#making this a petition of everyone twice

[saphronethaleph]

Counting Noses

“This is an interesting document,” Palpatine said, looking up from it at Senator Amidala. “But you must understand… at this critical time in the war, to change the means by which it is being waged would be a terrible mistake.”

“I must understand no such thing, Chancellor,” Padme replied. “The argument for your emergency powers was that they were necessary to cut through the gridlock of Senatorial factions. No such gridlock now exists. The Grand Army of the Republic exists and has been winning victories. The powers you have are emergency powers, and it is no longer an emergency.”

Palpatine gave her an odd look. “I was kidnapped yesterday, Senator.”

“We are quite aware,” Bail Organa agreed. “However, a move like that is…”

“Similar to what I did, during the Naboo crisis,” Padme said. “A desperation move – and one that failed. The Confederation would not have launched an attack of that nature if they were confident in bringing about a successful conclusion to the war.”

She clasped her hands. “Chancellor – this is a request, out of friendship, that you give back your emergency powers before it becomes necessary to force the issue.”

“Are you threatening me?” Palpatine asked. “Senator, I realize that your past may have given you an exaggerated view of how easy it is to replace a Chancellor, but this is a time of crisis.”

“I think our views on the crisis are different to yours, Chancellor,” Mon Mothma stated.

“Chancellor, you don’t appear to remember one of the core principles of the Republic,” Sweitt Concorkill added. “That principle is democracy. You have been taking all kinds of actions based on a single vote from the start of the war, and you are refusing the clearly expressed will of the Senate.”

“What?” Palpatine snapped. “I am doing no such thing! You don’t speak for the Senate!”

“Read the title of the document,” Padme said. “None of us would have come here to make empty threats, Chancellor. We represent two thousand Senators who are of like minds on this matter.”

“That’s eighty percent of the Senate,” Mon Mothma provided, helpfully. “Indeed, this is the most unified that the Senate has ever been on anything.”

Palpatine scowled.

“I disagree with your assessment,” he said, shortly. “And you will not use weight of numbers to bully me into doing the wrong thing.”

“Isn’t that literally the definition of democracy?” Meena Tills asked, quietly.

“Well, that could have gone better,” Bail muttered, as they left the Supreme Chancellor’s office.

“I know,” Padme replied, already on her comlink. “Hey, Ani! Just to tell you, we met with the Chancellor…”

There was a pause, during which Bail Organa leaned in to Mon Mothma.

“You know it’s not quite eighty percent?” he asked. “Thirty-six columns, seventy-two rows, it’s actually seventy-seven percent. Seventy-three if you account for junior reps.”

“I was accounting for the Senators and Representatives who’ve left their positions during the war,” Mon replied. “It’s actually eighty point five if you do that. Does Padme really think she’s being subtle?”

“All I know indicates that she’s the subtle one of their relationship,” Bail shrugged. “Maybe she should have had some body doubles pretend to be in a relationship instead.”

Padme shook her head. “...yeah, he refused because he didn’t believe he should give up the powers, like the war might still go the wrong way,” she said. “Like you guys would just stop fighting if he lost emergency powers! It’s weird… yeah, I’ll probably have to no-confidence him�� I know, I know, but it’s the principle of the thing, he could get voted back in again but that would reset the emergency powers and that’s what actually matters… love you too!”

She turned the comlink off. “I intend to call a vote of no confidence in the next session tomorrow morning.”

“Wow,” Chi said, blinking. “Padme, do… do you understand that people can overhear com calls?”

“No, I’m not using speaker mode,” Padme replied, with a shrug.

“Just let it go,” Bail advised the Pantoran senator.

[queenshelby]

The Orphan (Part One)

Pairing: Dark! Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warning: Sub-Con, Pure Filth, Slow Burn Smut

Your name was Y/N, and you were just about to turn 18 when you left a rather strict catholic institution for orphaned children just outside of Birmingham.

You couldn't be happier about this turn of events and, with little luggage and big dreams, you set off for a better job and a new life.

Unlike most of the orphans who ended up on the streets around the time they reached adulthood, you were one of the lucky ones as you had been recruited to work as a maid for a wealthy businessman and politician, Thomas Shelby.

Thomas Shelby employed five maids at his house just outside Birmingham and whilst he had a terrible reputation of being a career criminal and gangster, everyone knew that he paid well, and employment was consistent.

Other than one maid names Frances, the women working for Mr Shelby and his wife Elizabeth were young, in their early twenties and you were the sixth and newest addition to the household, assisting with mundane tasks such as cleaning and cooking. 

There was something mysterious about the younger maids that you couldn't exactly put your finger on. That was until you celebrated your 18th birthday, which is when a maid named Kristy  leaned towards you and confided in you that your new master, Mr Shelby, had a penchant for young women.

You didn't want to believe it at first, but then, one late night whilst everyone else was asleep, you found yourself outside Mr Shelby's office, peaking through the crack in the open door.

"That's a good girl , open your mouth and take it all in," Mr Shelby's deep voice said, making you feel as if a lump was forming in your throat.

You recognized the young woman kneeling before him. It was Lily, a young, petite, and beautiful brunette who joined the household just two months after your arrival to assist with cooking, cleaning, and other odd jobs.

There she was, with her bright green eyes gazing up at Thomas, her mouth wide open and his shaft disappearing between her full lips.

Having grown up in a catholic orphanage, you had no idea what she was doing but, somehow, it felt wrong and disgusting, especially considering that Lily was only twenty and your employer was twice her age.

You took a step back from the office door and paused a moment, not knowing whether to leave or knock and interrupt.

You did neither, choosing instead to listen and watch with curiosity as Mr Shelby inserted his manhood deep into the young maid's mouth.

Lily seemed to have trouble taking it all but she did not object, and instead kept her eyes locked on Mr Shelby as if this was something normal.

Her head bobbed up and down as he thrust his hips into her face, the sound of his breaths growing heavier by the second.

You clenched your fists as you watched but, for some reason, you couldn't pull yourself away from the scene.

This was your first true introduction to the world of sex, and it filled you with simultaneous feelings of disgust and confusion.

As you were watching though, Kristy appeared by your side, startling you and causing you to stumble backwards, away from the door.

"You should know better than to eavesdrop on Mr. Shelby," Kristy said in a hushed tone, her fingers covering her lips.

You tried to reply but your voice was caught in your throat, a sinking feeling forming in your stomach as the maid pulled you away, back into your room.

You were confused by what you had witnessed, and even more so by the fact that Kristy didn't seem to be shocked by it.

"Is this normal for a maid having to do things like this?" you asked, as you stood at the door of your room.  You were still shocked and confused by what you had seen, and the more you thought about it, the more questions you had.

"It is if you want to keep your job here," Kristy replied with a shrug, leading you to a chair in the corner of your room.

"Does Mrs Shelby know about this?" you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to wrap your head around the situation.

"Of course she doesn't and we want to keep it that way ," Kristy replied with a serious look on her face. "Mr Shelby has certain needs and if we want to keep our jobs, we have to fulfill them."

You opened your mouth to speak but Kristy raised her hand to silence you.

"Do I have to do this kind of stuff? Like kiss him down there?"  you asked, still reeling from the idea that your employer was asking his maids to perform sexual acts on him.

Kristy nodded her head yes. "Eventually, yes!" 

You felt a chill run down your spine. "But why would anyone agree to this?"

"Because it pays well," Kristy replied with a sigh. "Now, Mr Shelby already said today that he wants to get to know you better now that you are of legal age, so you should expect him to come to your room in the next few nights," she continued, as if she was discussing the weather.

"But I don't want to do that," you protested, fearing that you sounded like a scared child.

"Well, then I suggest you look for a different job because Mr. Shelby won't take no for an answer," Kristy said firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument.

You felt your throat become dry, a knot of fear forming in your stomach.

"What if I refuse?" you asked, your voice little more than a whisper.

Kristy let out a long sigh. "Look, I get that this is all new to you and that you didn't sign up for this kind of work but, believe me, it's better than the alternatives. Out there, you would be at the mercy of the streets and the men in them. At least here, at Arrow House, you have a roof over your head, food on the table, and a steady income," Kristy explained, her voice softening a bit and, eventually, you nodded your head in agreement.

Kristy left you to contemplate your options, her parting words echoing in your mind as you looked around your small, but comfortable bedroom.

You'd been at Arrow House for about a month now and had grown accustomed to its luxurious interior, and the decadent furniture that accented its regal ambiance.

However, the promise of a steady income and a roof over your head didn't seem like such a good deal anymore.

The thought of having to submit to Mr. Shelby's sexual desires made you feel dirty and violated, and the fact that the other maids seemed to be okay with it only added to your confusion.

But what could you do? Running away from Arrow House and the shelter it provided wasn't an option, at least not yet. And besides, you didn't know if you would be able to find another job without references. With this in mind, you decided to try and make the best of a bad situation.

After all, things couldn't be that bad, right? You'd heard of worse situations from some of the girls back at the orphanage. At least here at Arrow House, you had a bed to sleep in and food to eat. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than nothing.

***

As the days passed, you found yourself slowly getting used to the idea of serving Mr. Shelby in more ways than one. You didn't like it, but you had no choice.

And it was on Saturday night when, at around midnight, Thomas Shelby knocked on your door and the thought of him 'getting to know you better 'as Kristy had explained made you shiver with nervousness and fear.

You nervously straightened your dress, took a deep breath, and opened the door to reveal Thomas in his perfectly tailored suit. His piercing blue eyes met yours and you felt a flutter in your chest.

"May I come in?" he asked, a small smile on his face.

"Of course, Mr Shelby," you replied softly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

He stepped into the dimly lit room, his large form dominating the small space. You swallowed hard as he closed the door behind him and turned to face you.

In the low light, his eyes seemed darker, more intense and for a moment, you wondered what you had gotten yourself into.

He took off his suit jacket, revealing a white shirt, a black vest and a gun holster, before sitting down on your bed and rolling up his sleeves.

"You look nervous," he observed, those intense eyes never leaving yours.

"I am," you admitted, trying to keep your voice steady.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. "There's no need to be. I won't hurt you. You have my word."

You swallowed hard again, nodding slowly. You knew that he was a man of his word, and that he would not hurt you intentionally.

He patted the empty space next to him on the bed.

"Come, sit with me," he said in a softer tone. 

You hesitated for a moment, before taking a deep breath and joining him on the bed. You sat down, keeping a safe distance between the two of you. He seemed to notice your discomfort, and he leaned back on his hands, giving you some space.

"So, tell me," he started, "Has Kristy explained to you why I am here, tonight?" he asked and you shrug your shoulders.

"She said that, now that I am 18, you wanted to get to know me better," you reply softly, looking down at your clasped hands.

"That's right," he said, a smile still playing on his lips. "I like to get to know all of my maids a little better and I usually spend some time with them after my wife retires for the night. You're a bit different from the other girls, though. I've been watching you, ever since you arrived here and, unlike the other maids, you, I believe, have no idea about how to please a man," he told you, his gaze intense.

"Now tell me, Sweetheart," he then began to caress your cheek, "have you ever done this before?" he asked.

You looked up at him, surprised. "Done what Mr Shelby?"

He chuckled. "Have you ever been fucked before?"  he asked, the question so sudden and so blunt that it left you speechless. 

"You mean when a man puts his thing inside, you know, down there ?" you asked hesitantly, pointing at your lower body. "Or what do you mean?" you were confused. 

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. "Yes, when a man puts his cock into a woman's hole, Love," he confirmed bluntly and you tried to remember if Kristy had ever told you about this. She must have, but your anxiety must have somehow blocked it out.

"No, I've never done that before," you replied softly, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

He raised an eyebrow. "But you're 18, right? And you've never been with a man before?"

You shook your head.

"I just turned 18, a week ago but the nuns at the orphanage said that doing things with men, even kissing and stuff, was a bad thing," you replied, avoiding his gaze.

You couldn't believe that you were having this conversation with your employer, and you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Embarrassment, fear, curiosity - it was all there, but one thing was clear, you did not want to have sex with him. There was no way.

You couldn't do this. You couldn't just lie there and let him do what he wanted with you. You couldn't betray your own body, your own values. Not like this.

Thomas seemed to notice your distress, as his confident demeanor faltered for a moment. "Ssh, I know this can be a lot to take in for someone your age but let me tell you something Love, having a man do certain things to you is not a sin, eh? I promise, you won't go to hell if you let me fuck you," Thomas chuckled.

"Now, how about we start slow, eh? I understand that this is all new to you, and I want you to feel comfortable with me before I do with you what I do with the other maids," Thomas explained in a soft tone, as if he were trying to soothe a frightened animal.

You nodded nervously , still unsure of what would come next. He gave you a reassuring smile and leaned in closer.

"Good," he said. "Now be a good little girl for me and take off your dress, Sweetheart. I want to see this perfect young body of yours."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you felt your cheeks burn even hotter. You swallowed hard, took a deep breath and stood up from the bed. Carefully, you undid the buttons running down the front of your dress and let it fall slowly to the floor.

You stood there in your white cotton underwear, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes taking in every inch of your body. You couldn't help but feel self-conscious and anxious, but you held your ground and looked back at him.

"Good girl," he said, a small smile playing on his lips. " Now, come back to the bed and lay down."

You hesitated for a moment, but then pulled yourself together, took another deep breath and slowly walked to the bed. You lay down on your back, trying to keep your breathing steady, as he sat down next to you.

Thomas looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. You could feel his gaze on your body, making you feel both self-conscious and fearful at the same time.

You couldn't help but wonder what was going through his mind as he looked at you. Was he imagining what it would be like to take your virginity, to make you his in every way possible?

You closed your eyes, trying to calm yourself, when you felt his hand on your leg, causing you to wince. 

"Sshh, it's okay ," Thomas whispered in your ear, gently pushing your hair out of your face. "I am just going to have a look at your little treasure now , all right?"

"No, please, don't," you whispered, as you tried to pull away from him. But his grip on your legs was too strong.

"You're trembling," he observed, running his thumb over the thin fabric of your underwear.

