, after all, injured to end the threat of Annihilus. It’s just that sitting around and playing nursemaid to a comatose synthetic man is hardly my idea of fun!”

Vision: “I sympathize... but it has not been enjoyable for me either.”

HAH!

Imagine complaining so hard about having to go a day without an adventure that you wake a robot from a robot coma.

Over in a scene shift, there’s Monica “Captain Marvel” Rambeau trying out a boat in the Gulf of Mexico. The salesman is trying to close the deal but Monica finds herself distracted by the events of the previous issue.

Even though she saved the day from lava men and then stopped a nuclear meltdown, she still feels crappy that Moonstone and Blackout escaped AND that Blackout was able to capture her.

When the salesman finally gets her attention again she says she needs a bigger boat!

I’m still wondering what her new career is going to be! She’s taken out a small business loan and looking into buying a boat.

Possibly shark hunting?

Good on her for building a life away from avenging. You never know when you have to retire from superheroing and take up a civilian career.

Back at the Vision tube, Starfox sets up a voice amplifier on Vision’s tube so Vision can talk more easily.

It transpires that he didn’t just wake up in time to deliver the ultimate dunk on Starfox, he’s been conscious for several days. He’s been able to hear and see what’s been going on around him but he hasn’t been able to move or talk.

Starfox apologizes for his rant but Vision doesn’t actually mind.

Vision: “No offense taken. I found it entertaining in a way... I hadn’t heard such vitriol since the time the Beast found himself on monitor duty during the opening night of a Roger Corman film festival. As a matter of fact, I’ve enjoyed all of the one-way conversations that have gone on about me. Captain America’s war stories were most informative -- and the She-Hulk’s stories were quite amusing... If a bit tawdry!”

Amazing.

I actually like that the Avengers have been talking to Vision like a person in a meat coma and not ignoring him like a dysfunctioning fridge of a Jocasta.

He’s their buddy and they kept talking to him in hopes that somewhere he heard them. And he did!

Even all the dirty jokes!

Vision tells Starfox that he’s mostly confused about all the paralysis and that his repair systems haven’t restored his movement. He wishes that he could more fully analyze his condition.

Which gives Starfox a wonderful idea! A wonderful, terrible idea!

He calls up Jarvis on the video-intercom and asks what the range of the Avengers communication system is. Like. In terms of... interplanetary?

Jarvis: “All equipment is state-of-the-art, sir. I dare say we could make contact with any corner of the Solar System!”

I know that the Avengers deal with a lot of space nonsense so it makes sense that they’d need that range. Starcore-One and all.

Anyway, Starfox uses a tight beam signal to communicate allll the way to the master computer ISAAC on Titan.

Meanwhile, the three whole women on the Avengers (She-Hulk, Wasp, and Scarlet Witch) are on a mission together. A friend mission. A friend mission of find She-Hulk an apartment mission because that’s been a subplot for a while and She-Hulk deserves nice things.

Huh! If you ever wondered what the relative heights of some Avengers were here we are.

She-Hulk is most tall. Scarlet Witch is pretty tall. And Wasp is a short.

Comics being comics and not big on consistency, I’m sure this is contradicted a dozen different places. But its fun.

Of course, in the innocent 80s (??) people just weren’t used to seeing tall green woman a-walking down the street and gawk.

But it doesn’t bother She-Hulk like it used to.

She-Hulk: “I must be getting used to this town, Waspie! The gawkers don’t faze me in the least anymore. In fact, I’m starting to have fun, staring back!”

Wasp: “Uh-huh! I’ve noticed you practicing on our dreamy new trainee! Starfox is really something, isn’t he, She-Hulk?”

She-Hulk: “You know it!”

Scarlet Witch: Starfox does have a certain something in the way he carries himself...

She-Hulk: “I’ll bet that Starfox even does something for an old married lady like the witch!”

Scarlet Witch: “Wh-what?! Why, that’s ridiculous! I mean... that is... the Vision is the only man in my life!”

She-Hulk: “Aw, come on, Wanda! You’re married, not dead! ‘Fess up, don’t you like the way Starfox just sort of... stands around?”

Scarlet Witch: “Well, if you put it that way -- !”

Just some gals being friends and talking about how hot their new co-worker is.

Just objectifying a foxy guy... from space.

I like She-Hulk someone immediately sensing Wanda thinking about how hot Starfox is. She has a sixth sense for it.

And I fear because Janet “Aesthetic Appreciation for Every Man” Van Dyne now has a comrade in arms in Jennifer “What are inhibitions?” Walters.

The three arrive at the apartment building Jan found for Jen (not confusing at all). The rental agent isn’t around but Jan basically does whatever she wants and the door is open so they go in to look around.

And its a good apartment! Its got a terrace, high ceilings, deep carpeting! Its perfect for She-Hulk! The long subplot is finally at a resolution!

Alas.

The rental agent comes in and when he learns that its Jen who wants to rent the place. Really wants to rent the place. “You can draw up a lease -- I don’t care how much the rent is!” wants to rent the place. He has one (1) concern.

Rental agent: “My lord! You... you’re green!”

She-Hulk: “Yeah, and you’re a pasty shade of pink! So what?”

Rental agent: “I... I can’t rent to you! What would the other tenants say?”

Oo buddy that’s illegal under the Fair Housing Act. Especially if you just come out and say it. Granted, I don’t think it foresaw this exact scenario so let me rephrase. Oo buddy she is not shy about hurting people who annoy her.

She-Hulk: “Outta my way, Jan! I want to turn Mr. Pink black-and-blue!”

Wasp: “Forget it, Jennie! We’ll find a better place!”

But since Wanda doesn’t have any patience with bigotry, she uses her magic-science mutant magic to set off the fire sprinklers above Rental Agent.

I guess he’s allll washed up.

Back over in New Orleans, Monica returns to her apartment still hung up on Blackout and Moonstone getting away.

I guess it is her first failure as a superhero? It’s a very minor one but if you were on a winning streak before, it could knock you for a loop. Monica seems like the sort of person who holds herself to very high standards.

She considers calling the Avengers on her bracelet radio to see if there’s any leads on the two loose ends but then realizes that she can travel at the speed of light. She may as well just pop into the mansion!

Monica has cool powers.

But when she arrives inside the mansion, she sees a bunch of electronic components just floating through the mansion.

Soooo she follows them. Gotta see what’s going on.

She finds Starfox in the medical room constructing some apparatus around Vision’s tube.

Starfox explains that stuff be floating because ISAAC is using an attractor beam to assemble an apparatus. ISAAC being the Titan computer Integral Synaptic Anti-Anionic Computer.

It sure is cool that some Eternals that went to live on Titan before modern English existed still managed to name their computer ISAAC.

And its cool that ISAAC can apparently influence things like this halfway across the solar system.

Anyway, ISAAC is linked up with the main computers of Avengers’ Mansion to build a more specialized medical computer to get a better idea of what’s going on with Vision.

Vision: “It sounds complicated, Captain, but the principles involved are actually quite simple.”

Captain Marvel: “Vision? You spoke!”

Vision: “That seems to surprise everyone... pleasantly, I hope.”

He explains that if everything goes well with this apparatus, he hopes to be ambulatory again before tomorrow. And also, because he’s a class act, thanks Monica for the stories of New Orleans she shared when she was on Vision duty.

In a funny continuity nod, Vision notes that he and Wanda went to New Orleans once (in issue #152) but didn’t have time to sight-see. Because there was a lot of voodoo nonsense going on.

The Avengers tend to go all over the world but they also tend to be involved in nonsense and can’t enjoy it.

Monica isn’t sure whether they should go ahead with this without consulting the other Avengers but Starfox shrugs that it’s Vision’s decision.

Vision: “In that case, I choose to begin analysis immediately!”

In fairness, I’m sure he’s fed up with lying in a tube staring at the ceiling. Bring on the untested science! My god, just anything novel!

Starfox activates the devices, showing Vision’s body with unearthly energies whiiich makes him twitch and spasm and then a tiny Vision head pops out of his forehead gem.

Mazel tov?

I don’t think that was the intended outcome.

Outside, She-Hulk, Scarlet Wanda, and Wasp are returning from Apartment Quest.

Wanda mentions that she didn’t mean to be away from Vision this long.

Wasp: “Don’t worry, Wanda. I’m sure nothing’s gone wrong!”

Giant disembodied Vision head: “WRONG? ON THE CONTRARY, EVERYTHING’S GONE JUST FINE!”

Oh my god, he got Oz’d.

Imagine coming home to that! You go on an errand with a friend to take your mind off your coma robot husband and you come back and he’s a giant holographic head!

The three Avengers rush inside and find a more reasonably sized Vision hologram and Starfox protesting that this wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

Yeah, I suspected.

But Vision is thrilled with this turn of events!

Vision: “Evidently, the internal dysfunction in my body caused a data feedback-loop which overloaded my brain with ISAAC’s energy-information matrix. Simply put -- I have become as one with ISAAC and our own computer systems! The ability to project this holographic construct is a fortuitous side-effect!”

Huuuuuuuuuh!

Vision merged with some computers. This is fine. Is this fine? Is Vision fine? Starfox wants to know and so do I.

Vision: “ALL RIGHT?!? I’ve never been able to think more clearly. Even with my body temporarily out of order, I can be of great help to the Avengers! I can out-think, out-deduce any computer system in the world! All the information in our files is mine -- instantly! For instance -- I see there’s some unfinished business pending! Two opponents escaped us recently! Those two must be found!”

Well, Monica will be happy with that at least.

Geez, Vision is kind of... manic? Maybe its just the contrast to how dour he tend to be. But he definitely seems keyed up. Like he’s running high on having all these computers running through his brain.

Is this robot drugs?

Wait, no, vibranium is robot drugs. Is this other robot drugs? Connect to a super-computer and scream I’M THINKING SO FAST! ?

MEANWHILE, those very two miscreants!

In a hideout in the Bronx, Blackout is ranting paranoid about how they’re out to get him and are going to merge him with the light spectrum and destroy his humanity. Which is fairly unique paranoid ranting.

Of course, while he’s focused on glaring out the window, he’s not paying attention to Moonstone who prepares a drugged cup of coffee for him.

Blackout: “You’re the only one, Moonstone... the only one who hasn’t betrayed me!”

Moonstone: “That’s right! You can trust me! Now, drink it all down!”

Womp womp.

The drug makes Blackout trance out and Moonstone uses this to start interrogating him about his origin. And... maybe trying to help him? She did start off as a therapist. And even as a villain, she sometimes does therapy.

For some damn reason, Hank “Good Ideas” Pym got her to look over Avengers Academy kids down the line and offer her thoughts on them.

Anyway. Moonstone asks how he got this way:

Blackout: “Well... I ‘spose it all started when Dr. Croit set me up so I’d have to be his guinea pig. He... charged up my body with the power of a black star! That’s why I... *yawn* ... had to punish him!”

Moonstone: “Shh! I want you to listen closely... there are no black-star energies... There’s no conspiracy against you! Let your mind drift back! I want you to tell me what really happened!”