You were indeed shaking, but not from the cold or fear. It was the sensation that was building up inside you that was making you tremble. A sensation you had never felt before, not even with yourself.

"Please, Mr. Shelby," you whimpered, as the feeling grew stronger.

He seemed to understand your discomfort and eased off a little.

"It's alright, Love. I'm not going to hurt you," he repeated, but you couldn't shake off the feeling that he was lying to you, or that he didn't fully understand the depth of your unease.

Thomas then proceeded to explore your body, his fingers tracing the outline of your underwear, making you shiver with a mixture of unease and discomfort.

"I am going to take your panties off now ," he whispered, his hand moving towards the elastic of your underwear and you reluctantly nodded before shutting your eyes tightly.

As his fingers hooked the fabric and pulled them down, you couldn't help but feel vulnerable and exposed.

You didn't dare to open your eyes as you felt his hand move higher, his fingers tracing a path along your inner thigh. The sensation was overwhelming, and you couldn't help but flinch when he touched you.

"You are so pretty down here, eh," Thomas murmured, his fingers still hovering just above your entrance. "Such a pretty girl." 

You tried to stay still, but your body was trembling, your breath coming in sharp, short gasps as he slowly moved his fingers towards your wet folds, tracing a path from your opening and up to your clit. You let out a surprised gasp as his fingers grazed the sensitive nub.

"Now I am going to have a look inside that little hole of yours to see how far we need to stretch it before I can put my cock in there," Thomas whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded your understanding, biting your lip as you felt him part your folds with his fingers, exposing you to him.

"Fucking hell, Love ," he breathed, and you could hear the awe in his voice. "You're opening is so small," Tommy murmured, and you couldn't help but wince at his words.

"I don't think you will be able to take my cock for quite some time yet," he continued, and you couldn't help but feel relieved.

"But don't worry, Love, I'll make sure you are ready for me when the time comes," he whispered, and your heart skipped a beat at his words.

"Now, I will give your treasure a little kiss, eh ," Thomas whispered, and you couldn't help but shut your eyes again tightly. The thought of your employer kissing you down there made you feel uncomfortable, and a small part of you was worried about what he would do next.

You felt him shift his body on the bed, moving himself lower until his head was between your legs. His hot breath ghosted over your folds, causing you to gasp and squirm under his touch.

"Relax, Love," Thomas murmured, his warm breath tickling your flesh, as his tongue snaked out and gently traced up your slit.

You gasped, your eyes flying open as you felt his tongue explore you. It was an overwhelming sensation, foreign yet not entirely unpleasant, as Thomas began to lick you.

"That's a good girl. Hold still. I am just getting your hole nice and wet so that I can try and slip a finger in there," Thomas commanded and you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you.

"No finger please , Mr. Shelby. It's too much," you pleaded, your voice trembling.

"Shh, it's alright Love. It will be painful at first, but you will get used to it and, after I have fingered your little hole a few times, I have no doubt that you will be ready for my cock," Thomas assured you, his voice gentle but firm.

You couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping up inside of you as you felt his finger slowly enter your virgin hole. It was a strange and uncomfortable sensation, one that felt invasive and wrong. But at the same time, there was something about it that felt...taboo. Something that made your heart race and your breath catch in your throat.

"Look at that. You are such a beautiful girl," Thomas murmured, as he slowly finger-fucked your virgin hole, letting you get used to the sensation of being filled.

While he finger fucker her, he slowly unbuckled his belt and took off his pants, freeing his erect cock from its confines.

"No, no, please, not that," you whimpered, trying to push his fingers out of you, but he just held your hips down with one hand, and continued to finger you with the other.

"Shhh, it will be alright. I won't put my cock into your treasure box tonight, I promise,"  Thomas whispered, his voice soft and soothing as he continued to finger you with one hand while stroking himself with the other .

You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes as you let out a shaky breath. You couldn't look at his cock, leaking pre-cum onto your virgin flesh while he fingered you. 

"Such a pretty , tight little hole you have here," Thomas murmured, his fingers curling up inside of you, making you whimper. "And in a few weeks, I will put my big hard cock into it and fill you up to the brim, eh? You will feel nice and full."

You couldn't help but feel panic rise up inside of you as Thomas continued to caress you, his fingers slipping in and out of your virgin hole. His words made you feel sick to your stomach, and all you wanted was for this to be over.

"Now watch me cum all over this little cunt of yours, Love," he growled, his hand moving faster and faster over his shaft. His eyes were glued to the sight of his fingers stretching and filling you, a cruel smile playing on his lips.

You couldn't bear to watch as you clenched your fists. 

He grunted as he came, spurts of hot cum painting your mound, the white sticky substance contrasting with your swollen flesh.

"Good girl," he panted, pulling his fingers out of you and running it over his cum before pushing some of the sticky substance into your hole.  Thomas's semen oozing out of you, making a mess between your thighs.

"I'll make sure to clean you up before we leave this room," he assured you eventually after he was done playing with the mess he made, standing up and pulling his trousers back on.

He offered you a hand, pulling you up from the bed as well, and guided you to the attached bathroom.

You stood there looking at him with wide eyes, unable to move or say anything as he started the bath for you.

"Get in, Love," Thomas said, gently nudging you towards the steaming water.

You hesitated before stepping into the warm embrace of the bathtub, feeling grateful for the comfort it offered after what had just transpired. Thomas knelt beside the tub and began to clean you, his touch gentle as he washed away the remnants of their encounter.

As he did so, Thomas couldn't help but admire your youthful beauty, the way your skin glowed beneath the warm water, your soft curves and smooth flesh.

He felt a stirring in his loins once again, but quickly pushed the thought away. This wasn't about him, at least not right now. He wanted to keep you around and, with that, he knew that needed to slowly introduce to his world.

T

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[matan4il]

Buddie 610 meta

Holy shit, this ep.

Okay, what shall we start with? Maybe with what 911 itself starts, lots of foreshadowing. At the beach call, we have Eddie looking at Buck and replying to him (about the lightning), “I really hope it doesn’t strike twice, though.” Which, of course we know it will. But the foreshadowing continues, as Buck talks to Omar about unexpected things in life coming out of nowhere. That suggests we need to pay extra attention to other elements in this ep that might act as foreshadowing for later events along 6b. ~~

That kind of connects to me with Buck being closely tied to Ely, the pregnant lady (he saves the day there twice, first by realizing the oil is dripping and if they use the saw, it might prove fatal, then by helping Bobby with the baby). First off, it made me chuckle when we learned that, despite being driven to the hospital by a man, he’s actually not her partner. 911 made sure we knew Ely has a wife, and that she has another kid with her. Is it a coincidence when Buck, who practically has a husband and a kid with him already, is the main firefighter taking care of her? Maybe, but it still amused me. What really made me take note is when he told her not to push, trying to stall her childbirth, and she replied that it doesn’t depend on her. That made me wonder if perhaps this is also in a way foreshadowing what we might end up seeing with the sperm donation storyline. I’m not sure, I can’t be, but I was not surprised to see that storyline brought up later in the ep. ~~

In general, this ep’s title, “In a Flash,” might seem to refer to the lightning storm the team experiences, but the real tempest is the havoc our families can wreak on us, tied to the unexpected nature change can sometimes take on. Chim’s dad suddenly shows up, raining on his parade. Albert suddenly thinks Chim should give their dad a chance to be Jee Yun’s grandpa, but decides against giving his brother a warning. The Buckley parents are suddenly making an effort, yet leaving everyone suspicious and unnerved. Albert suddenly leaks Buck’s sperm donation to everyone and unleashes hell between the in-laws. Denny’s changes, probably influenced by getting in touch with his dad, come as a surprise to Hen. And of course, at the climax of the ep, Bobby as the unofficial adoptive father of Buck might lose his son in a flash. The whole ep is filled with these parallels of abrupt familial disquiet, especially in relation to dads, on all 118 fronts. And as Buck deals with maybe the biggest of these questions, because he doesn’t even yet know what he wants for himself and how does the life he helped create (but only as a donor) fit into that, it’s no wonder his life ends up hanging literally in the balance. ~~

One of the most painful things in this ep for me was seeing how much Buck’s parents are willing to accept him as a donor, because not for a second do they think he can be a father. That would be the natural conclusion from him looking at a sonogram on his phone, but his parents find it easier to believe their daughter is pregnant again than to think Buck would be a dad (ironic, because he already is one. Just not to the baby in the sonogram). It reminded me of how Eddie’s parents also didn’t believe in his ability to be a dad, and actively petitioned to have Chris taken from him to be raised by them in 315. It amazes me every time anew just how much Buddie are compatible, because their stories parallel so much that they can understand each other in ways most other people can’t. ~~

And it gets to me that this whole episode also insists on reminding us how good Buck is with kids, first with the ones on the beach, calming them down and answering their questions to help them make sense of the whole ordeal. Then with Ely’s baby, a callback to how we saw him with the pipe baby in 101. It connects to him looking at the baby sonogram, all excited, once again acting so much like an expectant dad would (parallel to him and the firefighter onesie in 609), when we know he’s not actually going to be that baby’s father. It very much does feel like 911 is signaling to us Buck has some realizations coming his way in this context. ~~

Speaking of the kids on the beach, Buck telling the boy he wants to fix everything, then adding that Buck gets it, had me screaming into my fists, because hey, remember who said that to Buck? That’s right, his Eddie, back in 504. A reminder of how much Eddie sees Buck, accepts him and allows him to be himself, enabling Buck in turn to reflect that back to that kid. Of course, in the context of the sperm donation, Buck’s tendency made him want to help “fix” things for Connor and Kameron, and we might learn in 6b that Buck comes to realize he sometimes lets this tendency take him to places that aren’t actually good for him, without fully considering the consequences, and then hopefully, he’ll get to find a way to balance this, to be himself, but not derailed from his life goals by this part of himself. ~~

At the same time that the ep shows us how good Buck is with kids, it also serves to remind us of the one kid that we’ve seen him co-parent all along, the one who has always demonstrated what a good, loving dad Buck is, Christopher. Yes, when we see Buck working on his cooking with Bobby, it’s a part of the many parallels revolving around dads in this ep, so Buck and Bobby’s r/s is the immediate focus, but at the same time, we know who Buck is learning this FOR. Lazania kitchen scene from 601, anyone? Oh, but the best part? It’s when Buck tells Bobby, “Something’s missing.” He can’t quite put the finger on what, but he knows something in his domesticity isn’t fully there. I wonder what, Buck... And this is again in an ep full of foreshadowing! ~~

It may seem like a minor thing, but remember how in my past meta, I was more or less losing it over the many times Buck and Eddie did rope rescues together as their own team within the 118 team, even having their assigned roles where Eddie connects Buck to the line and then becomes an anchor himself to keep Buck safe, to the point where I wrote a smut fic involving this very meaningful act? Yeah, so imagine me seeing that the most intense Buddie call we’ve had since the end of 413 starts with them doing this subtextually intimate thing, Eddie hooking Buck up to the rope, becoming his literal life line, and even teasingly calling him “cowboy” while at it. No, I was not breathing for a full minute at least. ~~

But since I brought up the shooting in 413, can we talk about the insanity of the parallels? Take the meaningful staring once disaster strikes. Back in s4, it was mutual, right before Eddie collapsed. In 610, Buck is unconscious, so you wouldn’t think they could stare at each other at this moment, right? Plus, back in 413, it was just the two of them present at the scene out of the 118, the other members of the team weren’t there. The lightning strike seems a lot less intimate in comparison... But in this ep, the camera plays a role in recreating that same dynamic, singling out the connection between Buddie. Because when Buck is hit by lightning, we get shots of every 118 member looking up and being terrified of what just happened to their friend.

The only exception in terms of this shot? Eddie. He’s the only one that isn’t being filmed from the side as he looks up, he’s filmed from above as he looks straight into the camera. Essentially, the shot recreates Buck’s POV for Eddie, and for him alone. It shows us what Buck would see and how he would stare down, back at Eddie, if he only could. The fact that the camera has to do this instead of Buck himself further emphasizes the horror of Buck being unconscious, but the choice to do this only with Eddie highlights their connection and makes it clear that Buddie’s bond IS different to what the other team members have with Buck, no matter how close the others are to him or how much they love him. What’s insane is that DESPITE having all of the 118 there, there is still a bubble within this whole situation that is Buddie and Buddie’s alone, even as Buck himself is unconscious. It’s no wonder Eddie jumps up that electrocuted ladder without even thinking about it, it’s no wonder no one even tries to stop him or warn him of the danger in that. That is a man on a mission to save the other half of him, and the show tells us that in more than one way.

That’s gonna continue through Eddie’s attempts (and eventual success) in getting Buck away from immediate danger, as well as when the team tries but then fails to revive Buck, because Eddie will be the one to push past Bobby to see Buck, and Eddie will be the one Bobby has to keep in line by assigning him driving duty, maybe the most important thing anyone can do for Buck once all the medical assistance they can give him in the field is of no further use. ~~

One more thing regarding the comparison with the shooting arc in s4, as well as talking about camera shots, is that we get to see the difference between a platonic friend resuscitating his teammate and a man desperately trying to keep the love of his life alive. If you look at Chim doing compressions on Buck, he’s giving it his all, because he DOES love Buck, Chim’s doing his best for his friend and brother in law. But the shot is not an intimate one, we don’t get close ups, we don’t get to focus on the eyes and see the frantic look of a man who knows he CAN’T fail, we don’t see the intimate touch of a hand laying a gauze on an exposed chest and trying to keep this treasured body together, we do get “come on, Buck,” but we don’t get personal speech, begging the other man to hold on and just “stay with me.” While back in 414, in the ambulance, we had ALL of those as Buck, almost on the verge of losing his sanity, fought for Eddie’s life. ~~

Lastly, I’ve made in the past a gifset of times when we’ve seen Buck screaming Eddie’s name in horror at the face of danger (including in 413), and I love that we can finally add to that Eddie doing the same thing for Buck. But I think it’s particularly meaningful that it happened not as a matter of when Buck would be in danger, but rather it was a question of just how significant Buck had to become to Eddie for this former, highly decorated soldier to go from the stoic man he was in 218 to what we see in 610 (as seen in my latest weekly gifset). Because Eddie WAS incredibly worried back in the s2 finale. He was gritting his teeth, you can see the tension on his face, and the second it was safe, he sprang to Buck’s side. Eddie also held on to him while everyone else was lifting the truck (even though Chim, as a medic, would have been a more natural choice to hold on to Buck, while Eddie the firefighter helps lift engine 118). And Eddie wouldn’t even let go of Buck’s hand on the way to the truck. HE WAS DISTRAUGHT. But the man who kept his facade up in the hospital after Shannon, his wife and mother of his son, died just one ep earlier, did the same thing with Buck. What I find so telling is that he can no longer do that by 610. Buck has become such an integral part of his life, of his family, of who Eddie is as a person and how he deals with life, way more than even Shannon managed to be. And that’s why Eddie loses it, confirming what we’ve known for a while: Buddie are life partners. ~~

I now have direct links to my weekly meta posts, my Buddie gifs and more of my content in my pinned post. Loads of love to @whosoldherout​​ for making unbelievable gifs for my very unique requests. You’re a star! Tag list will follow in the reblog. Thank you in advance for any reblog and like! I’m operating on 1.5 hours of sleep to get this posted ASAP, so I really appreciate any and all encouragement to keep doing this. xoxox

[realcube]

hiii my sweet toe bunny😍😚🤎 i have an upcoming gigahuge exam bc it will determine whether i have to go to school for another whole damn year or not so im getting the stress hornies big time!! your requests seem to be open for some reason?! good writers like you are usually busy with a flood of them so i can never request anything😭 but anyways i was gonna throw you this little peanut, a classic really: size kink with lev! dont even know if you write for him lol, couldnt see it on ur profile🥲 i think he’d have the size kink more than any of us ever could, i just feel like he goes crazy especially if its a much shorter person. bc having a size difference from far away is one thing, but being right next to the person and interacting with them and putting your hand on their back and realizing you’re nearly twice their size… is another.

feel free to ignore this pookie butt im soo sorry if this is too specific or something ☹️☹️ writing is hard and getting inspired by someone elses idea is even harder, so yeah. stay hydrated and keep emitting gamma rays☃️

LEV HAIBA + SIZE KINK

a/n → not the sweet toe bunny 😭 stress hornies is so real, sorry for replying so late rah. but i hope your exam went well. or if you haven't sat it yet , good luck and i hope this helps :) also thank you so much for i compliments i can'tttt aaa 😩 wc — 2.5k

tags/tws → size kink (ofc lol), petite!reader, breeding, vaginal, fingering, oral (giving), frenching, petnames, semi-public, pregnancy implications & no beta

you've seen haiba lev before, in magazines and on billboards. sometimes even on television, promoting luxury perfumes in advertisements or modelling designer clothes on the runway.

you knew he was tall — most models are — but it was only when you saw him in person that you realised how truly big he is, how he towers over everyone else on set.

you work as an intern for a famous fashion brand, and you met haiba during a photoshoot he was doing for their new office wear campaign. your job was mostly fetching food or drinks for the models; making sure they were comfortable at all times.

the first interaction you ever had with him was when you were handing out water bottles to the models as they walked onto set, and as soon as you saw his huge frame saunter in, you almost froze from shock. he flashes you a polite smile and mouthed a quick "thank you" as he followed the director to where ever she was leading him.

and though it was brief, that was enough to have you fixated on him for the rest of the photoshoot. you were attentive to your duties but still so mesmerised by him. his lean figure and silvery hair. you had always known lev haiba was exceptionally attractive — he's a model, for fucks' sake — but something about seeing him in person made you feral.

and little did you know, after he first saw you, lev kept an eye out for you too. admiring from afar how hard you worked, and making sure to flex just a little bit more for the photos whenever you were nearby. he just thought you were so cute.

you assumed this whole situation would end as a little temporary work crush. you can fangirl over him for now and blush whenever he smirks at you from across the room, but once this shoot was over, he would never think of you again, while you'd go back to seeing his face plastered nearly everywhere and fantasize about what could've been.

but that wasn't lev's idea. he was used to pursing what he wants.

when the shoot is nearing completion for the day, lev has a long conversation with the photographer and is one of the last models to leave the set.

you were tasked with helping the models remove the designer's clothes, if they needed it. thankfully the majority of them didn't and by the time lev entered the changing room, all the others were leaving to go home, and you were wishing them a safe journey.

"excuse me, ms?" you hear a voice call from the changing room, followed by lev stepping out from behind curtain. he was previously wearing a full suit, but you can see he's shedded the black blazer and was now in only the fitted white shirt, black trousers and dress shoes.

he was looking down and fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, "could you help with this, please?" he asks with an awkward chuckle.

lips slightly parted at his unexpected inquiry, once the initial shock fades, you hastily nod and guide him back into the changing room, and this time you enter with him.

it's a confined area but still somewhat big. there's enough space for the two of you to stand, a stool, a clothes rack and full length mirror. he stands before you while you work on unbuttoning his shirt, starting from the top.

"sorry for asking you do this. the buttons are just too small for me." he holds his hands up as a size comparison, and they're undoubtly big.

"it's okay," you stutter, not daring to break your intense stare with his buttons because you know if you were to look up at his face, you might die. "i know these can be very fiddly sometimes."

"exactly." he nods in agreement.

it takes you quite a while to even reach his mid-torso because your hands are shaking so much from being in such close proximity to a celebrity you admire so much. and not only that, but you're literally taking his clothes off. and lev takes notice of his and comments, "nervous?"

your eyes widen and you freeze, heart jumping to your throat. eventually, you're able to squeak, "kinda."

"why?" he laughs, but not in a mocking way. he's genuinely confused as to why you'd be scared of someone like him. it's funny because people usually praise him for being very friendly and approachable.

"you're just.." your voice trails off, trying to think of a way to explain yourself without sounding offensive. "intimidating, y'know, in stature."

lev laughs even harder this time, "woah, that takes me back to when i was in high school. people used to be scared of me because i was the tallest kid in class." he explains, and you detect a hint of pride in his tone.

"that makes sense." you muse, continuing to work on his buttons but it becomes increasingly difficult. especially as he captures your chin between his fingers and pushed your head up so you meet his fiery gaze.

"doesn't make any sense to me." after soaking up your cute flustered expression, he glances down and sees you've only got one button left to do, so he prompts, "go on."

since your fingers are already latched onto it, you're somehow able to undo it without looking. he then releases his grip on your chin so he can slip the shirt off, hanging it up on the adjacent rack.

now shirtless, he turns to you and hums, "your turn?"

lips pressed into a line and heat burning your cheek, the only response you're physically able to give is a meek squeak accompanied by an eager nod. which doesn't even begin to encompass your enthusiasm but perhaps that's for the best.

he smiles at your agreement and grabs the bottom of your top and pulls it off in one swift motion, leaving you standing in your bra in front of him. and before you have a moment to process any of this, he slips one arm behind your shoulder and his other hand reclaims its spot on your jaw to manoeuvre your head upwards, so it's ready to receive his kiss when his lips suddenly come crashing down onto yours.

despite your tact, now that his lips have locked with yours, you find yourself melting into his touch and moving your against him rhythmically. your bodies — though vastly different in proportions — arching into each other desperately.

while one hand sloppily undoes his belt and pulls his cock free from the designer trouser, the other hand on your jaw slowly moves to hold your cheek as the two of you kiss fervently, then it shifts up to your ear, then tangles itself in your hair which he uses to gently pull you away.

you whine quietly at the seperation, missing his hot lips against your own, and he smirks at your reaction. eyes glued to yours, he rasps, "you want it, pretty?"

he motions downwards and you bite your lip at the sight; his size alone is enough to leave you dumdfounded and nodding pathetically, eager to hop on to his monstrous length.

"good girl. think you can handle it?"

"uhuh." you whisper, shaky hands wandering down to take hold of him, and he lets you. in fact, with his grip on your hair, he yanks you down until your face is mere inches away from his tip, "taste first."

with hesitation, you drop to your knees and graciously accept as much of him as you can into your mouth, though that is barely even half. lev still appreciates it; the warmth of your mouth causing his breath to hitch. his cock even twitches at the sight of your cheeks puffed out, struggling to hold him inside.

when his tip prods the back of your throat, it causes you to gag a little, so you immediately jerk away from his cock and cough into your arm.

a concerned look crosses his features and he lightly rubs your back to aid your coughing, "ah, sorry." he apologises, as if it was his fault his cock was so huge that you were gagging on it.

"it's okay." you grate once your coughing fit has calmed down, throat still a bit dry.

he offers you his hand to help you stand up, "c'mon, cutie, that's enough teasing." he reassures you.

you place your hand upon his and as he guides you to your feet , you can't help but notice how big his hand is compared to yours. your thoughts suddenly becomes flooded with fantasties of what you want those big hands to do to you, which he notes by how your touch lingers for a couple moments extra after he lets go.

identifying what your longing for, he presses his lips against yours once more, engaging in a heated make-out while his hands wander down to unzip your jeans and tug them off, leaving you in only your underwear.

while he creeps in tongue into your mouth to make for a french, his long slender fingers rubs your labia through the fabric of your panties, amused by how wet you are already. "still think you can take it?" he basically breathes into the kiss, parting for barely a second to mutter his inquiry.

you reply with an affirmitive moan into the kiss. and just in case that wasn't clear enough, you hook your leg around his hips to give him better access.

he gladly slides the damp strip of material out of the way and sticks his two fingers into your hole, silently snickering at how you writhe at the stimulation of his fingers alone. but you can't help it; they're just so long at push against your walls in just the right way that makes your needy pussy flutter.

the wet noises from your pussy fill the changing room, shortly followed by your stifled moans — afraid other staff might be nearby to hear. his palms rubs against your throbbing clit, as his fingers shallowly thrust inside you. the minimum amount of stimulation needed to make you squim.

lev simply stares at you, enchanted by how your tight hole clings to him, and how the size of his palm compares to your pussy. it's like he could scoop you all up in one hand; hold you tenderly in his hand like a precious doll.

"sweet girl.." he idles, fingers stirring inside you, "fit me so well."

just as he says that, a hiss is drawn from you at how he harshly pulls his fingers out of your hole.

"bend over for me." he commands nicely, and without a second thought, you turn around and bend over, positioning your forearms against the changing room walls to balance you. while you do this, lev has already hooked a finger under the lace of your panties and dragged them down until they fell to your ankles.

his fingers rubbed over your labia, occasionally teasing your clit and soaking up your slick with each seductive movement. his other hand worked on aligning his cock with your glistening hole, until the bulbous tip was prodding against your enterance, at which you let out a low whine of confirmation.

however you didn't fully understand the capacity of what you were giving yourself up for until it was halfway stuffed inside you, contorting your plushing walls to accomodate his massive size and creating a slight buldge in your abdomen. truly it had knocked the wind out of you and despite him no longer being crammed down your throat, you were still choking on it.

as you writhe and mewl in attempt to cope with the intrusion, lev pauses and takes a moment to admire your figure beneath him. how you're so kindly bent over for him, and your tight cunt is struggling to accept his cock.

you were just the right size. with you bent over, he was still tall enough to place his hands on the wall above you, essentially capturing you under him. his sweet angel ready to take him all, and he couldn't help his eagerness to give you what you want.

before he knows it, his hips start to move autonomously against yours, ramming his length into sopping pussy repeatedly, making a lewd squelching noise with every sharp thrust. the volume of which made it clear to anybody nearby what was going on in this changing room, though you didn't have the power to try and silence it, as the hot arousal pooling by your pussy was the only lubricant that facilitated lev's entrance into you, and main reason it was possible for him to move within your homey walls.

his dick stabbed into you over and over, while his slender fingers drew lazy circles over your clit. you were trying your best to stay hushed in fear of being overheard, but lev didn't seem to care. he was allowing the moans, profanities and obscene exclamations to flow freely off his tongue with out a care in the world for who might hear.

"fuck, cutie, so tight." he squeezes the flesh of your ass, then lets his hand wander up so it rests on the small of your back. he's just so much bigger than you, if he wanted he could probably pick you up and fuck you at his height so he doesn't have to bend his knees so much. it's a miracle you're even able to fit him all inside that petite little pussy.

it gets him so hard so see you like this. stripped bare and trembling under him, stifled moans brewing behind your lips and legs trembling as his colossal dick thrashes against your insides. relentless and bruising your cervix with each fervish thrust. completely fucked out from being impaled by his dick, your arms have given out which levaes your cheek pressed lazily against the wall of the changing room. the cold plastic making contact with your skin, hardly enough to combat the waves of searing pleasure he sends rushing through your quivering body.

"can't take it, huh?" he leans over you, his breathy words tickling your shoulder, "too much for this little pussy? too big for my sweet girl?" mindless dirty talk spills from his mouth as his eyes squeeze shut and he basks in the warmth of your walls clamping down on him.

and he pries them open again only so he can get another look at your shaking body, struggling to take him all but persevering. and with the friction of your hole , along with the sight of your small waist held in his soft hands, it wasn't long until lev finished inside you, spilling his hefty load within the confines of your gummy walls.

his cock was pushes out in the process, which made you sigh of relief, but with his hand already positioned on your clit, he was hasty to stuff his fingers right back into your creamed pussy, causing you to gasp.

"sorry," he whispered, straightening his posture and shuffling back, "just don't want to get any on my trousers. they're designer." he chuckles to himself, meanwhile you are still bend over with his load filling your insides; fully exposed and panting.

"maybe i should've used a condom." he muses, playfully curling his fingers, resulting in an erotic moan departing from your lips.

lev laughs heartily, as though he had just cracked the funniest joke, "nah. raw's more fun." he yanks his fingers out, leaving you to feel the full force of his cum stirring within you, "who knows, maybe next time i come back here, there will a tiny version of me."

he places a final kiss to the nape of your neck before heading to pick up his shirt, "and i don't just mean tiny because of your genes."