So what really happened is here’s how a Mark Daniels became a man with a lightning bolt mask. He was a lab assistant to Dr. Croit.

Blackout: “He always wanted to be everyone’s big daddy!”

Um. Okayyy?

Anyway, Mark Daniels was helping Croit build an experimental device for tapping energy from other dimensions. And, at least according to Blackout, Dr. Croit liked Mark Daniels because he was a dummy who didn’t understand the experiment at all.

Then one day, while he longingly caressed it, the device blew up in Mark Daniels’ face, somehow making his body a control surface for tapping into another universe’s “dark force.”

Dr. Croit wanted to cure Mark Daniels who took exception to the idea of having his newfound power taken away. So he killed Dr. Croit and the other assistants.

But the power was running out of control (shouldn’t have killed the doctor, ya dingus) and before Blackout could use the stabilizer to save himself, he got stuck... somewhere. Its a bit fuzzy to him until he popped out in Project Pegasus.

Moonstone believes that his mind couldn’t cope with what happened to him so he made up the black star nonsense to be An Explanation.

Moonstone: Imagine... all of that power at the command of a raving paranoid! Yes, but he’s a paranoid who trusts me! Now that I have a handle on his power, I should be able to manipulate him into doing just about anything I wish! Why, with the dimensional-warping potential of a power like his, we could be unstoppable!

“Blackout, we have a very bright future ahead of us!”

And then Vision pops in from nowhere and gives Moonstone a startle.

She fires some of her hand pew pew at him but he’s a hologram and just sasses back.

Moonstone runs to wake up Blackout while Vision can’t help but show off how smart he is now that his computer brain is overclocked.

Vision: “It was, of course, clever of you to seek refuge in a hideaway of your former ally, Egghead! Unfortunately, with all the cross-referenced data instantly at my disposal, tracing you here was child’s play!”

Blackout wakes up and Moonstone basically points at Vision and tells him ‘get ‘im!’ and Blackout gets ‘im.

He uses the same imprisoning black sphere move on Vision as he did on Captain Marvel.

And it probably would have worked. If Vision was really here. He’s just a hologram. And, sure, the light of the hologram would probably be trapped in the sphere too. It trapped Captain Marvel when she was light. But Vision is being projected from elsewhere so he can just turn the projection off and then turn it on slightly to the left.

Vision: “I’m sorry, but that won’t work either! You see -- I’m not really here at all! But my friends are!”

Oh, Vision, you sassmaster.

Moonstone’s ‘knows when to fold them’ kind of lapsed when she was attacking Vision instead of remembering ‘hey doesn’t that guy hang with the Avengers?’ but a whole bunch of Avengers busting in reminds her.

She blasts the floor beneath her and Blackout to try to escape and has Blackout seal the hole behind them to buy time.

But Scarlet Witch is still a great counter to... maybe anyone? But especially Blackout.

She waves her hands at the black barrier and it turns into goo and drips all over Blackout and Moonstone, ensnaring them before they can even try to run.

The Avengers storm after the two villains.

Trapped, Moonstone tells Blackout its up to him to stop the Avengers!

Moonstone: “Concentrate on your power! It’s greater than you realize! If you try, you can control it completely... make it do anything! Concentrate... make this 'dark force’ release us! Yes... that’s it! You’re doing it! But you can do more than just reform the darkness into a protective sheath! You can turn it back on the Avengers... you can make them merge with the darkness! And then we can get out of here!”

Vision warns the Avengers that the dark-force is a manifestation of another universe but She-Hulk is skeptical so goes to grab Blackout out of the black goo but her arm goes right through him.

And not in the gory way that you’d see these days.

Blackout and Moonstone are pretty perplexed too.

Apparently, he done goofed and merged him and Moonstone with the darkness and the two get sucked into a singularity and disappear.

Vision: “This may be a first... Our enemies have actually imprisoned themselves!”

Geez, Vision, these assholes might be dead.

-google- Huh. Nope. They’ll be back to menace.... Dazzler? Huh. It be like that sometimes.

Sidenote: I do like that Captain Monica Marvel, as the newest to this superhero life, is the one that most visibly shows shock and consternation at two villains being sucked into an unknown fate.

It’s a nice touch.

Even though the villains maybe got away? Or got sent to the next dimension? She-Hulk congratulates Vision on finding them. And then notes, seconded by Wanda, that Vision is becoming more of a vision.

Scarlet Witch: “Darling? Your holographic projection is starting to fade!”

Vision: “So it is! I seem to be having some difficulty maintaining the transmission over the distance! Perhaps I’ve overextended myself a bit.”

He decides to switch off the projection to run a systems check.

Later, back at the mansion, the Giant Floating Head of Vision reassures everyone.

Vision: “I was just explaining to Captain Marvel that there’s nothing to worry about! As I’d already guessed, the strain of the long-distance transmission was a bit taxing. A few days of rest, and I’ll be able to transmit myself almost anywhere. Of course, by then, I hope to be physically mobile, as well.”

Scarlet Witch: “Vision, you must be more careful! It’s not safe for you to consider using this power again... not until you’re fully healed!”

Vision: “You mean ‘repaired,’ Wanda. But, yes, a certain amount of caution is required. I must adjust to this extra power in stages. Once I’ve mastered it, I’ll never be so helpless again. I’ll be able to do anything... anything!”

Well.

That’s a massive red flag.

Being locked in a tube has not done wonders for Vision’s emotional state that he always pretends he doesn’t have.

(Side note again: I like that Wasp’s costume has an open back, for her wings. It’s another nice touch.)

Starfox asks if Vision has ever had ego problems but Wasp says he’s never had a swelled head like this.

Nah, not exactly. But can you imagine!

But yeah, no, she says he’s never showed ego like this before.

Its actually such a massive red flag that everyone present seems to pick up on it.

But there’s no time to address that because they get an emergency call from Tigra.

Ah, Tigra! You were fun the short amount of time you were here. What wacky hijinxes do you have going on now?

Tigra: “I’m at St. Anthony’s Hospital in San Francisco, Jan. No, I’m fine -- but a friend of mine is literally at death’s door. She may not make it if we don’t get some help fast... and I mean big help! It’s hard to explain over the phone, but... do you believe in ghosts?”

!!!!

Why, Tigra! I didn’t know you and Spider-Woman were friends!

So next time.... uh. We won’t be addressing this right away. The next Avengers’ issue is an infamous offering from Assistant Editor’s Month and before we can even get to that, we need to look into what Hawkeye has been up to because it’s kinda relevant. Or will be relevant soon. When Marvel decides to give this liveblog a headache by splitting the party.

Oh yes, West Coast Avengers looms in the near future. As does Secret Wars. As does David Letterman!

Good grief!

Follow @essential-avengers​ because I’m going to try to cover all these things. That’s a good reason to follow, probably. Also, like and reblog if you like to reblog.

[the-odd-job]

Harem AU Chapter 18 - Made Of

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Sunstreaker & Sideswipe Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Soundwave, Shockwave, Chromia, Lancer, First Aid, Perceptor, Greenlight Additional Tags: Noncon Experimentation, Angst Words: 14547

( Previous )

Sunstreaker still had a limp the next day. It wasn’t just pain that had stolen his legs from under him—apparently Megatron had generously messed up his entire hips. Knock Out had fixed or replaced everything, but they didn’t have the time to wait for the parts to fully integrate before Hot Shot came to let them know they were wanted at the door.

They could guess what that was about.

At least Sunstreaker stayed on his pedes well enough, partially numb areas making his movement lag or not. The guards opened the doors for them, and on the other side was waiting… The same blue mech that had given them their dinner instructions. He had another smile to give them. “Good morning. Master Shockwave sent me to get you.”

As they’d guessed, then. They nodded their understanding and the mate waved them along. No guards moved to accompany them, oddly enough. Was it because the way wasn’t that long?

It didn’t seem like that was the case when they headed for the elevators instead of any of the other wings on the same floor. Sideswipe watched the number the mate picked on the lift’s control panel. They were way high up, nearly at the top of the whole damn tower.

Their destination, according to the floor the elevator was directed to go to, was far, far lower. He wasn't sure they'd ever gone that low in the tower. They'd been brought in via a rotorflier that had already landed pretty high up, and they'd only gone higher still from there.

Total opposite now. It was going to be a long ride.

And awkwardly quiet if no one said anything, in Sideswipe's opinion. Or, well, awkward for him. Sunstreaker wasn't likely to care, and he wasn't sure the other mate would either.

But in the name of not feeling so awkward himself, Sideswipe spoke up. “You’re from… Shockwave’s harem?” he asked. The blue mech had a brand on him and was clearly running around on Shockwave's business, so… 

They confirmed it. "I am. We never had proper introductions, did we? I'm Chromia." His field flared in proper greeting and Sideswipe's automatically responded to it. Sunstreaker's did too, after a moment's delay.

"You probably know our designations already," Sideswipe hazarded, a guess Chromia confirmed with a nod. He had to have asked for them specifically, anyways. Hard to do that if you didn't know who you were supposed to get.

But if they were going to have some small talk… There were things Sideswipe was curious about, and Chromia might just have some answers.

Firstly, "How high ranking is Shockwave, exactly?"

"He answers only to Lords Megatron and Soundwave," Chromia said, and it looked like this wasn't an off limits topic, because he stayed relaxed and casual. "He's Lord Megatron's Head of Scientific Research. Rather important figure, as I'm sure you can imagine."

As for his part, Sideswipe wasn't feeling very relaxed or casual when keeping in mind where they were going, but tried to pretend he was anyway. Just chit chat, that was all! And learning a bit more about Kaon's ruling class or whatever you wanted to call it while at it. That couldn't hurt. 

But. So. They were headed to get experimented on by what might be the third most powerful mech in Kaon, when they'd already established to themselves that you didn't make it to ranks like that by being nice. "What's he like? Shockwave I mean,” Sideswipe asked carefully. What kind of things could one even say about their mate? ‘Oh, they’re a total rapist and abuser, real jackass, I hate their guts’.

No one in Megatron’s harem would’ve said that. Well, aside from him and Sunstreaker. They would’ve said that.

"Hm?" Chromia looked at him, although Sideswipe wouldn't have called his expression all the way surprised.

He really wasn't sure what to call it at all, but Chromia answered him anyway, unreadable emotions or not. "He's fair, I'll give him that. Unapologetic in the pursuit of knowledge, but you don't need to worry about that. Lord Megatron doesn't allow harm to come to his mates. Master Shockwave respects that."

Out of genuine respect, or because Megatron would do something very bad to him if he broke his rules? Probably the latter.

"What do you mean, 'unapologetic'?" Sunstreaker spoke up sharply. Chromia gave him that same look that neither of them could quite name.

"He'll go as far as he needs to to get answers, when orders otherwise aren't holding him back."

Like orders would be holding him back in his and Sunstreaker's case. Hopefully. But the implications behind those words were… Heavy. Chromia didn't outright say so, but Sideswipe could imagine that as far as he needs to really did mean as far as he needs to. Ethics, morals? Damn those, most likely. It would fit the rest of the place. All the other things they’d already seen and felt them do… What was some experimentation while at it? The subjects probably didn’t consent, but consent meant jackall here.