[sihtryggr]

I have a lot of grievances with this show, one of them being how they’ve gone above and beyond to constantly drag up the paternity of the Velaryon boys, despite it being a blip in the book because black-haired Rhaenys and *ambiguity* actually existed. BUT that’s just whatever at this point and there’s no use bringing it up again. SO, considering the direction they’ve taken all of this! Man… show!Rhaenyra really pisses me off and honestly? I just feel bad for show!Jace. He’s had rumours of being a ‘bastard’ following him around his whole life. His life has constantly been at risk as a result and Alicent had also been putting their legitimacy to question which Viserys had to shut down on more than one occasion, reminding her, “the consequences of the allegations you toy at would be dire.” Jace himself has known with certainty since he was at least 8 (I’m not sure how old he is in 01x06) that he’s not Laenor’s ‘trueborn’ son. He’s had to stand before a court of people TWICE while his legitimacy was put to question - once subtly in his mother’s home and once very loudly in his father’s home “we know father, everyone knows. Just look at them.” He’s since gone above and beyond to prove that he deserves to be apart of his own family, that he’s the perfect son and Prince and a worthy heir to the Iron Throne. All of this in the face of Rhaenyra STILL holding love for Alicent, the woman who helped along the ‘bastard’ rumours that could’ve put his life at risk, the woman who tried to attack and take his little brother’s eye, the woman who allowed a petition to go ahead that put his own legitimacy into question, the woman whose son was responsible for his little brother’s death because she put it in her son’s head that he was still owed a debt, the woman who helped usurp Rhaenyra AND him, the woman who Rhaenyra snuck out to see without telling anyone to broker ‘peace terms’. Now they’re at war, Jace has successfully won Rhaenyra three of her biggest allies (Stark, Arryn and Frey) but everything has come to a head for him (albeit it was his idea, just twisted) and when he properly confronts Rhaenyra about her past choices, making his insecurities known to her because to him she is stripping him of this one thing that he believes holds him true and maintains his legitimacy because “I’m no fool, mother! The proof is here for all to see.” And all Rhaenyra can say is “I mislike all of this” - I MISLIKE ALL OF THIS?

Yeah. They could never make me hate Jace after all of that.

edited.

[intheshadowsbehindyou]

The Mercs react to Y/N telling them they have PTSD:

WARNING: FUCKING LONG.

Scout:

- He nods along slowly as you explain this. He might be incredibly childish and confrontational towards everyone but he’s not short of knowledge he learned in college, and personal experience. He seems to understand.

- Scout looks beyond terrified as you describe what happened to you. He doesn’t understand why something so terrible would happen to somebody with so much value.

- He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s had childhood trauma himself. He goes “My brothers weren’t nice when we were little..” He then refuses to elaborate. This was his attempt to empathize with you.

- He sits there on the side of your bed with his head in his hands. Bouncing his knee restlessly. You could’ve swore you heard a sniffle.

- He’s trying to make his emotional state unnoticeable. But it’s clear to you that he cares. The attempts to hold back his tears say it all.

- If you ask for physical comfort he won’t hesitate twice. His petite body surprisingly feels muscular. He’ll lock his arms around you in a huge hug and won’t let go. He rocks you like a small baby.

————————————————————————

Soldier:

- Freezes up. Like straight up goes stiff. You swear he’s cosplaying as a statue. He’s facing away from you with his hands behind his back as you explain your trauma. You can’t see his expression.

- You think he might not understand and you give up on trying to explain. But then he turns around and goes “No, private. I understand how you feel.”

- Wait what??? Not to be rude or anything but soldier isn’t exactly the brightest when it comes to certain stuff. He’s mostly focused on complete chaos of war and the mayhem he so blissfully causes to his targets. With little room for stuff like psychology. But he sounds surprisingly stoic and understanding.

- As it turns out, whilst he didn’t serve in the US army directly nor has PTSD from the war, his nazi killing spree gave him some pretty horrible insight on what tragedy can do to people. Seeing the look on your face.. It’s the same exact look that young children had when he freed them from camps. (Via blowing the camps up of course.)

- He sounds surprisingly mellow as he comforts you with hugs and reassuring back rubs. Unlike his usual loud and vibrant way of speaking. This is vulnerability you didn’t even know soldier was capable of.

- He has a deadpan look once you finally catch a glimpse of his face underneath that helmet of his. Almost distant and exhausted. He experienced empathy burnout instantaneously.

- “I’m sorry. I know.” Is all he can think of saying. Repeatedly.

————————————————————————

Demoman:

- He’s pissed. Not at you, but at the people who directly or indirectly caused this. You can see righteous anger flaring in his remaining eye as you explain all this baggage to him. He taps his finger on the table impatiently.

- “Bloody hell, this world has nothing but injustice after injustice. And den’ dey wonder why it’s so fucked up. oh, I don’t know lad! Maybe it’s because people like you are stupid as shit!” He goes on a rant about the people involved. He spews drunken threat after threat, waving his bottle around as he talks about all the different ways he could play jump rope with their intestines.

- He immediately drags you into a bear hug. You can hear the venom dripping off his words as he swears that nobody will ever hurt you that way again — Not on his watch. You can hear him breathing heavily against his vest. His breath sounds like a growl. He’s had explosive rage before at the enemy team (pun intended) but this seemed to be his worst yet.

- He puts his entire weight on you, and shields you with his large bulky body. It was like having a giant great dane lay across you protectively. Ready to snap at anything that came near.

- God forbid somebody actually attempts to talk to you today after this revelation. He’ll be watching them closely to ensure your mental state is at ease. The last thing you need right now is another stressor. He becomes increasingly overprotective for the first few weeks.

————————————————————————

Engineer:

- Similar to soldier you can’t seem to understand the expression under his goggles at first. It’s rather unreadable. He sits across from you in his workshop with his hands supporting his head in relaxed position. But as you go into more detail his body language becomes more and more tense. He stops relaxing and instead sits up in the chair and crosses his arms to self soothe.

- He pinches the roof of his nose. His head down in thought. At this rate he can’t even make eye contact with you. He’s distressed about something.

- The gears are turning in his head. “Pardner, are you tellin’ me you had all this shit on your back, and you never even thought of telling me?”

- You profusely apologize, mistaking his behavior for anger. But he’s far from angry. “Hush now, hush.” He wipes your tears away with his gloved metallic hand. You could feel the hardness of the mechanism underneath.

- He sits there with you for an extremely long time. Wrapping you in a blanket that his mom knitted him, and lovingly rubbing your tummy, sides, and back. He seems to know the surface layer concepts of comforting someone with severe trauma. He let you know he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. That it was in the past and it will remain there.

- You are loved. He really wants you to know your value. He’s hooked on letting you know, in fact. How much you didn’t deserve such terrible things.

- He whispers kind and loving things in your ear. My god, it sounds like velvet to your eardrums. If ears could cum then yours would. His southern drawl is enticing you to relax.

————————————————————————

Heavy:

- Uh oh..

- Yeah, no. quite possibly more pissed than Demoman. You can tell because he’s dead silent and staring out into space with the most malicious intentions in mind. Usually an angry heavy is a loud one, but you were kinda nervous seeing the boiling kettle of a man.

- But unlike Demoman he doesn’t voice his intentions. Let’s just say whatever they are; I recommend you keep him far away from the people involved. Because they’ll likely end up the most gruesome crime scene imaginable. He doesn’t take kindly to stuff like this.

- Due to being a very family oriented person he immediately introduces you to his sisters and mother over the payphone. Because that was usually the thing that made him feel safe. His sisters immediately take a liking to you, and you can hear girlish giggling over the phone. They think you’re cute. No wonder Heavy felt so safe around them.

- “You will become like Heavy’s family. Da?” He asks. Offering you a place amongst them. He knows stuff like this calls for community. He knows it heals people. “And heavy will protect you.”

- You randomly find gifts of food on your bed stand if you have a particularly bad PTSD day. Especially honey cake. His mother always made him that whenever he was upset. They always have little notes attached to them. Small poems about self love.

————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Responds in a very “WHAT THE FUCK??!!” type matter. They’re disgusted and shocked. They immediately hug you without second thought and squeeze you. (A little too tightly.)

- Out of all the mercs, Pyro has to be the most outwardly emotional. They can’t stop bawling about how terrible they feel. They’re crying so much over the thought that that a delicate anomaly of nature had their heart stomped on repeatedly and destroyed.

- Their love language in this situation is nothing but physical affection and kisses. They are so worked up at this revelation that not a single word of encouragement can come out of them. They know they can’t take back what had happened to you. All they want to do is just that.

- Over the next few days, Pyro’s mourning for your mental health quickly manifests less as sadness and more as hyper caregiving. They protect you more fiercely on the battlefield and Spycheck on the regular. They seem more committed to their job and less dissociated than usual. They don’t seem very up to jokes right now.

- Pyro knows trauma is no joke. They know that full well. They become more responsible and ask their colleagues to leave you alone if you feel too stressed. They’re capable of detecting a potential flashback and immediately take you into their quarters to relax from triggers. The expression on your face says it all. You can’t hide anything from Pyro.

————————————————————————

Sniper:

- Shit. god dammit. Fuck.

- He’s laying in his camper van’s bed with his face staring at the ceiling. The entire time he has a look of complete dismay plastered across his face.

- Sniper isn’t exactly the most vocal Merc, but to your surprise he has a lot of things to say about this. Primarily how confused he was that someone like you could be handed such misfortune in life. At least in Sniper’s case he felt like he deserved it.

- His first initial reaction is to get your mind off it. Acknowledging your problems, he pulls out a camera from a box underneath his bed and retrieves a slide viewer. Slipping photos into it and showing you the pictures of Australian wildlife he took before entering the gravel wars. Attempting to ground you back into modern day by reminding you these animals are indeed still around.

- “Ya know, there’s animals everywhere. Isn’t it crazy to think that while we’re in here, a bloody tiger is goring a boar and whatnot? And the boar is absolutely shitting itself? Sometimes it’s hard to imagine we were part of that world once. That we’re still animals. Just really intelligent. It’s easy to mistake ourselves as unlovable gods when our nutty piss mongrel asses can’t even remember a time where we weren’t atop the food chain. We set unrealistic expectations for ourself.” He says, giving an example that everybody is worth while. (This is the same guy who kills anybody by the way.)

- “Just.. What i’m saying is that it’ll take a while for you to heal. I’m here to help with that, mate.” He mutters. He seems pretty against being emotional but it’s not like he has much of a choice in this situation. He deeply cares about you. You’re nice to him.

- There is content silence after a while. After looking through the photos by himself one last time he sighs and plops the device back into the box. You were laid neatly on him, cuddling tightly. He put one hand on your back and rubbed it. His other hand dangling off to the side.

- “S’aight mate.” He says, having no clue how to process the fact you somehow ended up atop him.

————————————————————————

Medic:

- He takes intrigue to your situation. He stops dissecting the specimen he was eagerly studying the anatomy of, and has two fingers on the screw of his glasses. Giving you a raised eyebrow. His curiosity is evident and you can practically hear him thinking. Moving his lips as he tried to internally go over the symptoms of PTSD listed in his brain.

- He’s not surprised that you have PTSD. At all. Somehow he suspected something was wrong the moment you joined the team. No mentally healthy person acts like you do. But that’s okay. His overanalyzing of your mannerisms and behavior seemed to have paid off.

- “Ah yes, post traumatic stress disorder is actually very common with people from your situation. It is treatable.” He says, going for the route of reassuring you this won’t be forever. Dr. Ludwig refuses to show his true emotions to you. Trying to adopt a professional demeanor. He’s losing his mind on the inside and devastated. You catch a glimpse of his smile faltering once or twice.

- For some reason as you’re talking he’s moved away from his project and began writing down notes. Something akin to what a therapist would do. You can see he’s jotting down some of your experiences and symptoms to himself.

- “What medication do you take?” “Oh. Mhm.”

- He puts the temple of his glasses between his teeth and takes his gloves off. Heading towards his pill cabinet above the sink and setting down a bottle in front of you. The label is in german and it somehow looks.. Homemade. This is a terrible idea but this is Medic we’re talking about here. A man who is capable of fixing every problem inside a human body with just a simple snap of his fingers. Maybe if you’re lucky this won’t kill you.

- The medication doesn’t kill you, luckily. It’s very similar to prozac. It’s really a flip of the coin whether or not this aids you, but in the meantime you catch him pacing around his office reading self help books and books from psychologists. He seems eager to understand you. He SWEARS he doesn’t care. He’s just — uhm — doing this by habit because he’s paid to! Yeah! Wow, he really doesn’t want you to know he cares.

- While you’re asleep in bed he periodically begins cracking your door open and taking a peak at you, to make sure you haven’t awoke from a nightmare, or are lagging behind your sleep schedule. the shine of moonlight reflecting off his glasses makes him look rather horrifying. Sometimes if he thinks you’re fully asleep he’ll sit on the bed next to your unmoving body for a while and crosses his arms, looking at the floor. Like an incredibly anxious parent would keep their baby company when sickly.

————————————————————————

Spy:

- Stands silently in the shadows of the base, you can barely see his slim figure. But you can tell he’s listening intently. Unlike the others, you’re the only one he can truly tolerate. There’s a slightly depressed expression on his face as he takes drags of his cigarette. Looking down at the ground.

- “…Pour l’amour de dieu.” (For fuck’s sake.)

- He says nothing afterwards. He lets you vent however long you like. Let out your emotions, even cry. Which you eventually end up doing. He doesn’t complain and paces a little. His eyes still at the floor. Finally after a while of hesitation he raises his arms and offers an embrace. If you choose to hug him, he will do so in what can only be described as an incredibly grandpa-like matter. Back patting, rocking, and mumbles of sweet petnames in french.

- He baby talks you. Take that as you will. He sees you as incredibly adorable individual and because of this new problem he discovered you have, he feels a sense of responsibility that he must aid it in any way he can. Especially considering this man had caused unholy amounts of trauma to people in the past.

- He asks you what you need. Where you need it, and when. How can he make this recovery process easier for you? He even politely offers to kill the people involved. Elegantly going “I assure you, if it is repent for their sins you want, I can arrange that.” Wow thanks Spy.