They weren’t consenting either, but Megatron had given them up for tests and whatever else, so… That was what was going to happen. Chromia’s assurances that no harm would come to them felt thin when he fully expected that even some very unpleasant things would count as not harm.  

Then, was it too personal to ask… Sideswipe asked anyway. “How long have you been in his harem?”

Megatron’s harem didn’t talk about things like that, but then again, they hadn’t gone out of their way to ask either. They had no idea how long anyone there had been in Megatron’s clutches, or how they’d gotten caught in that net, what their life was like before… None of that. They had no idea. 

But Chromia wasn’t put off by that question either and merely chuckled. “Oh, most of my life at this point. I wasn’t that old when I fought in the Pits to prove my worth and gain the interest of the court—and succeeded! Master Shockwave chose me over all the others.”

He sounded… Proud. Really proud, but Sideswipe couldn’t get past the feeling that this didn’t quite compute.

Fought? Gain interest? Chose, like that was a… A good thing?

Sunstreaker recovered from their shock slightly faster, at least partway—enough to ask an entirely incredulous, “You… Wanted to become a mate?”

Chromia nodded, still looking all kinds of self-satisfied. “It is an honor. Not everyone wants it, understandably, but– You’re not Kaonites, are you? Here, those that desire it are given the option to try to impress the court enough to be chosen. Lord Megatron has a pair too, ah, what were their names… Runamuck and Runabout? They were quite a sight when they fought; I’m not surprised Lord Megatron himself would choose them.”

Primus. That was a hell of a lot to digest after all the slag they’d gone through and seen and heard about and… Slag. And they sure as pit hadn’t known that about Runamuck and Runabout, but that was no surprise since they didn’t know that much about anyone. 

Sideswipe released a ventilation he hadn’t realized he was holding, leaning against the wall of the elevator. He felt a little woozy right there. This, the information that some came to this life willingly and even thought of it as a good thing, an honor as Chromia put it… It went against everything they felt. This was hell to them. There was nothing good about any of it.

And some fought to get to their garbage standing. 

But not everyone. “Why doesn’t everyone want it?” Sideswipe had to ask, not particularly fond of the way his voice was caught somewhere between a squeak and a wheeze, but at least his vocalizer worked. That was something.

“It’s a sacrifice,” Chromia shrugged. “You give up a lot of your freedoms and lay your future in the hands of another. It’s not a choice that should be made lightly.

“But many consider the tradeoff worth it. You get to be so close to our leaders, to serve Kaon in such a way, maybe make yourself more useful than you would’ve been otherwise. And obviously, the surroundings you’re given are very lavish and comfortable. There isn’t a hell of a lot to complain about, at the end of the day.”

Not a lot to complain about.

Right on the heels of admitting that even those that took the role willingly lost their freedom, as if Runamuck and Runabout weren’t enough proof of that. They had never suspected there was anything different about them, because they didn’t get treated any differently. They were as stuck in the harem wing as everyone else. They didn’t have magical rights to leave at will.

But… What? It was worth it because they got to be Megatron’s berth toys and ‘serve Kaon’ through their servitude to its sovereign leader?

If that was the logic, then the other set of twins was probably even more honored than Chromia. Chromia only belonged to the third most powerful mech, whereas Runamuck and Runabout belonged to the most powerful. 

It was so messed up.

Arguing probably wouldn’t have worked any better than it did with Megatron’s mates, though. If outlanders, those that had clearly come from outside of Kaon, bought into this bullshit, then how much more were natives going to do the same? They were raised here, into this culture of… What was it? Extreme nationalism or something? If it was drilled into them from the moment they were activated, how was Sideswipe going to change their mind in the duration of one elevator ride?

“How often do those fights take place?” Sunstreaker asked, his voice tight.

“Rarely, sadly. The court does try to keep the sizes of their harems manageable, and that won’t work if they’re hoarding new mates at every turn.”

And it looked like quite a few mecha were brought from outside for some reason. Why even do that if there were willing mecha within your own city?

He asked that much, and Chromia didn’t withhold that answer either. “In part it’s kindness, to rescue mecha from Unified Cybertron into the cultural freedom of Kaon. But maybe a bit more than that, it’s… How would I put it. A delicacy for the ruling class? They have a far wider range of frame types to choose from, and there is always allure to frames you might not find in Kaon at all, or at least not often.”

Kindness.

Delicacy.

So ultimately this whole thing was just because of the arrogance and egotism of Kaon’s ruling class. It wasn’t enough to take willing mecha from within their city’s walls, they wanted the exotic goods from elsewhere too—nevermind what those goods thought about. Living mecha with wills and sparks of their own, brought here to… To… 

Slag. Slag it all.

Maybe they were better off not knowing any of this. Blissful ignorance had kept them from realizing the full extent of Kaon’s depravity, but they were quickly falling down the rabbit hole of being horrifically informed of how Kaonites thought. It didn’t look a hell of a lot like it was only the court that thought this was somehow acceptable. Was the general populace of that opinion too? Did they think being a mate was such an honor that anyone who got brought here for it should be grateful and devote their damn lives to Kaon without question?

“How many harems are there?” Sunstreaker asked while Sideswipe was still busy trying to sort his thoughts into any kind of a functional order with very little success.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever actually counted,” Chromia mused, then began to tick mecha off with his digits without actually saying anything before he’d apparently counted them all. “Nine or ten, if I remember everyone? Lord Soundwave should have one too, but he’s never taken any mates himself, for whatever reason.”

“Is that why Megatron shares… Us? With him?”

“Possibly. I won’t pretend to know their reasoning, but Lord Megatron and Lord Soundwave are good friends.”

So apparently they could build friendships too. That was almost surprising.  

“How big are the harems?” Sunstreaker, again.

“Usually around ten members, and I think there’s at least one that is over twenty mates strong. Lord Megatron’s is undoubtedly the largest, though, as is fitting for a mech of his standing.”

Several times the size of his subordinates’ harems, in other words. What greed.

The elevator stopped, effectively cutting their bit of interrogation short. Chromia, still, didn’t look at all perturbed by all of their questions, just gestured them along when the doors opened to a hallway that didn’t look that different from any of the other hallways they’d seen. They took a couple of turns until they came to double doors similar to what led to the wings located on the harem’s floor. There were guards here too, like there were everywhere, but the doors opened on Chromias approach and in they went.

At first it didn’t look so different and he wondered just where Shockwave was going to do their testing, but then they went through another set of doors, and suddenly there were hallways and doors all over the place leading to who knew where. Maybe just rooms, maybe other, closed off hallways. They took two ramps down, then through big doors, again, and he was getting kind of lost already.

But Chromia walked ahead of them with confidence, so they followed and tried not to worry about it too much. 

More smaller doors and corridors, up until they stopped in front of one specific door that, to Sideswipe, didn’t look any different from all the others. Chromia pinged for entrance, and with minimal delay the door slid out of their way. They followed the blue mech into the room, although they didn’t follow in the short bow Chromia gave to… Shockwave.

Shockwave was looking at them. “Here they are, master,” Chromia said.

The apparent scientist only responded with, “Dismissed,” and at once their guide took his leave. The door closed behind him, and there they were. In a room. With the very creepy Shockwave. The door probably wouldn’t open for them even if they tried to get out.

“First Aid,” Shockwave called without actually raising his voice, and a mech they hadn’t noticed set something down on the other side of the room before scurrying over. They could just catch a glimpse of a brand on his shoulder. Another of Shockwave’s mates, then, which… Was a little weird. Were they working together?

“Yes, master?” First Aid asked once he got closer, and pits but it grated to hear the title at every turn. They were clearly too used to the casual air in Megatron’s harem, at least when the tyrant wasn’t present. Even Megatron’s mates spoke in a more respectful manner around him. Yes, my Lord; of course, master—the works.

It didn’t look to be so different with Shockwave, in that aspect.

“Get them ready,” was the instruction Shockwave said before he turned away. First Aid voiced his understanding, then waved the twins forward.

To the center of the room, where there were two berths, currently pushed together to form one larger slab. The lights in the ceiling above it were too bright for comfort, and Sideswipe couldn’t even begin to name the contraptions that circled around the lights, ready to be pulled down for use. “If you’d lay down and open your chestplates, please,” First Aid requested once they got next to the berths.

Righty! Apparently there was going to be no warmup whatsoever. “Not even a single date first?” Sideswipe said, and it was such a weak joke and his obvious nervousness only made it weaker, but First Aid nevertheless snorted before quickly smoothing his field. Sideswipe could imagine the same happened to his face, if he had one, but once again there was both a mask and a visor in use. It was impossible to tell what was behind them. 

Sunstreaker reached to squeeze his arm before his brother hopped onto one of the berths. Sideswipe followed, and only after they were both sitting on their respective berths did they lay down fully.

“Open your chestplates and bare your sparks, please,” First Aid repeated when they didn’t do that right away. Sunstreaker bit his denta together so hard his jaw ached and Sideswipe gnawed on his bottom lip until he was sure to leave marks–

But after a few more moments of hesitation, they both initiated the transformation in their chassis—their chestplates pushed apart, then their internals moved out of the way, and even more reluctantly their spark chambers pushed forward, until those too opened to let their sparklight through.

“Thank you,” was all First Aid said, looking back in Shockwave’s direction. They didn’t know what the scientist was doing, but fraggit, could he hurry up with it. It wasn’t exactly pleasant to lay around with their spark in plain view, even if there were only two other mecha present to see.

Two mecha too many.  

Luckily Shockwave didn’t take that long before he came over, pulling along a cart with more… Things on it. Probably some science thingies, but they wouldn’t know one whit about that sort of stuff. 

“Don’t close your chestplates,” Shockwave ordered them, and Sideswipe had just the time to worry why he saw fit to say that much–

And then Shockwave had already brought a fancy looking vernier right up to his spark, and by the pits his first instinct was to slam his chestplates right back shut alright. There wasn’t even a warning! Unless the order was the warning. It was a crappy warning if that was the case.

Instead of trying to close his chestplates, though, Sideswipe tried to sit up instead, not because he was really thinking clearly, but just because it wasn’t cool to have something so close to his spark–

But First Aid caught him by the shoulders before he could get anywhere and pressed him back down with surprising strength. 

“Stay still,” Shockwave said, staring at him with that one lonely optic. “You will be restrained if you don’t cooperate.”

...Right. Okay. So. Reminder. There was no saying no to any of this, and honestly he was getting pretty damn worried here–

But Sideswipe bit his lip harder and nodded his understanding even as Sunstreaker growled deep from his frame. 

Shockwave stared at him for a few more seconds before he repeated his original motion and… Brought the measuring tool to his spark. Then he tightened it until it was just on this side if uncomfortable, stopping only when Sideswipe hissed at the near pain.

But he got the diameter as far as Sideswipe could tell, and seemed satisfied with that. He left Sideswipe and his half of their spark alone and went to do the same to Sunstreaker, and Sunstreaker growled some more but didn’t put up a fight. There was exactly nothing they could do whether or not they were tied down, but they’d still rather have even the illusion of being able to protect themselves. 

Better behave, then.

Scanners came next, a whole assortment of them. Some worked from a distance, others were pushed right up to their spark, and it was a fight and a half to not try to stop the process at every turn. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t comfortable. Their instincts were screaming at them about protecting their core and lifeforce and they felt really damn naked keeping their sparks bared like that, but Shockwave undoubtedly had Megatron’s authority behind him.

And he would force them if they didn’t submit willingly.

So they tried. And succeeded, mostly, only earning themselves a couple of warnings when they jerked or flinched when they shouldn’t have. 

First Aid jacked into their medical ports on Shockwave’s order and took some more readings with their frames’ built-in scanners and diagnostics systems, and rooted around in general. He seemed to know what he was doing, at least, although Sideswipe worried over the amount of data he downloaded from each of them. The pit was he going to need all of that for? Or what was Shockwave going to need it for, rather?

They didn’t ask. Shockwave didn’t seem the chatty type. He sure as pit didn’t tell what he was doing or going to do any step of the way. It would’ve been really nice if he had, but they kept their silence the same Shockwave kept his.

Sunstreaker snarled even harder when Shockwave had taken an ungodly amount of readings out of them and then… “Merge.”

They really should’ve expected this too. And had, honestly.

Didn’t make them any more happy about it.

First Aid stayed connected to their ports and that didn’t help make things feel any less awkward, nor did the fact Shockwave had all of his scanners ready to record the whole damn process, but all the same Sunstreaker rolled over to be atop Sideswipe. He only barely even made it to straddling his thighs before their spark halves already surged from their chambers, meeting between their frames and merging in midair, as per usual—the scant few times they’d had the chance to do this.

The world imploded.

It was fucking heaven. He always forgot what it felt like, and then he wondered how could he ever forget. When the physical separation between their spark halves was removed, so was… Everything. It all stopped mattering, everything their frames had ever gone through—inconsequential.

All there was was the unity and the rightness of being together in the way they were supposed to be, but weren’t allowed to be, not even just temporarily—too risky, not safe enough, always someone who could hurt.

It was that thought that made them attach to the physical world a bit better, now. Sunstreaker’s frame had entirely collapsed on Sideswipe’s, all sense removed from their physical shackles for precious moments. It left their spark mostly protected, at the very least, out of sight aside from the light that bled from the gaps between their frames.

Sunstreaker lifted himself laboriously, just enough that he could look Sideswipe in the optic—rest their forehelms together. It didn’t matter that the circumstances of this were… Less than ideal.

What mattered was doing it. Fuck everyone else when they could have this. Their spark pulsed, whole, comfortable, full, swirling into itself and blending together until there was no end to him and no beginning to Sunstreaker.

They just were.

He just was.

Shockwave still didn’t say anything, but they could feel the intrigue in First Aid’s field. Split-sparks were rare, weren’t they? Mech had probably never seen this before. Had Shockwave either? They didn’t know. 

More scans, more diagnostics, more of everything, but it didn’t matter. They basked in being what they were supposed to be, and it didn’t matter. Maybe they were too compliant right then, too withdrawn, too careless, and maybe this was why they barely ever merged–

But in the moment, it was all the same as long as their spark was whole.

“Can you overload?” Shockwave asked after a while of observing them. They both shook their helms, not quite finding the will to speak—but it was a simple answer to a simple question, wasn’t?

Could they overload their spark like this?

No. Of course not, where would they have even found the energy for that from? Did the whole sparked walk around overloading all the damn time? No? Then neither would they.

First Aid logged and downloaded those thoughts, and those were some high level privileges he’d given himself in their systems.

They didn’t quite find it in themselves to care.

“Pull partway apart,” Shockwave ordered them next, and they did only because they knew nothing would come of it—that their halves wouldn’t part from that. Sunstreaker pushed himself up on his arms, but their spark remained merged, suspended in the halfway point between their chambers. Only tendrils connected it to either frame, once Sunstreaker lifted himself high enough.

Tendrils that weren’t enough life for their frames. Grey began to form at their extremities and creeped towards their core slowly. First Aid outright gasped in surprise—had they never seen that before, either?—but they weren’t dying, no matter what their frames thought. And really, what were their frames supposed to think when they could register the spark weakening? It was only their link to the spark, not the spark itself, but their bodies didn’t differentiate between those two.

Sideswipe grinned all of a sudden, full of mischief. “Watch this,” and he brought his servo between their spark and its connection to Sunstreaker’s chamber.

The tendrils were severed entirely and Sideswipe heaved his brother’s frame to the side before it could fall back over him—his brother’s frame that was, now, fully grey. Without a spark signature, or indeed, a spark.

Dead, for all intents and purposes.

First Aid’s field was full of a mix of shock, horror, and surprise, though he didn’t say anything and didn’t disconnect from them. Sideswipe giggled even as their spark sank into his chamber, larger than before and fitting in so snugly. He would’ve closed his chestplates out of reflex too, if Shockwave hadn’t chosen that moment to start poking around his core again.

This time… He was floating, a little bit, or so it felt like. Light. Right. 

He didn’t really care that Shockwave repeated the whole entire process he’d already put their spark halves through, but now with their spark fully merged. So many scans and physical measurements and who knew what else.

But he was floating. Happy.

When was the last time he’d been happy?

Shockwave did step back eventually and Sideswipe very lazily turned his helm to look at him. “How do you separate?” the scientist or whatever asked, and Sideswipe focused on his frame enough to remember all of its parts.

Stupid, stupid frame that usually acted as a physical barrier between himself and himself.  

Was he supposed to step back to that reality again?

He didn’t really want to.

...But some part of him reminded him it’d be best to follow the instructions they were given, and answer the questions. “Like… Oof. Like this,” Sideswipe managed to click, turning over and taking his turn to straddle his other frame. Grey frame. 

It wasn’t nearly as upsetting as it should’ve been. Why would he be upset? He was just about to resurrect it. Sideswipe sat on Sunstreaker’s thighs, leaned over him, and carefully brought his arms between their frames to pull his spark from his chassis, though not so far he would’ve had the whole nearing so-called death, going grey thing happen. 

Then he sank his claws into it, all of them—caged portions of it into each of his servos–

And began to pull it apart.

It put up a fight, it did every time, but with a bit of patience and care he managed to separate it into two clear portions that pulsed brightly, but were half the size they had been together. One he pushed back into his own chassis, the other he directed into Sunstreaker’s. It hesitated for a second or two before connecting to Sunstreaker frame with an audible crackle and snap, followed by a clang as Sunstreaker’s chestplates automatically closed around it without any conscious thought on his part. Sideswipe barely pulled his digits free in time. 

Color returned to his brother and Sideswipe smiled a satisfied smile even as the gape between them began to yawn again, larger, more uncomfortable by the second.

Not right.

But it was how they lived. One spark in two places at once, directing two separate frames. That was all.

“Move aside, Sideswipe. Sunstreaker, bare your spark,” Shockwave ordered them both once Sunstreaker’s optics had lit up with clarity. Unease was weaving into them and quickly so, but Sideswipe still felt a bit languid when he rolled off of Sunstreaker and back onto the other berth. Sunstreaker was reluctant, but opened his chest back up—not that he even remembered closing it.

And again there was the whole hullabaloo of taking all the readings. That was getting old and tiresome fast, but Sideswipe feared they’d have to bear similar boredom several times still, before Shockwave was through with them.

They laid around all the same, trying to pass the time mostly by focusing on what First Aid was doing in their helms. Unfortunately it wasn’t anything he wouldn’t have already done though, either.

Shockwave only spoke up once he was done and set all of his instruments aside. “How do you know which half belongs to which frame?”

That was… A question. “We… Don’t?” Sideswipe ventured, but it was Sunstreaker who provided the more informative answer.

“Our spark’s one and the same no matter what. It’s the frames that call forth different aspects of it—personalities, if you want to call them that.”

Shockwave seemed to think on it for a moment, then nodded. “Close your chestplates. First Aid, show them to their quarters. Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Lancer will interview you later.”

First Aid disconnected from them and handed Shockwave something, probably all the stuff he’d downloaded, before the scientist left entirely. Off to do some sciency stuff with all the sciency stuff he’d managed to pull from them, maybe? Or something.

They wanted to start splitting sparks, huh? That didn’t seem healthy. He had to wonder how many unfortunate test subjects that attempt was going to take.

...Best to not think about it too hard.

“Follow me, please,” First Aid requested once they’d both safely closed their chassis and gotten off the berths. 

So they did. There were more doors and hallways, although they didn’t go far this time before First Aid stopped at a door and opened it without going in himself. He gestured for them to do so instead. They did that too.

The room wasn’t big and it was impossibly spartan, but there was a berth big enough for the both of them, a desk with a chair, and some shelving that was entirely empty. 

And that was it. There was nothing else. 

They glanced back at First Aid when he spoke up. “For everyone’s safety, the door locks and you won’t be able to come out.” That… Wasn’t entirely surprising, although it also wasn’t particularly welcome. But what was the other option? Let them wander around? There was no way in pit anyone was going to allow that. “I’ll have Lancer bring you some entertainment once he comes to do your interview.”

“What kind of an interview is it?” Sideswipe asked before First Aid managed to close the door. It looked like he was in a bit of a hurry, but took the time to answer anyway.

“Just a questionnaire to chart… Well, everything possible about your spark condition and how it affects you. Being as thorough as you can is the most helpful.

“Lancer should be by soon. We’ll probably see later, so…” Without a proper goodbye and a bit awkwardly, First Aid closed the door. They could hear it lock, too, as he’d promised. 

And then they were alone.

The silence of the room was only broken by the sounds of their frames, and that was… Was the last time they’d had that when Megatron had separated them, taken turns leaving each of them alone in his quarters to break them?

Those times they hadn’t even had each other. This was different. They were alone in the right way, now, but that was… Weird as all pit, after spending so much time in the harem. There were always others there. Even the library wasn’t real solitude. There were sounds made by the others, their fields, energy signatures, everything their senses would constantly pick up and keep them aware of, even when they were consciously ignoring it all.

Now?

None of that.

It was just them, their one and same spark signature, the energy signatures and the functioning, lowkey whirr, hiss, rumble and whine of each of their frames, sounds changing with every motion they made, every shift of weight. But all of that was so infinitely familiar. Predictable. They knew each other inside and out—their spark, and their frames. So… It was nowhere near the same as being surrounded by the others in the harem. 

They weren’t really sure what to make of it. The kind of extreme quiet they were experiencing now they’d only experienced in Megatron’s quarters before this, and if that wasn’t a lovely way to surface some memories they weren’t particularly fond of. In the streets, even during the quietest night, you could hear distant traffic, the hum and clang of the city living around you, its systems making sounds the same any frame did. It was an eternal background noise you could never escape without four walls around you.