- Depending on the trauma, he may react more strongly to daddy issues. Prepare to hear a series of new made up slurs specifically created for your father, by yours truly! If any parents are involved in general he’s going to become sickened and repulsed. Jewel-clutching type repulsed. He bares his teeth and shrinks away. nervously fixing his tie. “Ack.. And people think I have a horrible moral compass? Not even I would do something as distasteful as that.” He hisses.

[sparksinger]

Everything I'm Not

Summary: When a Decepticon attack rocks the base and Cordelia's self-worth, Optimus reminds her that family is a choice. One that he makes every day.

Rating: Teen and up (canon typical violence)

Relationships: Optimus Prime & Cordelia (OC), father-daughter dynamic, not romantic

Content/Trigger warnings: canon-typical violence, no major character death, robot gore, Decepticon attack, depiction of battle

Word Count: 10.1k

(complete fic below cut)

“If I ever were to lose you,

I’d surely lose myself.”

‘Future Days’ – Pearl Jam

The sun was beating down unrelentingly on the Autobot base, situated on Diego Garcia deep within the Indian Ocean.  Cordelia’s chestnut-auburn hair was stuck to her face as she focused on putting one foot in front of the other, her sneakered feet pounding the running track that seemed to stretch on endlessly before her. 

Coach Ros Hogan stood at the finish line, the whistle poised between her pursed lips, her dark brown irises tracing her class’s progress as they continued with their gruelling five kilometre run around the track. 

Cordelia’s calves burned more and more with each additional step as sweat trickled from the nape of her neck, down her t-shirt and onto the small of her back.  She cursed Coach Hogan inwardly, risking a quick glance over her shoulder as she tried to keep up with the rest of her classmates.  She was in the last third of people in the thirty-or-so of them that were running.  Sport, or indeed, any manner of physical activity had never been her forte. 

Unless she counted running from Decepticons.  That she could say she was really good at. 

The forty-degree heat did not help matters.  It felt like she had swallowed half the sand on the base, and she yearned for the cool, fresh water she knew was waiting for her after the last two laps that she had yet to run.  She had a sharp stitch making itself known in her left side and the pain behind her skull seemed to beat in time with her feet, each one worse than the last. 

Hannah Reid, a girl of British-Jamaican descent slowed her pace slightly in front of her, adjusting her stride so that she fell into pace easily beside Cordelia.  The bright sunlight cast a rich hue over her light-brown skin, accentuated by her dark brown hair.  Her hazel eyes found Cordelia’s and a raised brow posed her silent question. 

Cordelia had gotten to know Hannah a little better over the last year or so, once she had restarted at the school that was situated on the base at Diego Garcia.  Children of both the military and civilian personnel attended the facility, and Hannah was the only one that Cordelia had felt a genuine connection with. 

Hannah’s father was a Logistics Officer, and her mother was a medic.  Hannah herself was an easy-going, kind-hearted girl who had seemed to be the only one who hadn’t been intimidated by Cordelia’s bond with Optimus.   She had treated her like she treated everyone else, and after a year of being whispered about by the other kids, she found the treatment quite refreshing.

“Coach must be in a bad mood, huh?  Making us run around in this damned heat.  I wonder who pissed in her Cheerios this morning.”  Hannah made speaking seem effortless as she loped gracefully along beside Cordelia, her 5’7” frame covering twice as much distance as Cordelia’s own petite five-foot-one inch did. 

Cordelia exhaled heavily before she answered Hannah, trying to increase the seemingly limited capacity of her tired lungs. 

“This should be…illegal.”  Her words were punctuated by deep inhalations and exhalations through clenched teeth.  “My calves feel like they’ve been submerged in a vat of acid.” 

Hannah snorted and tried to cover it with a strategically timed cough.  “Well, to be fair, it’s worse for you.” 

Cordelia raised a brow in a silent question, unable to summon any more words while her lungs felt like they were in a concrete vice. 

Hannah chortled, placing a hand on Cordelia’s shoulder.  “Well, to be fair, it is worse for you.  You’ve technically run twice as much as the rest of us; or at the very least, you’ve done twice as many steps.” 

Cordelia regarded her friend with what she hoped was an unimpressed stare, blinking to try and stop the sweat from dripping into her eyes. She chose not to reply, but to spend the remainder of her quickly depleting energy on finishing the assigned distance before she collapsed from sheer exhaustion.

The beating of her feet on the floor became her monotone as the track disappeared beneath her, eaten up by each heavy fall of her trainers. It felt like she was having one of those anxiety dreams where no matter how hard and how fast she kept running, the finish line was always just out of her reach.

At long last, she crossed the painted white line and collapsed into a breathless heap onto the tarmac. Her lungs were working overtime, drawing huge volumes of air in before expelling it quickly, completing her respiratory cycle in record time. She scrunched her eyes shut against the harsh glow of the sun, bright as it was at three o’clock in the afternoon.

Cordelia heard Coach Hogan’s whistle blow, sounding like the hallelujah chorus. Hannah approached her then, holding out a bottle of still water to her. Cordelia took her outstretched hand and was pulled to her feet, slightly dizzy with being right-side-up again. She uncrewed the cap and took a long swig, the cool liquid a nirvana against the dry scratchiness of her throat after the run in the searing heat.

“Feelin’ alright Prime?” Hannah asked, taking a drink from her own bottle before replacing the cap. “You doing okay? I don’t wanna have to get the big guy over here to scrape you off the floor.” Cordelia rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend’s gentle teasing and nudged her in the side with an elbow.

“I’m fine. It seems my cross-country talents only kick in when there is a life-threatening situation happening, i.e. getting chased by a bunch of blood-thirsty Decepticons.”

Hannah shook her head in mock disappointment. “And here I was thinking that Coach Hogan’s whistle would get you running like Usain Bolt. Tut tut Miss Prime. And technically, wouldn’t it be Energon-thirsty Decepticons? Unless they’ve become afflicted with vampirism, in which case we’d better tell your dad straight away.”

“Oh my god. I think you are actually insane!” Cordelia laughed, pulling Hannah’s arm to link through her own. They started to amble slowly back towards the changing rooms, their heartrates now back down to a healthier rhythm.

Coach Hogan came up behind them, her ever present whistle swinging around her neck. “Come on ladies, get moving! I don’t particularly want to stand here and watch you two run another five laps of the track because you couldn’t be bothered to get back to the changing rooms before the end of the day.”

Cordelia bit back the retort that rose from the base of her throat, knowing it would be futile to argue with Coach on a Friday afternoon. Everyone was hot, tired and all wanted to go home.

Hannah apparently, did not share this viewpoint.

“With all due respect Coach, you set the times. If you had us running an hour ago instead of a half hour ago, we would have extra time to get changed and you could go and get that Martini that clearly has your name on it in the mess hall.”

For a second or two, Coach seemed to be too incensed with rage to reply. Cordelia watched the figurative tumbleweed roll across Hannah’s face, and she knew that Hannah knew she had messed up. Hannah’s grip tightened on her arm imperceptibly, denoting her friend’s instant regret at her smart remark to the temperamental coach.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you Reid. Another five laps!”

Hannah sighed and took her arm out from Cordelia’s, looking at her with an expression of irritated defeat on her pretty face. Coach Hogan didn’t appreciate the delay and took a step towards them both, her whistle grasped tightly between a thumb and forefinger.

“Don’t make me repeat myself Reid. Your father will hear of this insubordination.”

It took everything Cordelia had not to burst out laughing right there and then as she watched Hannah run back to the track and start to run at a steady pace around it in a clockwise direction. She stood there for a few minutes, her vibrant green eyes tracking Hannah’s long, lithe shadow, graceful and fluid as she ran.

I bet I don’t look like that when I run. More like a foal that hasn’t figured out how to stand up yet.

She felt her lips twitch at her inner monologue and worked hard to keep a neutral facial expression. Coach Hogan did not appreciate humour even when she was in a good mood, and though Cordelia had pity for her friend at having to run an additional five laps around the track, she did not particularly want to join her.

“Are you waiting for Christmas, Miss Prime? Unless you want to join Reid, I would suggest you go to the changing rooms and get changed.”

Cordelia did not need to be told twice. She mumbled a quiet ‘yes ma’am’ and scuttled off to the changing rooms at a brisk walk, throwing one last glance over her shoulder at Hannah who cut a lonely figure as she jogged on the tarmac.

The changing room was deserted when she got in there. She decided against having a shower in the school changing rooms. At their very cleanest they were about as enticing as eating her dinner off the floor in the mess hall. She grabbed her bag from the hook she’d left it on as she made her way past, grateful for the fact that there were toilet cubicles available now that everyone else had left.

Once she was dressed in her old band t-shirt and black cycling shorts, complete with her battered Converse shoes, Cordelia made her way out of the changing rooms and around to the front of the school compound where she had left her bike chained at the beginning of the day. 

The Autobot base was huge, easily seventeen square miles, and the quarters that she shared with Optimus were just over a quarter of a mile away.  She biked to school most days, it was an easy and efficient way to get there whilst at the same time meaning she didn’t have to rely on Optimus for lifts.

She was grateful for the base’s flat, smoothly surfaced cycle paths as she made her way leisurely back to the quarters she called home.  Her backpack was light against her back, filled with only her history assignment and the clothes she had worn for Coach’s impromptu run around the track this afternoon. 

A quick glance at her watch told her it was just after four in the afternoon.  She knew that Optimus wouldn’t be home until at least seven at the very earliest.  His average day consisted of back-to-back meetings with various human officials, appointments with government liaisons, overseeing the day-to-day running of the base and making sure that any and all potential Decepticon threats were closely monitored. 

Their shared quarters were in quiet darkness when she got there, punching the access code in that would grant her access.  She dismounted from her bike and walked it in through the ‘human’ sized door that hissed slowly open.  Everything was just as she had left it this morning, snippets of her own presence dotted about the place.

Their shared space was practical yet homely.  Directly opposite the entrance sat Optimus’ enormous desk, built to match the scale of the behemoth twenty-eight-foot tall Autobot leader.  It was constructed from various different metals, some of which had been brought by the second wave of Autobots in the Xantium and built using Cybertronian construction methods.  The chair that went with it was made from old storage containers that had been reinforced with industrial-strength concrete.  It was a sight that always made Cordelia laugh, but she was always grateful when they could work in a companiable silence together.

Her own desk sat atop his, amongst the data pads and other detritus that littered Optimus’ desk.  His was a tidy desk, but the last data pad he used was always sat near the front of his desk, away from the others that he had neatly piled up in the corner. 

A catwalk platform hugged the far right-hand wall.  It housed a small bathroom, kitchenette and an enclosed area where her wardrobe and bed were.  It was small but immensely cosy, and it was more of a home than she had ever known before.  On the left side of the room was Optimus’ berth, where he recharged once every ten days or so. 

Cordelia tucked her bike against the wall and then made her way over to the small kitchenette to grab a can of soda to keep her company while she attempted to make a start on her history assignment.  She grabbed a punnet of grapes and then hurried down the stairs of the catwalk before ascending the ladder that was attached to Optimus’ desk so that she could sit at her own and begin her work. 

The task that she had to tackle for her history assignment was to analyse the social and economical impact of the advancement of technology during the Industrial Revolution.  Cordelia was a well-rounded student and usually enjoyed history, but having to sit through the teacher’s last few lessons on this particular subject had been a difficult undertaking. 

Sighing, she settled herself at her desk and began making notes, trying to work out some kind of a structure on which to construct her essay.  

The time ticked by slowly, the background noises of the base fading into white noise that kept her company as she worked. 

Two soda cans later, she was halfway through a tedious chapter on the invention on the steam engine, and although it proved fruitless in the entertainment department, it had proven itself ripe with little snippets for her essay.  She was just in the middle of paraphrasing a particularly useful paragraph when she heard the familiar hiss of the door opening. 

She looked up in time to see Optimus walk through the door, his twenty-eight foot high frame just getting enough clearance between his ear finials and the top of the door-frame. 

She abandoned her work, springing up from the desk chair and ran over to the edge of the desk, their eyes finding each other at the same time.  A wide grin split her face in two, as it always did when she saw him. 

She got that same feeling of warmth blooming up within her from the very centre of her chest.  It seemed to spread throughout her entire body, causing the fine, baby-like hairs on her arms and the nape of her neck to stand up in accompaniment with the goosepimples that kissed the surface of her ivory skin. 

No one else on the planet, not even Leo, made her feel as safe and as loved as this gentle mech did.  It was a feeling that she cherished, and she had promised herself that she would never take it for granted, not for one single second. 

Optimus’ optics tilted upwards at their inner corners with his own small, signature smile that he seemed to bear only around her.  His footfalls sounded heavy and even on the floor, growing louder as he neared the desk. 

“Good evening my little one, how was your day today?” he asked, lowering his great bulk until he was sat comfortably before her.  He leaned his forearms on the desk, encircling her in a semi-circle of steel. 

Cordelia sat down, allowing her legs to dangle freely over the edge of the desk so that she could swing them gently to and fro.  Optimus’ optics traced her movements, bathing her in a pool of gentle blue light as his gaze settled upon her. 

“It was okay.  I managed to get some good notes done for my history assignment, although I might die of boredom before I actually manage to finish it.” 

Optimus raised an incredulous brow at her diatribe.  “Oh, that is something that I simply cannot allow to happen.  I would hate for you to perish due to lack of mental stimulation, and I know Mr Edwards for one would be absolutely devastated to be deprived of your contribution to…” he paused here, leaning forward slightly to read the mess of papers that lay upon her desk.  “…the social and economical impacts of the growing advancement of technology during the Industrial Revolution.” 

Cordelia eyed him will ill-disguised astonishment.  “Why, Optimus, it sounds like you’re being a little…sarcastic.  Don’t you know that sarcasm is the lowest form of wit?” her lips twitched as she spoke, betraying her inner mirth at their exchange of gentle banter.

Optimus canted his head to one side, feigning innocence.  “Sarcasm?  I would not dream of sinking to such a…deplorable level.  I merely speak the truth.”  His expression was a perfect poker face, giving nothing away.  Not even the covers of his ear finials were spinning. 

Cordelia could hold it in no more and burst out laughing, shaking her head in gentle disbelief at her giant guardian.  “Do you know something big guy?” she asked, wiping a stray tear from her eye once she had recovered enough from laughing to speak. 

“I am sure you will make me aware, little one,” he rumbled, his own lip plates twitching infinitesimally.  He nudged her playfully in her ribs with an index finger as he spoke, causing her to yelp out in surprise. 

She playfully swatted him away and made a fist at him, waving it backward and forwards in front of his field of vision before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“You are the biggest dork on the planet.  Literally!” She was rewarded with his low, gentle and rumbling chuckle.  It reverberated deep within her ribcage, making her feel like rippling water. 

He placed a hand palm up on the desk then, waiting for her to step on.  She did so without hesitation, her feet knowing where to step without her having to look where she was going.  She assumed her favourite position on his palm; sat down with one leg tucked beneath her and her left arm hooked around the base of his index finger. 

“I will accept that, but only from you my little one.  Only from you.”  His optics softened as he spoke, looking at her with the pure unfiltered and unconditional love that existed in such unlimited bounds between them.  “How was the rest of your day, aside from the deep trauma of nearly being bored to death by your history assignment?” 

Cordelia leaned back easily into the gentle curve of his fingers, drawing absent-minded circles into the metal of his palm with her nails. 

“Oh, it was okay.  Nothing major.  Coach tried to kill us, and Hannah got five extra laps for being a smart-ass.”  She immediately regretted her choice of words when she saw the thin set of Optimus’ mouth and the way his optics had narrowed dangerously, the dull flare of anger glowing behind his cerulean irises. 

“Coach tried to kill you?”  his voice was quieter than usual, and it sounded like he was working hard to keep control of his tone. 

Cordelia sighed and buried her face in her hands.  “Ugh, obviously she didn’t actually try to kill us.  She just made us run around the track in this heat, and I thought it was a little unfair.”  She heard the whirring and hissing of hydraulics as Optimus moved, but she didn’t raise her face from her hands.  She felt the cool touch of his index finger, prying her face away from her hands with the incredible gentleness that only he seemed to be capable of. 

“How far did she make you run?” his tone brokered no room for argument, and she knew that sidestepping the question or trying to distract him would only make him more determined than ever for a straight answer.

“It wasn’t even that far, and---”

“Cordelia.”  Her name, uttered in that no nonsense baritone of his was enough to stop her in her tracks.  Stupidly, she felt the biting sting of tears behind her eyes and blinked them away furiously, refusing to show Optimus that she was upset. 

As usual, he saw right through her façade and tenderly moved his finger until it was underneath her chin, carefully tilting her face upwards until their eyes met.  “Oh Lia, please don’t be upset, I am not angry with you.  In fact, I am not angry…merely…displeased at the thought of you needlessly expending physical energy in this heat.  I simply wish to know if Coach Hogan put you and your peers at risk; for if she has, this is an oversight that must be rectified immediately.” 

His finger moved to stroke her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, closing her eyes against his gentle affection.  She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension that had suddenly taken up residence in her trapezius and deltoid muscles.  Optimus watched her with that eternal patience that he seemed to possess in such abundance, waiting for her response as if he had simply asked her what her favourite colour was. 

She dropped her eyes from his and placed a hand on his fingertip, patting it in a way that she hoped would show him she was not upset.  Or that upset, anyway.

“She made us run five kilometres.  It wasn’t that far; I’m just being dramatic.”  She felt rather than saw the gentle ex-vent of cool air from his nose, having been cycled through the ventilation systems situated underneath his helm, the ones that helped to keep his CPU at its core temperature.

Optimus’ own shoulders relaxed by a fraction of a degree, evidenced by the quiet hissing of his hydraulics.  He was silent for a short time, although the covers of his ear finials did a quarter of a turn counterclockwise, denoting his mild annoyance. 

He pinched the bridge of his nose between a thumb and forefinger, shutting his optics for a few seconds before responding to her.  “Thank you, my little one.  While I wholly support the continual development of your physical health and education, I do not condone the needless pursuit of exercise when there is a high chance it will be detrimental due to the high temperatures that we have experienced today.” 

Cordelia smiled at him weakly and chewed on the inside of her cheek to buy herself some time.  She noticed that his pupils had grown smaller and that his brows were beginning to tilt down in his characteristic frown, forming a loose facsimile of the letter ‘V’.

“Hey, relax big guy.  You worry way too much.  We had water and she wasn’t y’know…being a total drill sergeant about it.  I’m fine, we’re all fine.” 

Optimus simulated a sigh and fixed her with that penetrating gaze of his, the one that she felt could see right through to the very depths of her soul, to the very foundations of all that made her, her.

“I trust your judgement, Cordelia.  However, it still does not sit well with me.  Are Hannah’s parents aware that she endured further physical exercise in the form of punishment?” 

Cordelia shrugged.  “I guess so.  I mean, Coach said that she would make Hannah’s father aware of her ‘insubordination’ as she called it, so yeah, I would imagine they know.  If Coach didn’t tell them yet, I know Hannah would have by now.  She’s even more dramatic than me you know.” 

That caused Optimus’ facial features to loosen, and a small smile moved his lip plates upwards at the corners, giving his face an overall more gentle and softer appearance. 

“Is that so?” he asked, clearly meaning it as a rhetorical question. 

Cordelia stuck her tongue out at him in response and he ruffled her hair playfully with his index finger. 

His face grew serious again.  “Would you allow me to speak with Coach Hogan?  I merely wish to understand her motivations for assigning the class such a task in this weather.” 

Cordelia shut her eyes, puffing out a mouthful of air from puffed up cheeks.  “Op…I’d prefer it if you didn’t.  She is…unique in her teaching methods, I’ll give you that.  But you speaking with her…it will only cause more aggravation.” 

Optimus ex-vented air from his nose again, the slightest hint of steam uncurling from his nostrils and into the open air.  “I will not apply needless blame, nor make it difficult for you and your classmates in future lessons, but” he paused, lifting a finger to stroke her cheek.  “But your safety is one of my most important priorities, Cordelia.  The thought of any harm coming to you, even harm that you may perceive as merely…minor, it pains my Spark in a way that I cannot comprehend or put into words.” 

“Oh Op, come here.”  Cordelia shuffled forwards on his palm, her arms outstretched.  He wordlessly closed the gap between them, nuzzling her face carefully with his nose.  She smiled against him and rubbed circles into his facial plating with her nails.  “I tell you what, would you be open to a compromise?”

Optimus pulled back slightly so that he could look at her properly.  “A compromise?  I will listen with an open mind little one.” 

“How about this time, you let it go, but I promise you that if Coach does anything again that I feel is…untoward or not…safe, I will tell you straight away and then you can speak with her.  Is that fair enough?” 

He regarded her with a look that could only be described as pure pride, his previously small pupils growing exponentially.  “Indeed…that sounds like a fair trade.  If you wish that to be the end of the matter, then it shall be.” 

Cordelia swallowed, suddenly overcome with a wave of emotion.  “Thank you, Optimus…for listening to me.  I can’t say how much it means to me that you do.” 

“Of course I listen to you Cordelia.  I always want you to be able to speak your mind with me.  Your viewpoint is incredibly important to me, and I will always listen to you and make sure your voice is heard.  Always.” 

Cordelia was about to reply when her stomach decided that that would be the appropriate time to emit a thunderous rumble.  She placed a hand on her abdomen, embarrassment flushing her cheeks with scarlet colour. 

Optimus raised an optic ridge at the sound, a wide smile making its way onto his face.  “I think it would be prudent to find a solution to your evident hunger, my little one.  Shall we see what you have in the cupboards?” 

.o

A dull, rumbling vibration roused Cordelia from the dregs of sleep.  She opened her eyes to the dark, murky shapes of her and Optimus’ shared quarters, her vision struggling to adjust for the first few seconds of consciousness. 

She pushed herself into a sitting position, the duvet falling from her shoulders and pooling at her waist.  Another low concussion rocked the foundations of the base, and she could have sworn she saw the bottle of water on her bedside table ripple slightly. 

The noise of the doors hissing open claimed her attention.   Optimus hurried through, the faint blue glow of his optics the only source of light in the otherwise dark room.  He had something clutched in his left hand and dropped it in front of her on the bed before wordlessly turning and retrieving a few bottles of water, tucking them into the subspace pocked on his forearm. 

The item he had dropped on her bed was a large jacket, army issue and one that looked miles too big for her.  She was about to ask him why he had given her a random jacket when the alarm began to sound.

It was low and deafening, filling her ears with its low, monotonous drone.  She didn’t need to be told twice to get dressed and hurried herself into a pair of leggings that she’d slung over the foot of her bed a day or so previously.  Next, she donned the jacket, tucking her arms into the long sleeves and having to roll them back two or three times so that her hands could actually be free.  The hem of the jacket easily fell halfway down her thighs, but that didn’t matter now. 

The next thing she was aware of was being scooped up into Optimus’ immense palm, his fingers holding her securely.  He held her close to his chest, his free hand hovering just above her.  He was in full Prime mode, his optics tight and trained on something in the near distance.  His mouth was pressed into a thin line, and just as another low explosion rocked the immediate vicinity, his battle mask slid into place across his mouth and nose. 

“Optimus, what’s happened?  What’s going on?” her voice sounded quiet and vulnerable amidst the muted booms and explosions, and Optimus armed himself with his Energon sword, clearly not wanting to take any chances. 

“The base is under attack.  I am taking you to the emergency assembly point.  It is one of the most fortified shelters on base.  You will be safe in there with the other civilians.  I am going to appoint Bumblebee to stand guard outside so that no one unauthorised can gain access.” 

He broke into a loose jog, his hold on Cordelia growing a little tighter with the increased movement.  She held onto his index fingers tightly, her own knuckles blanched white with the effort.  The base flowed along effortlessly beneath her, eaten up quickly by Optimus’ long strides.  NEST soldiers darted around like ants, gathering weapons and co-ordinating themselves into defence and attack groups. 

In what felt like no time at all, Optimus reached the entrance of the emergency shelter and dropped to his knees, a little more heavily than he usually would have done.  A tall, thick-set soldier was stationed at the door, taking a register of all who had gone inside so far.  Optimus lowered her to the ground and tipped his hand gently, allowing her to slide off his palm and onto her own two feet. 

She turned around before he had fully released her, desperate to speak with him before he went off to join the battle.  He shifted so that he was only down on one knee, leaning his weight on his forearm, resting on the other knee. 

“Go on my little one.  I will find you after this situation has been dealt with.  You’ll be safe here, I promise.”  He tenderly ran the tip of his index finger down her face as he spoke, drawing a path from her temple down to the fine line of her jaw. 

“Stay safe, promise me you’ll be safe.”  Cordelia looked up at him earnestly, not one ounce of worry for herself present in her mind.  All she could think of was that he would soon be running into a barrage of Decepticon fire.  Decepticons who did not care and who would stop at nothing until their end goal was achieved.  Whatever that end goal was. 

His battle mask retracted, and a look of gentle affection transformed his entire face.  “I promise you Cordelia, I will come back to you.  You have my word.  Now, on you go.  That’s my girl.” 

He nudged her gently towards the entrance of the shelter, anxious to get her inside.  The tall soldier reached out for her, taking her left hand in his and marking it with a messy ‘26’ in black sharpie. 

“I know who you are kid, but just in case.  Always good to have an ID system going in times like this.”  He turned to look at Optimus, standing to attention.  “Don’t worry sir, she’s in good hands here.  We’ll make sure she’s well looked after for you.” 

Optimus nodded gratefully and reached into the subspace pocket on his forearm, pinching two two-litre bottles of still water between a thumb and forefinger.  He handed them to Cordelia, his mask sliding back into place across his face. 

He rose to his full height then and sprinted off to join the fight, his heavy footfalls sending vibrations throughout her whole body.  She had no time to lament his absence as the large soldier ushered her inside, a hand on the small of her back as he guided her into the enclosed space.

“I’m Sergeant Grayson ma’am, nothing to worry about.  Prime and the Autobots will have this sorted in no time.” 

She didn’t reply but smiled at him weakly, watching him as he tipped his beret to her before going to resume his post at the entrance to the bunker.  She set the two water bottles down; evidently Optimus had not been the only one to be well prepared.  There were at least two dozen water bottles scattered throughout the small and sparsely furnished room. 

Well, at least we’re not going to go thirsty, she thought wryly, turning in a slow circle to take stock of her new surroundings.  The room itself was basic and clinical in every sense of the word.  Grey was the colour of choice for everything in the room, the only variation being different shades of the same colour. 

Her eyes scanned the room for Hannah.  Hannah’s barracks were in Zone D, the same zone in which she and Optimus’ shared quarters were located.  Hannah’s parents would not be in the shelter, her father would be co-ordinating with the other NEST personnel and her mother would be on standby in case of any unexpected casualties. 

Cordelia recognised some girls from her class at school and smiled at them with that surface level smile saved for casual acquaintances, but did not go over to speak to them.  She was too preoccupied with trying to find Hannah. 

The bunker was filling up fast, and though Cordelia recognised a lot of the faces that were pouring in, none of them were Hannah’s.  She decided to go and check the single toilet in case Hannah was in there, a growing sense of unease gnawing in the pit of her stomach over the whereabouts of her friend. 

Panic grew within her, slowly at first as the minutes ticked by without any sign of Hannah.  As time passed, her heart began to hammer more forcefully in her chest, beating a jumpy staccato against her ribcage.  Saliva pooled in her mouth as nausea claimed ownership over her stomach, threatening to eject her evening meal.  She focused on taking deep breaths in through her nose, and letting them slowly out through her mouth, attempting to replicate the gentle thrumming of Optimus’ Spark in her head.

Dull explosions continued in the distance, muffled by the bunker’s thick, reinforced concrete walls.  Cordelia weaved her way through the bodies that were pressed together once more, making sure she hadn’t missed Hannah in all the chaos.  After another two laps around the room, Cordelia was certain that Hannah was not anywhere within the compact throng of people. 