Right now? There were four walls around them, and they were who knew how deep into the tower, and here there wasn’t the sounds of the towers’ functions. That was probably deliberate.

They were perfectly isolated in the bright room, locked in so they couldn’t have left even if they’d wanted to, and… They sort of wanted to. There was something infinitely disquieting about the space, its almost clinical emptiness and… Lifelessness.  

Sideswipe sat down on the berth even as Sunstreaker frowned and crossed his arms, glaring at the tiny room at large. They couldn’t help but draw more comparisons to the harem wing. Say what you will about it, but it was alive, and not just because of its occupants. There was actual color, and lights placed so that they cast real shadows even as they lit anything that needed to be lit, and never leaving things so dark it would’ve been unwelcoming. There were the scents—of oil and repairs in Knock Out’s medbay, clean as the room was; the electric scent of the book files in the library, sharp and piquing; the mingling of energon and additives in the dining hall, perfect to rouse one’s appetite; solvent and so many scented products in the washracks…

And the entertainment room and berthroom, with the smells that permeated every other part of the wing too. Lubricant, transfluid, overloads. Interface. It was everywhere in the harem, for obvious reasons.

And despite that, he would’ve rather been there. There was something homey about the lush colors and intimate feel of the harem wing.

This? Despite the light colors and offensive brightness, he was mostly reminded of Megatron’s wing. Megatron’s wing had more furniture than this, but it still felt nearly as empty because of its color scheme and lack of any sort of decorations whatsoever, anywhere. 

Being reminded of Megatron’s living space wasn’t exactly welcome, either.

Here they were though, all the same. And why?

Because Megatron controlled every aspect of their life. 

Sideswipe gushed a sigh from his vents and fell onto his back on the berth. Sunstreaker finally moved to sit down next to him. 

Then there was more quiet and growing discomfort. Not physical, despite the amount of prodding and poking their spark had endured, but… Mental. Emotional.

But they could probably expect to be interrupted by their interview pretty soon. It wasn’t the best chance to try to chill out. And there might be cameras, too. That wouldn’t have surprised him.

...You know, he’d never wondered if there were some in the harem wing. It didn’t feel like a space where there would’ve been some, but maybe there were anyway.

“Wonder who Lancer is,” Sideswipe mused, just to break the silence even a little bit.

Sunstreaker, ever the best conversation partner, grunted.

“Think he’s another of Shockwave’s mates? ‘Cause First Aid was, but he was still, like… Being an assistant to Shockwave or something? In all sciency stuff?” That was weird. Really weird, when all they’d known was Megatron’s harem. Megatron only wanted interfacing out of them. Entertainment.

Were things so different for Shockwave’s harem, or what was going on? 

“We should ask, if we get the chance,” Sideswipe concluded. Theorizing with the very limited amount of information they had was hard as pit, and it would be nicer to get actual answers, anyway. Maybe Lancer would be willing to answer some questions, on top of making them answer questions?

Probably a lot of questions.

Weren’t they just real winners.

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

Lancer was, indeed, another of Shockwave’s mates. He was chipper, but efficient, asking all the questions and recording all the answers, prompting them with more questions that didn’t seem to be on his list if their answers weren’t in depth enough. He charted everything from their experience of their activation to medical history and every last detail they could think of over how being split-spark had affected their life, positively or negatively. He didn’t overtly react to anything they said, either, but remained perfectly professional. Which was nice. It kept things from getting so awkward, despite all the stuff they told—right down to how being so connected made them react to all the rape and abuse they’d endured here.

Of course, they were careful to not state or even suggest they were still very much plotting how to leave the whole place, even as they were frank enough about their dislike over the treatment they’d endured.

“Thank you so much! This will help us a lot,” Lancer said with satisfaction once it looked like he’d bombed them with all the questions he was going to. Sideswipe already opened his mouth with questions of his own, but snapped it back shut when Lancer continued, “Oh! Before I forget…”

He subspaced the datapad he had been using, made the twins a bit envious of his ability to actually access his subspace, then proceeded to pull out other datapads that he set on the desk.

Quite a few datapads, in fact—a whole pile by the end of it. “I grabbed some movies, book files, music, and a few games and podcasts for you! I wasn’t sure what you’d like, but hopefully there’s enough variety that you’ll find at least something to your liking.”

Sideswipe blinked, but Sunstreaker remembered their manners. “Thank you.”

“It’s no bother—you’ll have to stay here a few days anyway. Need to pass the time somehow, right?” He turned to leave, but a noise for his attention from Sideswipe had him halting and looking back at them.

Sideswipe spoke quickly, before the opportunity passed them. “Could we ask a few questions?”

Lancer looked a little surprised, but then smiled with a small laugh. “Well, I did just get from questioning you real good. I think it’s fair to repay that. Okay, what would you like to know?”

Okay, wow, they actually got the chance and Lancer seemed very open to questions too. That was a little unexpected, but Sideswipe gathered his thoughts quickly. “Alright, so… You’re in Shockwave’s harem too, right?” he asked first, and continued after Lancer nodded a simple confirmation, “And so’s First Aid? But First Aid was assisting Shockwave when he was taking all sorts of readings and whatnot off of us. Is that… Normal? For the harems? For Shockwave’s harem?”

“Not really normal for the harems, no,” Lancer answered and sat back down on the desk’s chair. “But it’s normal for us—Master Shockwave’s harem, I mean. Most of us have the know-how to help him in his projects, and he makes use of that.”

Lancer really seemed as forward as Chromia. That was… Nice. As far as getting their questions answered went, anyway. “How do you have the know-how? Has he taught you?”

“He continuously teaches us, yeah, but only really those who already had a background in the sciences or medicine—so, again, most of us. Really only Chromia doesn’t.”

“...What does Chromia do, if not that? Why does Shockwave have him?”

“Chromia is kind of… Our Starscream. Starscream takes care of Lord Megatron’s harem, right? Chromia does that here. Enforces Master Shockwave’s rules and orders, makes sure everyone has what they need, runs around doing Master Shockwave’s bidding when the rest of us are busy.” Lancer laughed there. Sideswipe cracked a smile, just to hide his… Confusion? No, not really confusion. There wasn’t that much to be confused over Shockwave having someone who filled Starscream’s role in his own harem.

Disturbance, rather. They knew what Starscream was like, how… Thoroughly he devoted himself to Megatron.

And Chromia did the same with Shockwave? Even when the other mates didn’t necessarily want to cooperate otherwise? 

Like that?

But Lancer didn’t seem bitter over it, or like he thought it was a bad thing. 

“How come most of you have the kind of backgrounds Shockwave makes use of?”

“We’re not from Kaon, but we were brought here specifically because of our skills. Master Shockwave has enough rank that aside from Lords Megatron and Soundwave, he can pick anyone he wants, and… He wants those with the skills. Lord Megatron has no use for our skill sets, so I don’t know anyone from his harem who could fill our roles.”

Yeah, Megatron really had no use for that kind of stuff, did he? You didn’t need to be a scientist to learn how to suck a spike.

“Doesn’t he work with anyone science type who isn’t from his harem?”

“Oh, he does. Flatline works here full-time, as does Perceptor—and Mixmaster, Hook, and some others occasionally collaborate with him on something. But Master Shockwave finds it… More agreeable, to work with his own harem.”

“...Why?” Sideswipe asked suspiciously, although he thought he might already know the answer.

Lancer shrugged. “We belong to him, and we serve him. He ranks higher than anyone else he works with, of course, and they obey his orders too, but that’s still not the same.”

He was more equal with other free mecha, wasn’t he? Sideswipe suspected they could say no to him, rank or not.

His harem, though? Probably had no such right. Megatron’s sure didn’t, and he didn’t think Shockwave’s was that dissimilar despite his use of his mates as his assistants.

Lancer didn’t say that much, but wasn’t it sort of written between the lines, anyway?

Sideswipe did no more than nod at that.

“Was there anything else?” Lancer asked after neither of the brothers said anything for a moment. Sideswipe gave it an actual thought, but…

“Not right now, ‘least.”

“Cool. If something comes up, ask one of us, we’ll be happy to help.” With that, a smile, and a wave, Lancer took his leave.

The door locked after him. Again. Naturally. Of course.

They both sighed in the silence that was left behind, but Sideswipe plucked the topmost datapad off the pile and turned it on to see what it contained. Sunstreaker did the same with another ‘pad, and… Well. They better get good at passing the time like this, probably.

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

The room had no windows, or clocks of any sort for that matter. If their chronometers hadn’t counted the day, they would’ve never known what time it was. They recharged during what would’ve been the quiet hours in the harem wing, and when no one came to interrupt them right away in the morning… Lazed around a bit. 

Hopefully whoever might come to take them for more tests would at least knock or ping first, instead of just barging in. And energon. They’d prefer fuel at some point, as much as it wasn’t strictly necessary. Yet. They probably, hopefully wouldn’t be here long enough for that to matter, but if they were hanging around for a full orn, they’d definitely have the time to get a bit uncomfortable from hunger.

They didn’t worry about that too much right in the moment, though. Sideswipe had draped himself along the full length of Sunstreaker’s side, his brother’s arm around him, tracing patterns on his armor.

Sideswipe did the same to Sunstreaker, dragging his claws along seams he knew were a bit on the sensitive side, and grinning every time he was a little too good at it and made the golden twin squirm. Sunstreaker didn’t tell him to knock it off though, or hadn’t so far.

He might at some point.

But for now he was too… Thoughtful, to really bother. And Sideswipe knew those thought tracks just as well. 

They merged so rarely. For obvious reasons, or… What had been obvious reasons. For Primus’ sake, they were guttermechs. They didn’t just have an apartment of their own that they could lock the door of and do what they willed. The best they could do was rent a room someone else would always have access to, too. 

Where were they supposed to merge? Nowhere, that’s where. 

So… They didn’t. Hadn’t. They had risked it… What, a grand total of three times in their lives, since emerging from the Well to get discarded in no time at all?

They weren’t old, but even for a short life that… Wasn’t very many merges. It wasn’t a necessity so it didn’t really matter, but pits it felt good. It was probably some sort of sucky coping mechanism to forget about the feeling after every time, because what would they have done otherwise except spend every moment of their life wishing they could do it again?

They’d done it now, and they hadn’t forgotten about it, not yet. It populated their thoughts, the… Feeling of it. 

Would they get used to it if they did it more often? Seemed likely. The whole sparked walked around the way they did all the time and nothing happened to them, but to him and Sunstreaker… It was so novel. It felt so good, was so right, fixed every problem they’d ever had, or so it felt like. It was how they were supposed to be, but how they weren’t despite it all. Was it any wonder knocking all the wrongness out of their life with just one act would be such a drastic difference that it would muddle their thoughts more than a little? That they’d want to just enjoy it, forever and ever?

Like the whole sparked got to do all the time. They took it for granted, didn’t even think about how else it could be.

Well, the twins knew how else they could be. They couldn’t take it for granted, because it wasn’t their usual state of being.