She positioned herself close to the entrance, waiting for the opportune moment to sneak out.  Sergeant Grayson was preoccupied with checking another few people into the building, marking the back of their hands in black sharpie as he had done with her.  Bumblebee was standing with his back to her, concentrating on a data pad he had clutched in one hand. 

Keeping herself tucked close against the wall, she allowed herself to be moved along with the constant current of flowing bodies, seamlessly blending in with everyone else.  The late-night air was mild, yet significantly cooler than the day’s blistering forty-degree heat.  Cordelia could smell hints of hibiscus and coconut palm on the sea breeze, a stark contrast to the muted booms that were coming from the south. 

Cordelia wasted no time, breaking into a brisk jog, heading straight for the barracks that Hannah shared with her parents.  It took her only minutes to get there, the non-descript building looking as it always had done, sitting innocently amongst the other barracks. 

The ground vibrated subtly beneath her with yet another explosion as she approached the front door and gave two loud raps with her knuckles.  She was met with nothing but eery silence. 

A few tense seconds ticked by as Cordelia felt her mouth grow drier as more and more time passed by.  She had just raised her hand to knock once more when the door was thrown open, causing her to take an involuntary step backwards.   

Hannah half fell out of the door, her dark wavy hair dishevelled and pointing in all directions.  She looked up then, her eyes meeting Cordelia’s. 

“Hey!  What are you doing here?  Come on, we need to get going!  My dad’s just rung me and told me that the ‘cons have attacked the main emergency shelter!  He told me to go straight to the command centre!” 

She gave Cordelia no chance to reply but grabbed her by the right wrist and started pulling her along in the direction of the command centre.  The command centre sat in the very centre of the base itself, the main hub of activity and communication for all who lived and worked on Diego Garcia.  Optimus spent most of his time there and when Cordelia had caught up on her schoolwork, she often spent the evenings there keeping him company while he finished up the fiddlier parts of his day. 

Cordelia struggled to keep up with Hannah’s longer stride, pumping her legs to make up for the lack of distance that she covered compared to her friend.  Hannah’s grip on her wrist was hard, and despite the relative mildness of the late night, her skin was cold to the touch. 

A low, whistling sound distracted Cordelia from her second sprint in less than twenty-four hours and she lifted her head to find the source of the sound.  A projectile was heading straight for them.  Whether it was a bullet or a missile, Cordelia could not tell.  All she was aware of was the sound growing louder and louder, reminiscent of a low growl as it got closer and closer to the two girls. 

Cordelia tried to pull Hannah out of the way of the incoming danger, but it was like trying to pull a brick wall down with her bare hands.  Hannah did not yield to her by one single inch.  Time seemed to slow as the projectile dropped in altitude, looking to make landfall right in their path. 

Then, just at the very last minute, a huge slab of concrete was thrown over their heads and into the trajectory of the ballistic.  The force of the following explosion knocked both Cordelia and Hannah off their feet, the world temporarily turning upside down as they flew through the air before falling back to earth with a sickening crunch. 

In the back of her mind, where rational thought still resided, Cordelia was mildly impressed that Hannah had managed to keep a hold of her wrist, fingers biting into her skin in a manner that bordered on painful. 

As she landed, her left arm bent underneath her at an unnatural angle and she felt a tangible crack before a jolt of severe pain shot down through her entire arm.  She barely had time to register what had happened before an enormous black, metallic foot slammed down mere inches from where she and Hannah were laying. 

Her eyes traced up the leg to which the foot was attached, and she felt her heart leap into her mouth as her eyes locked onto the scarlet optics of Barricade.  His mouth turned upwards in a cruel smirk as he bent down, a hand outstretched. 

Again, Cordelia tried to roll out of the way and pull Hannah with her, but Hannah didn’t budge.  She appeared to be completely immobile, seemingly rendered into shock by what was going on around them.  She pulled once more, wincing through clenched teeth as another jolt of pain shot up through her arm. 

Barricade’s outstretched hand was drawing ever nearer, and Cordelia scrunched her eyes tightly shut, sending a fervent prayer of love to Optimus, hoping that on some visceral level, he would be aware of it before her life was snuffed out by the encroaching Decepticon. 

At the last possible minute, another hulking black mass, this time flecked through with bits of gunmetal grey, hurtled through the air and straight into Barricade. 

The two titans’ bodies met in an explosion of sparks and metal screeching against metal, the sound almost painful.  Ironhide rolled to absorb the impact of his leap and before Barricade could get to his feet, swung his right arm and delivered a swift uppercut to the Decepticon’s jaw that sent him flying once more.  In a move so fast she couldn’t follow it with her eyes, Ironhide armed himself and unleashed a storm of bullets down on Barricade, pinning him to the ground. 

Chunks of concrete littered the air, falling like rain.  Hannah suddenly found herself again and pulled Cordelia easily to her feet and once more in the direction of the command centre.  Barricade was starting to retaliate against Ironhide’s relentless attack, but not before the Weapons Specialist turned his head in the girls’ direction. 

“What the frag are you doing out here?!  Get to the shelter – NOW!”

In any other situation, Cordelia would have found Ironhide’s tone of voice terrifying, however, it was not his tone of voice that terrified her, rather than the fact that he himself sounded terrified.

Hannah forced her legs into motion once more, pulling her along with a renewed sense of urgency and strength.  Cordelia had no choice but to be towed along by the stronger girl, her own feet pounding on the floor twice as much as Hannah’s to make up for the difference in their strides. 

Cordelia could smell the acrid scent of gunfire and scorched metal in the air, the night sky lighting up intermittently with explosions that rocked the world all around her.  She tried to concentrate on nothing except her own footfalls, trying to count along to a beat in her head. 

Behind them, Ironhide was still going toe-to-toe with Barricade, the vibrations from the force of their clash travelling through the ground and up into her body.  Her eyes widened when she saw Optimus directly in front of them, locked in a fierce brawl with no other than Soundwave. 

Fear clenched around Cordelia’s heart, her vision tunnelling until Optimus and Soundwave were the only things that she was aware of.  Her eyes tracked every iota of Optimus’ movements.  The way he lifted his left arm to block a blow from Soundwave and the way that he countered with a swift kick to the Decepticon’s chest before unleashing a powerful blast from his Ion Blaster, sending Soundwave flying through the air. 

Before Soundwave could get up, Optimus transformed into his vehicle mode and covered ground faster than Cordelia had ever seen him move before, crashing into Soundwave with a force that she felt in her bones.  Optimus executed a swift handbrake turn, halting Soundwave’s progress in getting back to his feet with his back fender, putting the Decepticon on his back once more.

Metal screeched against the floor with a ferocity that set Cordelia’s teeth on edge, her legs momentarily slowing to follow the progress of the battle.  Optimus transformed back to his bipedal mode, his foot slamming down onto Soundwave’s chest. 

Even from this distance, Cordelia could hear the groaning of Soundwave’s frame under Optimus’ immense weight as the larger and heavier Autobot leader bore down on the smaller Decepticon.  Soundwave lifted his head from the floor then, his crimson optics locked on the two girls running straight for them. 

Cordelia snapped back into reality then, digging her heels into the ground in an effort to slow Hannah down, pulling back at the same time.  This time, Hannah responded to the resistance and turned to look at Cordelia, a confused frown creasing her face. 

“We’re going the wrong way!” Cordelia shouted, pulling Hannah in the direction of the command centre.  Once again, Hannah was unyielding, seemingly totally unaffected by Cordelia’s attempts to get her to change direction.

“No, you’re wrong!  Massster says I must bring you this way.”  Hannah’s voice was toneless and devoid of any discernible emotion. 

Ice shot through Cordelia’s veins, paralysing her to the spot.  Her heart pounded furiously in her chest, in perfect time with the beat of blood in her eardrums that momentarily deafened her. 

“What-what do you mean?  The command centre is this way!” Cordelia could hardly hear her own voice over the cacophony of gunfire and metallic scraping. 

A horrific grin split Hannah’s face, metamorphosing it into someone that Cordelia did not recognise.  Bile rose up into her throat as she watched Hannah’s skin bubble and recede to reveal a purplish metallic surface, its plates shifting and rearranging until all traces of Hannah had been erased.  In her place stood a Decepticon at a height of around six feet, eerily similar to the Decepticon Frenzy. 

His face still bore that sinister grin, an evil laugh bubbling up from somewhere within him.  Now completely rid of his human disguise, he coiled his spindly limbs around her, ignoring her shouts of pain when he pinned her broken arm to her side with ease. 

He lifted her as if she was nothing more than a bag of shopping, slinging her roughly over his shoulder in a loose approximation of a fireman’s carry.  He sprinted toward Optimus and Soundwave, intent on delivering her to the superior Decepticon Commander. 

Optimus’ head snapped up then, his optics dilating with pure, undiluted fear as his gaze locked onto Cordelia.  Time seemed to slow between them as he launched himself off Soundwave, simultaneously transforming into his vehicle mode as he did so. 

He landed roughly on the ground, his suspension taking the brunt of the impact.  There was about 150 metres between them and his 425-horsepower engine ate up the distance as if it were nothing at all.  In less time than it took for her to draw another panicked breath into her lungs, Optimus was upon them, transforming back to his robot mode with a graceful flourish. 

He skidded forward on one knee, his left hand outstretched.  His fingers wrapped around the pair of them, lifting them from the ground with ease.  The fingers of his right-hand sought purchase on Rumble’s body, easily prising him away from Cordelia.  Rumble thrashed furiously in Optimus’ grasp, but it was futile.  Cordelia watched wide-eyed as Optimus’ fingers closed around the mini-con, effortlessly crushing him until he was nothing but a twisted mass of bent metal and sparking circuits. 

Optimus dropped him and cradled Cordelia protectively to his chest, lifting his head just in time to see Soundwave and Barricade hobble through the dying light of a groundbridge, disappearing into a swirling vortex of blue-green light. 

His optics fixed her in his steady gaze, still at their widest aperture despite the Decepticons’ retreat.  She felt the light tickle of a scan before his fingers palpated her body with the utmost gentleness, doubtless checking her for injuries.  He stopped abruptly when he got to her left arm, feeling the injury that she had sustained there.

“You’re hurt,” he muttered, rising to his full height and moving toward the med bay decisively.  “I’m taking you to Ratchet.”   

Cordelia suddenly found her words as she was carried over the remnants of the brief but intense battle, NEST personnel outing out stray fires here and there that dotted the immediate vicinity. 

“Optimus, wait, wait!  We need to find Hannah, she’s in trouble!” 

That pulled him up short.  A confused look crossed his features, moving the mosaic of his facial plating into a serious frown.  “Cordelia, Hannah is safe with her mother in the triage centre.  She’s helping with first aid.” 

Multiple feelings of simultaneous relief and disbelief flooded Cordelia’s psyche at the same time.  Immense gratitude for the knowledge that her friend was safe and away from danger, closely followed by the embarrassment realising she had fallen for the guise of a Decepticon Pretender. 

“Shh, it’s alright.  Come on, let’s get you patched up.”  No further words were exchanged between them as Optimus ducked to go through the doors of the med-bay. 

.o

Ratchet treated her arm quickly and efficiently, informing her and Optimus that it was a clean break and that she’d need to be in a cast for the next six weeks.  Other than that, he said, it should heal without complications and function as it had before, albeit with an added weakness. 

He’d shaken his head good naturedly at her as his nimble fingers wrapping the plaster of Paris around her arm with ease, saying “always the left arm with you!” 

She’d sat silently on the berth in the med-bay, Optimus sitting wordlessly beside her as Ratchet worked.  Once he was finished, Ratchet had gone to assist the other Autobots with repairs, setting up his own triage system in the neighbouring hangar. 

After Ratchet left, the silence was unbearable.  Neither Optimus nor Cordelia said anything, both too shell-shocked by what had just happened to form any coherent sentences.  Cordelia wasn’t aware of how many minutes ticked by, but she could not find it within herself to look at Optimus.  She did not want to see the weight of the disappointment in his gaze or feel the sense of shame anymore than she already was. 

She fiddled with the edge of her cast, tapping her nails on the fresh plaster.  Her blood beat furiously in her ears, audible evidence of time’s unwelcome passage.  She was aware of Optimus sitting next to her on the berth, her gaze fixed pointedly on his feet.  There was a good ten feet between the berth and the floor below, and Cordelia debated how likely it was that she would sustain another injury if she attempted to jump off the berth.  She was sitting on the edge, her legs dangling over from the knee. 

She shifted forward a few inches, mentally psyching herself up to make the jump.  It wasn’t that high, not really.  She’d fallen from higher places and not had injuries that had been too serious. 

However, before she could move forward another centimetre, she felt a gentle pressure around her waist and looked down to see Optimus’ digits there, wrapping around her middle and lifting her carefully into the air, mindful to avoid her broken arm. 

Her hands instinctively held onto his index finger as she was raised higher into the air.  Still, she did not look him in the eye as he transferred her onto the palm of his left hand and dominant hand of choice, raising her up to his eye level. 

The atmosphere between them was thick with unexpressed tension, weighing down heavily on the pair of them.  Cordelia could hear the increased volume of air being taken in through the vents on the back of Optimus’ head, cycling through his intakes quicker than usual and being ex-vented as a lukewarm steam that she could feel on her face and the nape of her neck.

Her chin dropped to her chest, her heart beating a furious tattoo behind her ribs.  Her hands shook slightly, and she clenched them into tight fists in an effort to stop it, her nails biting into her palm painfully.  Too late, she realised that was the wrong thing to do as a fierce pain travelled up her left arm, reminding her of the break Ratchet had just treated. 

“Shit!”

She shot up into a standing position on Optimus’ palm, cradling her injured arm against her chest.  Optimus did not reprimand her for swearing, or indeed say anything at all, but she could feel the weight of his gaze on her.  She could hear the quiet click of his optics as he blinked and the whir of their housings as he tracked her frenzied movement across his palm. 

She peeked over the edge of his hand to see how high she was, her heart sinking when she realised, she would not simply be able to slide off.  A louder intake of air finally made her look up, the sight that met her eyes making her wish immediately that she hadn’t. 