What kept them from occupying only a single frame, from being just one, in one? Was it just a habit? ‘Because that’s how it’s always been’?

Or was it an… Advantage? It never felt right, but it didn’t cripple them either. They could experience life at twice the pace everyone else could, because they were in two. Wasn’t that a good thing?

And the tradeoff was just to feel wrong on such a deep, inescapable level. 

That wasn’t so bad, was it? There were hardly any downsides… That they knew of. They had to admit they didn’t understand their spark very well. They took it at face value, but why did it do the things it did? Why could they be split, when trying to split a normal spark would only result in death? Ask anyone who had ever gotten stabbed in the spark. It didn’t tend to work out so well.

And when they pulled apart, why did their spark exchange its energy perfectly between its halves, neither bigger than the other when they separated? How the pit did it know to do that when there was no… Rift between them, when they were merged? It was just one whole spark with the ability to split for whatever reason, but the re-splitting was always a pretty crude process and still it always worked out.

That wasn’t even getting into their exchange of emotion and thought—or “thought”, rather. Emotion came through raw and unfiltered, but it was never words, never sounds, never perfect images that their spark was made of. Just… A mess. Shapes, textures, color, but they all came together to mean something, if you knew how to interpret it. Put it together. Translate it into something the frame could understand. Their spark was never confused by itself.

It was just the frame that didn’t always keep up with everything. 

They were pretty good at that, and they could also do the most important: segregate. Synchronization came naturally to them, but what they needed to do to function was to… Split their thoughts as their spark was split: one set of thoughts for the frame that was Sideswipe, another for the one that was Sunstreaker. They needed to function separately, steer their frames separately, divide themselves, sometimes to the point they became near senseless to one another–

And that went against their very being, but they had to do it. It was a skill. It had taken practice.

They didn’t usually think about any of this, honestly. It wasn’t important, it wasn’t relevant. What mattered was that they made it work.

But after trying to describe the whole mess to Lancer in as much detail and with as little confusion as they could manage, it was hard to not consider it all—wonder if it mattered anyway. They had no idea.

All they knew was that merging was… Better than any drug in the world, and they’d tried quite a few out of curiosity. 

And they weren’t on the streets anymore. They were never really alone either, aside from right now, but the other mates weren’t exactly… Threats? Were they? They had never actively tried to hurt them.

Could they even consider doing it again sometime, while they were still here? Because they’d be right back to the streets after they got out, and then they’d again be without the chances to do it.

So many thoughts. They should probably stop before their processors started steaming. Sunstreaker glanced at him at that, cocking one of his optical ridges at him and– Primus, he was just pretty. Beautiful. From helm to pede, their commissioners had done at least that right and given him all the looks in the world.

His optical ridges too. Their arch was just… Elegant, and Sideswipe knew that came without trying. 

Sunstreaker’s amusement turned into an outright, huffed laugh when he stared for too long.

Frag it.

Sideswipe lifted himself, just enough that he could silence it by pressing their mouths together—no grace, just want. Sunstreaker returned the kiss with quite a bit more thought behind it, and Sideswipe happily let him take the lead, melting a bit further against that lovely frame.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, you know,” Sunstreaker muttered against his mouth. Sideswipe could feel his grin.

It was his turn to laugh, just a little. “I know.” They were quite a pair, weren’t they? 

At least this much Megatron would never take from them—their self-centered love, devotion. There was no tarnishing it, even if he took everything else. 

They enjoyed each other for a time, cuddling and making out, lazy and without rush. Not that they couldn’t have done this in the harem, but there was always so much going on there, and that wasn’t even going into the fact there was no real privacy to be found anywhere in the harem wing.

Chances were they’d still have the time to get hella bored here even with the entertainment they were provided, but for now they were going to enjoy it.

They did the entire morning. Only a ping at the door interrupted them when it was starting to tip into the day proper. They untangled themselves at the interruption, and were sitting side by side on the berth by the time the door opened after a polite delay. 

First Aid stood on the other side, two cubes held in his servos. “Hope you slept well and have gotten the time to pass. Did Lancer– Oh, I see he did.” He was probably referring to all the datapads; at least those were what he was looking at. 

“He brought us stuff, yeah,” Sideswipe confirmed with a wry grin. First Aid’s field flared with something akin to a smile. He moved into the room just enough to place the cubes on the desk before returning to the doorframe.

It looked like he was going to leave, too, but Sideswipe interrupted that process with a, “Hey.” First Aid looked at him in askance, and out of the mates they’d met he seemed the least inclined to start answering any amount of questions, so Sideswipe kept it short. “When will there be more… Tests?”

“Probably not today. Tomorrow at earliest, I think,” First Aid answered, and… That was kind of surprising? But he also explained the reason for it quickly enough. “There’s a lot of data Master Shockwave wants to comb through before he does anything else. Your spark is very unusual.”

Well. At least they were entertaining some scientist with their existence. Could be worse?

Sideswipe nodded and when they asked nothing else, First Aid bid them goodbye and left. They took the cubes they’d been brought and went to enjoy them. It wasn’t anything fancy, just basic midgrade, but that didn’t make it any less delicious.

And it looked like they wouldn’t have to worry about hunger, at least.

As First Aid had guessed, nothing happened for the rest of the day. Sunstreaker went through the datapads for things to read or listen to, Sideswipe grabbed the couple of them with games on them. They were the same games as in the harem, but he had his saves in his own systems, so it wasn’t a big thing to plug into the datapad and continue playing where he’d left off back there. 

It wasn’t the most interesting day ever. The harem was… A prison. There was no getting around the fact there wasn’t really anything physical to do, aside from ‘facing. And oh boy did the other mates ‘face a lot. Sideswipe had to wonder if some of that was just to try to make up for the lack of any other exerting activities, on top of being prompted by the protocols corrupted by the infernal transmission. 

He and Sunstreaker had put up with it so far because, you know, they didn’t exactly have any other option. They couldn’t just leave to go on drives or whatever. It worked in their favor that they had never had the ability to be as active as they would’ve liked. For the duration of their life, up until coming here, conserving energon had been a necessity. Technically they could have done whatever they wanted to, driven as far as they’d liked to–

But the practice was quite different. 

Now they would’ve had the energy, but not the freedom. That sure got flipped around a bit. 

But so there weren’t any past habits of long drives that they would’ve missed, for as many things there were that they did miss.

And some came here willingly? 

Frag.

Yeah, no, he wasn’t going to get over that anytime soon, especially after what he’d seen at the dinner—though to be fair he didn’t think he’d get over any of the shit that happened here anytime soon. But there was… Something. Their first time here, their whole initiation? Had been awful in so many ways.

But it was just that one time. They’d had some shit thrown at them since then too, mildly put, but they hadn’t gotten gang raped with that level of brutality since.

And the public servants? It looked a lot like brutal gang rape was their entire existence. He didn’t know where they lived, or were stored, what their downtime was like, but slag… He couldn’t imagine there was anything to want in that life. They looked to be halfway to the scrapyard already, on the inside. If he had to make a guess, they probably wished they could’ve gone the rest of the way.

He thought he would’ve, in their place. All the things Megatron had done to them and had made others do to them… It wasn’t those levels of bad. Maybe there was an instance here or there that compared, but it wasn’t continuous. That made the difference. 

Instances like Sunstreaker’s little outburst. Megatron knew how to damage a frame. Getting just beaten would’ve been one thing. Unpleasant and it would’ve hurt too, but it was so outlandish to mutilate a frame with nothing but a spike. Who else could do that but Megatron?

It was just… A more intimate sort of way to punish someone—taking something that was usually done for fun and affection, and using it as a weapon instead.

Violent.

Sunstreaker hardly even ached anymore. The physical signs of the whole incident were all but gone, even at the places where Knock Out hadn’t replaced the parts, only fixed them instead. 

But on the inside? His brother was tough, but Megatron was an enemy like nothing they’d faced before. Time and time again they could not win, not even in a small way, and if they stepped out of line… They were returned to it with devastating certainty.

Would Sunstreaker throw a drink at someone again? Was it worth it?

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

It was near the midday of the next day that there was a ping at their door again. Sideswipe paused and saved his game and Sunstreaker set down the bookfile he’d been perusing, seconds before the door opened to reveal Lancer.

He smiled and waved. “Master Shockwave has some more tests he’d like to run. If you’d come with me.”

Of course there was nothing about were they fine with this, or if they agreed to having more tests done on them.

They weren’t and they wouldn’t have, but you know.

They placed their datapads on the desk before following Lancer out of their temporary quarters and back into the same room from before, with its berths and contraptions. “Dismissed,” Shockwave said to Lancer once they were safely deposited in the room, and so he left.

Leaving them with Shockwave and… There was another mech present too. Red, but even searching, they couldn’t see a brand on him. 

He didn’t look like Kaonite though, not one bit. 

“On the berth,” Shockwave ordered them and they walked a couple of steps ahead of him to do so. Whatever cart the scientist had with him had more things on it, some that they could recognize from last time.

Was this going to be as boring?

Would they get to merge again?

“Perceptor.” With just one word from Shockwave, the red mech came over, although there wasn’t the same… Haste in his motions, as Shockwave’s mates had when they hurried to follow his orders.

There was something different about him in general, although they couldn’t place it. He was nervous though. Not overtly so, but it was still in his field. 

“Yes, hello, we haven’t met yet. I’m Perceptor, and I’ll be assisting Shockw–”

“Lay down,” Shockwave entirely interrupted his colleague—were they colleagues?—to order him and Sunstreaker around instead. But at least this much had already happened, so despite their very extant reservations, they laid down.

“Bare your sparks,” was the next thing, and they did that too, reluctant or not. Shockwave pushed and pulled some of the things hanging from the ceiling around, bringing some lower. Sideswipe would’ve guessed it was a scanner of some sort that he positioned around Sunstreaker’s spark, his brother watching the process with so much distrust.

But if they didn’t cooperate, they’d be made to cooperate anyway, so. He’d still rather go unrestrained.

Perceptor did what First Aid had done and jacked into their medical ports to bring up their internal scans and spark readings. One educated guess, they were going to do something to their spark.

And they probably wouldn’t like it.

The scanner thingy was secured directly against Sunstreaker’s chestplates before Shockwave pulled a different device down and aimed that at Sideswipe’s spark-half. It spun just that much more wildly in its casing as his concern grew. It would’ve been great if Shockwave had even told them what he was doing, but of course he couldn’t be bothered with that much.

Perceptor probably noticed that thought with the privileges he’d granted himself in their systems, because he took that role instead. “We’re going to feed some dead energy into your spark to–”

He didn’t get further than that before Shockwave cut him off with a, “Stay still.”

“What do you mean dead energy–?!” Sideswipe tried to demand in full alarm, but he couldn’t get further than that before Shockwave activated the device directly above his half of their spark. It came to life to shoot pure electricity into his spark, or at least Sideswipe thought it might’ve been electricity, it sure was something–

But that wasn’t what he could focus on.

There was just the pain.

It burned and he could scarcely even hear his own scream as his very core lit up with agony, and pain of the frame was one thing–

But this was so much more than that. It was his very being that hurt, that cut straight into his emotions, the well of his thoughts, his life–

His back arched off the berth, and bringing his spark closer to the device didn’t help at all, but he didn’t know what to do, couldn’t do anything with the–

And then it ended.

Sort of.

Sideswipe collapsed back onto the berth when their respective devices powered down and were moved away from them both, sobbing—from relief, and from pain, because his spark wouldn’t stop hurting and feeling like it was going to tear itself into so many pieces until there’d be nothing but shreds left–

He was barely aware Sunstreaker was gasping, feeling all the same he was, that it tore at the both of them, their one–

“Merge.”

They focused enough to make sense of Shockwave. There was no inflection to the order.

Sideswipe shook his helm, crying. Their spark felt so raw and adding more energy into the play, even if it was just his own, was the last thing he wanted to do–

“Your spark is destabilizing. You’re dying. Merge,” Shockwave said, sounding absolutely uncaring as he stared at one of the screens that might’ve had their spark readings or something, Sideswipe didn’t know.

Perceptor’s field had flushed with very real anxiety and concern where Shockwave had none to give, but at least the unfeeling scientist’s words were enough to provide some… Motivation. Sideswipe looked to the side but Sunstreaker was staring resolutely at the lights above, trying to survive the agony in their lifeforce—and presumably doomed to fail at that, if they didn’t merge. 

So this was what dying felt like, huh? He could’ve gone without the experience.

But he didn’t want to die. There were still things to live for, and this was an out he didn’t want to take.

He rolled onto his front and heaved himself up, gritting his denta the whole way. It wasn’t his frame that hurt, his frame functioned perfectly, but the pain still threatened to cripple him. His spark throbbed so unevenly, its pulses and rotation stuttering in a way he had never experienced before. It distracted him from the physical world something fierce–

But they were probably on a bit of a timer. He had no idea how long it’d take for a spark to destabilize completely, and how long it would take their spark.

Would merging even fix it, or was Shockwave just grasping at straws? Who the fuck knew. It was sort of their only shot though, wasn’t it?

Sunstreaker reached an arm to help pull him over and Sideswipe barely waited until their chests were even half aligned before he collapsed over his twin. Their halves surged to meet each other before he was even all the way down, wove together, became one, seamless, and…

The pain receded.

They were both shaking, their vents barely functioning, but the tearing stopped. Sideswipe let his forehelm fall against Sunstreaker’s shoulder, feeling the ache in their spark even as things… Evened out. Calmed down.

And they, presumably, stopped dying so actively.

“The pit,” Sideswipe gasped, “was that?” He lifted his helm enough to glare at both Perceptor and Shockwave, as much as he expected Shockwave wouldn’t give a damn.

Perceptor looked apologetic, at least. “The energy approximates a spark merge without the risk of actually bonding two sparks and tests your spark’s response to it. Your reaction was entirely unexpected, I assure you; all sparks respond a little differently, but this?”

Right. So nearly killing them wasn’t the plan. That would’ve sort of gone against Megatron’s orders anyway.

Had to wonder how much trouble Shockwave would’ve been in if they had died.

“Pull back.” Was there no end to the orders? And what was this one for?

That. Shockwave was pulling the same zappy device towards them. Was he seriously trying to kill them?

“No!” Sideswipe said instantly, like any smart person with a sense of self-preservation would’ve, and flattened himself further across Sunstreaker. Sunstreaker was growling, hard, his glare beyond vicious.

“Pull back,” Shockwave repeated, still sounding so utterly indifferent. Like he didn’t really care about any of this, about their resistance or their potential death or… Pit, anything.

“Go frag yourself,” Sideswipe snarled.

Defiance. When had that ever worked?

They were locked in a bit of a staring contest before one of the doors into the room opened to admit Lancer and another of Shockwave’s mates they hadn’t seen before. All Shockwave did was nod at the twins, and at once the mates came over—but what for? They couldn’t possibly have strength on him and Sunstreaker, being smaller, slimmer. 

It turned out they didn’t need strength, just speed and deftness, and that they had in spades. “Hey–!” but true to form, no one listened to him. The nameless mate had reached and grabbed his arm before he knew it, and he didn’t have the time to even jerk away before one of his ports had gotten uncovered.

And suddenly Shockwave was there and plugged right in, and pits, his presence in his systems. Shockwave used direct overrides to access exactly what he wanted to access, no detours taken, and–

Severed Sideswipe’s motor controls.

All of them.

His frame immediately fell limp and Sunstreaker started cussing for the both of them, and that was where all of their cooperation ended.

It didn’t matter. Lancer and the other one were fast to grab each of Sunstreaker’s limbs and securely tie them to the berth, as if they’d done this plenty of times before, and once that was done… They, together, lifted Sideswipe’s strutless frame. Shockwave stepped over again and reached between them, doing what they’d done the other day—put his servo between their spark and Sideswipe’s frame, forcing it to disconnect and retreat into Sunstreaker’s chassis only.

Sideswipe’s grey frame was pushed aside, unnecessary.

Sunstreaker snarled and tested the bonds, but they looked to be designed to hold mecha far larger and stronger than him and he got exactly nowhere no matter how he struggled. Shockwave? Had no reactions to give to any of it. Neither did Lancer and the other mate. There was that focus in their fields again, like Chromia had had at the dinner, like… Pits, he didn’t know what to make of it. Were they so task-oriented? How? Why?

Perceptor though, he was different. He was alarmed.

“Get that thing away from me,” Sunstreaker growled when Shockwave unerringly brought the device towards him, clearly intent on trying the whole thing all over again. For what? Did he expect a different outcome, or did he just want to kill them? If merging had saved them, what were they supposed to do when they were already merged?

“Maybe we shouldn’t–” Perceptor tried to say, hovering over them, but once again, he didn’t get to finish.

“Record,” was all Shockwave said, staring directly at Perceptor.

“This isn’t–” Perceptor tried again.

Again Shockwave interrupted him. “Greenlight.”

The other mate, apparently named Greenlight, immediately stepped up, shooed Perceptor away and replaced Perceptor’s jack in Sunstreaker’s medical port with his own. Once he made sure everything relevant was in his reach and available, he nodded at Shockwave.

Impassive, Shockwave brought the device and a scanner to his spark no matter Sunstreaker’s vitriol, and… Activated it all over again.

Sunstreaker grunted when the energy again shot against their spark, and though he feared the worst… That didn’t come to pass. Oh, it wasn’t comfortable and his spark rebelled against the lifeless energy even as it couldn’t escape it–

But there wasn’t the agony. Just discomfort.

Nothing more.

And although Perceptor hadn’t seemed to entirely approve of the whole thing, he now breathed, “Fascinating,” earning a vicious glare from Sunstreaker. It entirely remained that he wasn’t agreeing to any of this, and even when it had looked like Perceptor might care about details like that, clearly his scientific curiosity was winning over. 

It was Sunstreaker’s turn to strongly disapprove. 

“Yeah, great, you didn’t nearly kill us this time,” he growled, venting a sigh of relief when Shockwave turned the zapper off and pushed it aside. 

“Indeed!” Perceptor said, apparently completely missing Sunstreaker’s sarcasm as he hurried over to one of the screens with some readings on it. Sunstreaker couldn’t understand them, but Perceptor sure looked excited. “Your spark’s negative reaction to dead energy when split… Has that ever been recorded before, Shockwave, do you know? But to get a near opposite reaction when you’re merged! I hypothesize that trying to merge with another spark separately would kill you, although we need to go over these readings to find out the reason why—but equally it looks like your spark’s reaction falls into perfectly normal ranges when merged–”

He prattled on further but Sunstreaker tuned that out, judging Shockwave to be a greater concern when the scientist brought more measuring devices of various sorts to their spark and took whatever readings. Many, many more readings. Lancer and Greenlight lingered too, following Shockwave’s instructions to the letter without hesitation even as Perceptor seemed fully distracted by the screens—and was he still ranting? Primus.

The rest had already happened, but when Shockwave took something small, small enough to fit into his spark chamber, and tried to insert it there, Sunstreaker rebelled.

Or tried to, very unsuccessfully seeing he was tied down and whatnot. “The pit is that?” he demanded, but no amount of tugging or squirming would discourage Shockwave.

At least he got an answer out of the mech, for once. “A monitor.”

Just not a very useful answer. Monitor for what?

When he asked this time, no one responded. The little thing was installed into his spark chamber, and then the same was done to Sideswipe’s frame on top having his motor controls reestablished.

Once that was done, they untied him. “Split,” Shockwave ordered him.

Sunstreaker snarled. “No.” Mostly for the sake of it, honestly; he wouldn’t have had anything against having his second frame functional right then.

“Split, or you will be split,” Shockwave said. An ultimatum, huh? So which would be rather have, doing the whole damn thing himself when he at least had some experience at it no matter how inelegant they made it–

Or have someone who had most likely never successfully split a spark do it for him?

Did he really want to have his spark prodded at even more? 

No, he’d rather avoid what he could. Sunstreaker glared, but nevertheless moved over to Sideswipe, straddling his brother’s frame and pulling their spark apart until he had one half to push into the grey frame, the other to keep to himself.

Sideswipe’s chestplates slammed shut before life properly returned to him, and when he onlined good and proper, it was with a growl. Not like he had forgotten what had happened.

Shockwave didn’t seem to care at all. “Lancer, return them to their quarters,” was all he said before he accepted their data from Greenlight and left.

Sideswipe wiped at the tear stains on his cheeks before they both got off the berth and, without a fight, followed Lancer. That… Hadn’t been so mighty pleasant. They’d gotten to merge, sure, but pits, they hadn’t wanted it to be because of something like that.

At least it sort of confirmed their theory that they could function pretty normally even when merged. They hadn’t gotten distracted this time like they had before, though hopefully it wouldn’t need to be just situations that registered as highly dangerous that would manage that. 

And they still had however many days of this?

Pits.

“What’s the monitors for?” Sideswipe asked once they were at their door.

“Your spark had a pretty extreme reaction to the fake merge,” Lancer answered as he opened the door and they went inside. “It seems to be fine now, but it’s better to keep an eye on it to make sure it doesn’t destabilize again.”

Was he sulking? Sideswipe was definitely sulking, and he didn’t even feel like trying to pretend otherwise. “Yeah, Megatron would probably be real unhappy if something happened to us,” he grumbled, plopping himself down onto the berth with more force than necessary. Sunstreaker sat down next to him. 

Primus forbid someone other than Megatron himself hurt them. He could rape and slag them all he wanted, but the moment someone else tried to do what he did? Lines drawn, big time.

Ugh.

“I imagine so, yeah,” Lancer agreed. “Try to unwind for now though, okay? That was pretty rough.”

With that he left and they were once again locked in their tiny ass room that was getting more claustrophobic by the hour. 

They sat in silence for a minute or two before Sideswipe broke the silence with a simple, “Wanna merge?”

Sunstreaker nodded, and merge they did—just to try to wash away even some of what had happened.

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

The next day, again, nothing happened, Shockwave presumably busy with all the data he’d gathered from them.

But every day after that, there was something. They didn’t cooperate half the time, anymore, not when some of the things got increasingly outlandish. Sometimes they were made to merge, other times held separate, many a time Shockwave separated them without even giving them the chance to do it themselves. There were sharp objects, blunt objects, samples taken, the limits of what their spark and its ability to split could withstand truly tested to the last.

More often than not, it hurt. Nothing compared to the whole incident with dead energy, but it still hurt. It wasn’t the last time Shockwave used the zappy thing on them, either, though he never again did so separately at full force—but he did feed smaller amounts of energy into their spark even when they were split, just to test how much they could withstand before their spark started to destabilize all over again.

It never got so bad as the first time, but that wasn’t much of a comfort. 

They had so many wires attached to them, too. To their chest, primarily, as Shockwave went about trying to uncover all of the secrets of their spark and recorded everything he could about everything he did. Their heads weren’t left alone either, usually one of the mates always keeping an eye on what their frames thought about what was done to their spark at any given moment. 

Oh, and all the times they didn’t agree to keep their chestplates open, only for Shockwave to then jam them open. Sometimes there was a see-through pane involved too, when he wanted to sort of protect their spark from the outside world while still being able to visually observe it.

Wasn’t that just so kind of him. 

None of it was pleasant and a few times they honestly feared he’d pushed too far and caused permanent damage, and… Slag, when they were left alone they spent more time merged than separate, now, trying to assure themselves they were fine, that their spark was fine despite everything Shockwave put it through. That was mostly true. Physically they didn’t think he was doing anything that they wouldn’t recover from.

But wasn’t the story always that physically they could recover from everything that was done to them here in the palace, in Kaon, but that matters were quite different as far as their damned emotions went. Sideswipe spent an increasing amount of time crying, not just from the physical pain that sometimes grew to truly uncomfortable extents, but also from the… Helplessness. As ever. If they fought, Shockwave would just have them restrained to whatever point was necessary for him to go through with everything he wanted to do to them without interruptions. 

They didn’t see Perceptor again, and they had to wonder if that was because their disagreement with what was happening grew more vehement and their lack of consent ever more obvious. Perceptor had seemed like the type to care about details like that, where Shockwave definitely didn’t, and where his mates followed his lead. 

They were just as powerless here as they ever were with Megatron. They couldn’t even say they were very surprised by that, but it still… Hurt. 

And no one gave a damn.

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

It was exactly a full orn later that Shockwave finished with another round of doing whatever to their damn spark. Sideswipe was panting hard, his vents wheezing as he tried to center himself after having his spark toyed with—what was it this time, testing how their spark reacted to separation from the frame. After having his half pulled out of chest who knew how many times, every time to the point his frame greyed out… Yeah, excuse him if he wasn’t feeling the greatest. 

Sunstreaker wasn’t much better off. He wasn’t even growling anymore, his optics tightly closed where Sideswipe was instead staring at the bright lights, letting them blind him.

Lancer moved to remove their restraints—that by now had severely worn off their paint from the affected areas—first the ones holding their spark chambers and chestplates open. The moment those were gone both of their chassis slammed back shut so fast it hurt.

But it was still an intense relief, despite the sting.

Neither of them got up right away after their limbs were freed, still reeling a little too badly. However, then Chromia entered the room, and what Shockwave said next was right the thing to bring some more life to them. “Return them to Lord Megatron’s harem.”

They both stilled from disbelief, just for a time before Sideswipe shot to sitting and Sunstreaker leveraged himself onto his elbows. They stared at Shockwave first, as much as the scientist’s back was turned to them, before their attention moved to Chromia.

“Yes, master,” the blue mech said with a small bow, then turned their way and requested their compliance. 

Normally that would’ve been about the point where they told everyone to go frag themselves, but… Was it over? Was this over? Could they go back to the relative safety of the harem and not have to worry about Shockwave anymore?

Pits, they wanted to. They’d wanted to for quite a while now, and with unparalleled eagerness they both jumped off the berths and followed Chromia out of the room—a little unsteadily at first, but they regained their bearings little by little as they went through the corridors and doors, past even more doors, until they’d left Shockwave’s… Area of the palace entirely. Or what they assumed was the portion of the palace that belonged to Shockwave exclusively. 

Things were silent for a time, but once they were closing in on the elevators and their relief increased with every step away from Shockwave they took, Sideswipe’s curiosity got the better of him. “What’s Perceptor’s deal?”

Chromia glanced at him, but answered as readily as he had before. “I assume you mean he doesn’t look too Kaonite? He isn’t. He was brought in because of his scientific proficiency, though I’m not privy to what about him exactly caught the Lords’ attention.”

‘Brought in’? “Did he come… Willingly?” Sideswipe asked carefully.

Chromia smiled at him. “With how protected we keep our city, not many outsiders understand the honor coming to Kaon is. They do with time, though.”

So… No, Perceptor most likely hadn’t come willingly. They had to wonder how close to ‘understanding what an honor it is’ Perceptor was. Shockwave didn’t exactly seem to treat him with a lot of respect, but just as much it hadn’t looked like Perceptor was actively unhappy with being there. He’d looked downright excited at places.

Had to wonder how long he’d been in Kaon and how he had acted when first arriving.

Sideswipe would’ve asked more about it if the elevator doors hadn’t opened to reveal it already had an occupant.

“Lord Onslaught,” Chromia bowed immediately, before he stepped into the elevator anyway, no hesitation.

The twins sure hesitated before Sunstreaker steeled their spark and stepped inside too, Sideswipe following a step behind him.

Then the doors closed and the elevator continued up, with them stuck in the relatively small space with the tank—whose amusement filled the elevator. It was probably their unease that he found entertaining.

“Have you recovered yet, Sunstreaker?” Onslaught asked without much fanfare. Of course, there was no real concern about him. He was just continuing what he’d done at the dinner.

Except this time Sunstreaker didn’t have anything to throw at him. 

Likely for the best, honestly.

Instead of attacking Onslaught with objects or liquids, Sunstreaker contented himself with just one hateful glare before he turned away to ignore him, intent on showing as much disrespect as he possibly could. If Motormaster’s case was anything to go by, Onslaught himself wouldn’t be able to do anything about him anyway. 

Onslaught chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes. Knock Out is quite good at what he does.”

Then, with a glance at their frames, their scuffed portions in particular, “I hear Shockwave got his hands on you, too.”

They stayed silent. He continued, “Spark splitting—now there is a useful ability. Imagine the applications. Doubling the amount of soldiers while granting the pairs a connection that surpasses that of bonded pairs, even bonded twins. Am I wrong? If Shockwave succeeds… My, you would have truly served Kaon, no doubt even earning yourselves a mention in the history books.

“Think of it. Thanks to you, no one could combat Kaon’s elite army. Unified Cybertron and its Prime could never threaten us again.”

Threaten them? When was the last time that had even happened? After Zeta’s failed conquest, how many times had Free Cybertron actually tried to take Kaon?

Obviously they’d failed even if they’d tried, but they honestly didn’t know if there had been smaller wars since the Unification. 

And still… Even speaking of such an advantage, Onslaught didn’t word things as if Kaon would have wanted to go on warpath against the rest of Cybertron. Were they really, honestly that content to just be left alone, or was Onslaught leaving things out?

“I really couldn’t care less about whatever benefits Kaon,” Sunstreaker couldn’t keep himself from growling despite his earlier intent to just ignore the damn mech, even as he still stubbornly didn’t look at Onslaught—whose field burst with amusement, while Chromia’s edged with… Disapproval?

Well, frag Chromia too.

“You should. You are Kaonite now, yourself,” Onslaught disagreed.

This time Sunstreaker glared as well as snarled at him. “Never.”

Onslaught chuckled again, although the sound was cut off when Sideswipe blurted a question before he could stop himself. “Do you uh, have a harem?” Change of topic, anyone?

“I do indeed,” the tank confirmed easily, apparently not taking offense from that either. “One that I share with my team.”

Team? “...How big is your team?”

“There’s five of us.”

Five mecha sharing one harem? He could only hope they had enough mates that… No one got overworked.

Oh, Primus.

Sideswipe swallowed, but still asked further. “Are you the leader?”

“Of my team, yes.”

He had to wonder how high Onslaught ranked overall, though it was probably… Pretty high, all things considered. 

“Cool,” Sideswipe said lamely and things lapsed back into silence until the elevator came to a stop—one floor below their final destination. 

Onslaught stepped out to a bow from Chromia. “Stay safe,” he drawled in parting before he set down the hall to destinations unknown. The elevator doors closed, they traveled up one more floor, and then they were back to the level of Megatron’s wing and his harem.

Chromia led them out and through the relatively short walk to the harem wing’s doors. Soundwave was standing outside, by all appearances waiting for them.

“Lord Soundwave.” Chromia bowed at him too.

“Dismissed,” was all Soundwave acknowledged that with as if he was a Shockwave copy or something, and Chromia bowed again before giving them a smile and then going right back the way they came.

Leaving them alone with Shockwave. Oh, and the two guards standing at the doors but decidedly not opening them, but the guards barely counted.

They didn’t need to wait for long for what Soundwave was here for. “Experiments went well?”

And… That was what he wanted to know? Sideswipe huffed. “I guess, aside from him nearly killing us. But we didn’t die all the way, so yaaaay.” No one would probably care that it all had sucked in so many other ways too.

Soundwave’s visor flashed, and that was about the most reaction they’d ever seen out of the mech. “Permanent damage?”

“Not as far as we know, no?”

“Why do you care?” Sunstreaker growled, glaring all proper where Sideswipe was mostly just miffed.

“Megatron concerned,” came Soundwave’s answer.

And that… Was a bit concerning in its own right. “...Were there that good chances Shockwave would’ve gone too far?” Sideswipe asked carefully.

The fact Soundwave didn’t say anything was probably answer enough.

So. Megatron had entirely and knowingly risked their life, just for the sake of knowledge. Which… Honestly, wasn’t surprising. They hadn’t expected they meant that much to the tyrant to begin with, and if the whole split-spark deal was as useful as everyone made it out to be, what kind of a tradeoff was it to possibly lose a couple of mates and gain an entire army? Megatron would’ve been dumb as hell to not take that risk, even if he’d have preferred them alive.

Sideswipe’s shoulders slumped. It made sense, but it still wasn’t a nice feeling that their life was valued to be that… Insignificant. Not worthless, really, because if Shockwave succeeded then it would’ve been worth it for the powers that be. A loss for the twins, but not really anyone else.

And who cared about the twins?

...He just wanted to be out of here. No one had given a damn about his life on the streets either, but at least there he’d been in charge of it.

Here no one gave a damn and he was completely at the mercy of another.

“Can we go?” Sideswipe asked, voice quiet as he glanced longingly at the harem’s closed doors. He didn’t see Soundwave’s nod, but Sunstreaker did–

And then the guards opened the doors. 

They didn’t hurry in, but it was a close thing.

( Next )