Optimus’ face was a mask of inscrutable emotion, save for the set of his optic ridges.  They were tilted upwards by a fraction of an inch, denoting only a hint of the feeling swirling within him.  He regarded her for a long time, his blue optics unblinking.  She could not hold his gaze and dropped her eyes back down, tears threatening.

“By the AllSpark Cordelia…what could have possibly been going through your head to make you think that running into the middle of a battle was a good idea?” his voice rose slightly at the end, betraying the effort he was going to to keep his emotions in check. 

Cordelia could find no words to answer him at first, the confirmation of his disappointment in her too heavy to bear.  Her bottom lip quivered as treacherous tears fell, dropping soundlessly onto Optimus’ metallic palm.  She worked hard to control her breathing, not wanting it to run away from her. 

God, at least let me keep control over one damned thing!

“Cordelia?” he pressed her gently, evidently not taking the silent treatment for an answer. 

She took a deep breath, trying to arrange her thoughts into something legible so that she could understand them, not at least to convey them to Optimus. 

“I…I thought Hannah was in trouble, so I went looking for her.  I snuck out of the shelter, and I went to her barracks.  She was there and she said that the emergency shelter had been attacked and that her dad had said to go to the command centre.  I didn’t see any reason as to why it wouldn’t be true…there was nothing.”  More tears fell, punctuating her answer with the sad burden of Optimus’ evident frustration. 

“Cordelia, the base is filled with experienced and trained personnel who would have located Hannah if she was in any sort of trouble.  It is not your job to go looking for people who might be in danger!  Do you realise what could have happened today?” 

A sudden flame of anger ignited within her, burning through any shame she had previously felt. 

“Of course I realise what could have happened!” she hissed, taken aback by the venom in her own voice, but it was not enough to stop her.  “Don’t you think I know what could happen every single, solitary day?!  A Decepticon could drop a rocket on my head, a new liaison could order me away or put me into federal custody at any moment because of my connection to all of this!” she threw her hands up into the air, her anger snowballing.

“I have to watch you throw yourself into danger nearly every other day, not knowing if you’re going to come back!  So yeah, even if I am on a base with ‘experienced and trained personnel’, I will get involved if I think it is going to make a difference to a friend of mine!” 

Optimus showed no outward signs of responding to her outburst, his face infuriatingly calm. 

“Cordelia, when I adopted you three years ago, I took on a responsibility for your safety and well-being.”  He paused, letting his words hang in the air between them.  She felt the solemnity of his words in the deep cadence of his sonorous baritone. 

She said nothing in response, motioning with a small nod of her head for him to continue. 

“You are not yet eighteen, and as such, I have a legal, moral and ethical responsibility to you.  That includes but is not limited to your physical, mental and emotional health.  That was an oath I made to you and an oath I intend to keep until you send me away or I am no longer physically capable of doing so. 

“You are a choice that I make every single day, Cordelia.  I make this choice partly out of a sense of duty, but above all, because I love you, so so much.  And by law, you are my responsibility.” 

Despite the outpouring of love she felt coming from him, her temper flared again, pushed over the edge by his leaning on legalities to enforce his protectiveness.  Blood filled her cheeks as her heart rate soared, fuelling the fire that had already been stoked deep within her belly. 

“For god’s sake Optimus!!” she shouted, her voice full of indignant anger.  “I am not one of your soldiers!” 

He held her in his steady gaze, nothing but pure love emanating from his optics.  He was silent for a short time, the only sound between them her panting breaths as she tried to regain some sense of control over her wayward emotions. 

“Exactly.”  He said softly, a quiet reverence present in his gentle tone.  “You are my daughter, and infinitely more precious than a mere soldier.” 

His words pulled her up short, her anger extinguished as suddenly as it had been ignited.  She struggled to process his words, understanding the meaning behind them but not fully taking them in.  She had spent so much of her life hiding from pain and terror that accepting love, even though she had been with Optimus for three years now, still did not come naturally to her.

“You are my daughter, Cordelia,” he repeated, bringing her closer to his face.  “And because of that, I will do everything in my power to protect you.” 

Those words broke through the last of Cordelia’s feeble defences, and she crumbled into a heap on his palm, quiet sobs erupting out of her, as raw and unstoppable as a broken dam. 

“Optimus, what can I give you in return?  You are everything I’m not!  You are selfless, loyal, brave and the kindest soul I have ever met!  I can’t hold a candle to you.  I don’t know why you chose me, because you chose wrong.  You should have just let me fall and saved yourself all of this regret!” 

Her head dropped to her chest again, heavy with the weight of shame that had abruptly resurfaced. 

She felt the cool metal of his fingertip underneath her chin, tilting her face upwards to meet his gaze. 

“I must respectfully disagree with you, my little one.  I chose you because I love you.  I protect you because I love you.  More than you can possibly comprehend.  And as for what you give me in return; you give it to me every day.  You give it to me with the beat of your heart, with your infectious smile.  With the faith and trust you choose to place in me, day after day.” 

He dipped his head forward so that they were leaning forehead to forehead, despite their size difference.  She could feel the subtle vibrations of his inner workings and the deliciously cool sensation of his metal skin against her own flushed face helped her to ground herself. 

“And most of all, you have awarded me with the intimate trust of someone who I can simply be ‘Optimus’ with, as opposed to ‘Optimus Prime.’  You have shown me a part of myself I had long thought dead; the Optimus who remembers without regret.  The Optimus who leads without shame.  The Optimus who hopes for the future that we can build together.  Cordelia – there is no greater gift to be given among Sparks than that of hope – for hope can light even the darkest hour.  And where there is life, there is always, always hope.  I do not, for one, single astro-second regret saving you, and I never will.” 

He pulled back from her slightly, only to press his metallic lip plates tenderly to her forehead and press a paternal kiss there, one that spoke of the reverence and love which he held in such abundance for her. 

She looked up at him tearfully, wiping her eyes with the back of her right hand.  “I’m sorry Optimus, I didn’t mean to get angry with you.  Thank you…for always being there for me.  It means more to me than I know how to say.” 

He held her close, bringing his free hand up to support the one he held her in.  “Oh my little one.  You never need thank me.  Losing you is simply not an option.  It is something that I absolutely cannot allow to happen.  Not now or at any point in the future.” 

She allowed herself to be wrapped in the safety of his love, content just to enjoy the moment in the here and now with him, her heart happy in the knowledge that she was perfectly safe with the Autobot leader who had given her everything she had long thought lost to her. 

[hedgehog-moss]

I had one of those dreams last night where you make a friend and then wake up and miss your dream-friend... I dreamt that I found an adorable creature in the stream near my house, it looked like a little manta ray but with a hard and scaly back like an armadillo. It was like a tiny marine dinosaur and I lovingly carried it back home and put it in the greenhouse fish tank. I named it Creil-Creil because that was the sound it made when it pondered things while gnashing its little teeth. Then it started mind-controlling me—Creil-Creil liked hot water so twice a day I poured oil into the fish tank and set it on fire. Some of my plants caught fire and my mum said, are you sure you want to keep doing this? And I was like yeah!! who needs plants in a greenhouse Mum. 

Then I realised (in a spike of terror that almost woke me up) that I had never fed the poor thing and didn’t know what she ate (aside from all my fish) and I suddenly felt extremely keen to invite people to visit. Visitors came, and my new aquatic best friend ate their hands. I mean I kept bringing people near the tank and saying “feel free to pet her!” and petting her myself while she creil-creiled happily and then people petted her and she leapt out of the water and bit off one of their hands (rarely both, which felt considerate), and then I brought the next person. Many more awful things happened and in the end Creil-Creil became very hated (not by me, I loved her); I had villagers with pitchforks wanting to kill her and signing petitions, and then! Pandolf got stuck in a badger’s hole and she crawled out of her fish tank and dug him out with her little claws, so she became a hero. I was so happy, everyone was cheering her (not clapping, on account of all the missing hands.) You can tell my brain was desperate to get people to love this poor misunderstood little evil thing so it went like..... and then she saved a dog’s life!!! The end <3

[xoioel]

Momo is overwhelmed because of her upcoming comeback w/ twice, so reader decides to help her relieve some stress by giving her a BJ (g!p momo of course) thank you!

➤ RELAX

parings: Momo x Reader

genre: SMUT

warnings: SMUT, soft dom momo, power bottom reader, blowjobs, crying, choking, spit kink, cowgirl, creampie

note: love this request!! ;) and i added a lil bit of reader riding momo just because momo deserves it 😘😻 ive never wrote soft dom before bc i love getting treated like a slut

Hearing someone slam the door, you makes your way down the stairs to see your girlfriend has come home. Boo and Dolby ran to the door to see their owner has come back home. She looked very exhausted and tired after she just finished promoting set me free and now she gas to promote hare hare and prepare for the world tour, So she was ready to just sleep

But you forgot that you were only wearing shorts and a bra which flipped a switch in Momo, She grabbed you and pinned you on the wall and began to hungrily kiss you, Shes moaning into the kiss. You bit her lip fighting for dominance as you stuck your tongue in her mouth. Now out of breath you pull back to get some air. “Missed you sooo much y/n” Momo says face flushed and out of breath.

You kissed her again but this time you pulled her closer and began to grind on her as you both make out. You felt Momos boner on your leg as you continued to grind up on her, she pulled away and makes her way up the stairs grip tight on your hand treating you very harshly as she drags you about. Reaching the bed in the middle of the bedroom she turns to you, gaze hard eyes filled with dominance and lust.

“On your knees y/n.”

She doesn’t even wait for you to respond, before shes pushing you to the floor. Sitting on your knees you look up just in time to see her pull her cock out. Her hard painfully cock pulsating in her hand as she reached for your braids; grabbing it and harshly pulling on your braids as she thrusts into your open mouth.

A satisfied groan leaves her lips as she throws her head back, fingers tightly grabbing the sheets while her other hand has a firm grip on your hair keeping you in place. Her hips thrusting wild and without rhythm as she abuses your throat in chase of her release.

Your gags only spiring her on as saliva begins to drip down your neck, tears streaming down your face at the brutality of her thrusts. Its only when she feels you swallow around her cock that she reaches the edge, so close to falling into a pit of pleasure.

“f-fuck i-im going to cum” Momo says in broken moans. She thrusts fast, blabbering in Japanese as she chases her high. Her eyes roll to the back of her head with a final snap of her hips and she cums, her cock buried deep inside your throat. You swallow all of her cum before showing her that you swallowed it all. You catch your breath, reveling in her reddened cheeks and heaving chest.

Straddling her petite form, you tease her once more; rubbing yourself against her cock and watching as her gaze turns to one of ice. It’s only now you see a glimpse of the sexy woman she is to everyone else on stage, her expression that of a devil as a growl rips through her throat. Momo’s desperation had never been so evident, rutting into you from below at an attempt of slipping inside, biting her lip so hard it looked as if it might tear.

“I swear to fucking god, if you don’t-“ You finally lower yourself onto her cock and her ramblings are cut off by her own lewd whine, brows knitting together in the centre as the look on her face turns to one of pure ecstasy. Momo’s brain goes blank for a few moments, unabashed whimpers leaving her pretty lips.

Slowly moving yourself up and down on her cock, you bask in the way she’s shivering beneath you; her plump chest rising and falling quickly as her breaths become more uneven. Momo’s mumbling an array of praises and thank you’s.

“Unnie? tell me whats going on in your head, because youve been tense this whole time and i want you to relax” You say as Momo continued to moan very porn like.

“I- I’ve been soo stressed out with- fuckkk~ with relearning choreography and new choreography and- go har-harder please~ i just need a break,” Momo’s eyes lock with yours as she begins to tell you what’s wrong, “Please, don’t…stop.” You increase your speed, bouncing swiftly on her lap and pulling her head back by her hair. Momo’s eyes roll back once again at the mix of pain and pleasure, throwing her over the edge unexpectedly as she cries out, “ngh- shit, oh fuck i’m gonna cum.”

You smirk and tilt your head, pouting a little, “Can you hold on a little longer for me, hm? I know you can do it good girl.” The use of the title makes her tense up and she nods, squeezing her hands together behind her back as she holds off her impeding orgasm with all her might. You curse as you also feel your climax nearing and Momo’s eyes widen, a fire blazing in her chest at the thought of making you cum around her cock.

You’re rutting your hips against Momo’s as she whimpers your name; dangerously on the brink of her orgasm while she begs you to cum for her, “Please, baby, I need to feel it - Need to feel you, mmm, ngh- Cum for me.”

Seeing Momo like this is as close to heaven as you’ll get, the way she moans your name like a mantra and her sinful expression twists with pleasure is truly your nirvana. It sends you over the edge and you see white, blinded by the hot pleasure coursing through your veins. Just before you lose all cognitive thought to the ecstasy, you make sure to order Momo through your moans, “Cum for me, jaji.” You barely finish the command before Momo’s filling you up, crying out and shivering uncontrollably beneath you.

But the night doesnt end here.. Because you have to make sure your girlfriend is relaxed

[anxiousnerdwritings]

(Based off of something I mentioned in this ask)

Oh Deary,

I’m so sorry. So so so very sorry. I hadn’t ever meant any harm when I signed that god forsaken petition but when Arthur had come home one day from work and mentioned that there was word of an obscurus going around I panicked. Not only that but that the obscurus was going to be brought in to take a position at Hogwarts, among our children. A flurry of fear, worry and outrage was going around regarding the whole situation but Arthur wasn’t worried about it. He had trust in Albus and if Albus was invested in it then it couldn’t be nearly as awful as everyone was making it seem. And I should have shared that same trust but I couldn’t. Not when my children were involved. I had let fear and anxiety regarding the topic consume me and I took action against Arthur’s reassurance. And I took action against you without even knowing.

My main concern had been for my children and their safety. That was all I could think of. And honestly, I had felt so much relief after I signed that petition that I hadn’t thought twice about it again. I had taken action and with knowing that I did something for the sake of my children, I felt content.

When the new school year started, one of he first things Percy did was notify us that there was indeed an obscurus at Hogwarts and made part of the staff, assisting the groundskeeper with bits and bobs. And also about how Fred and George had taken to befriending the said obscurus. I had immediately been plagued with that same feeling of worry and anxiety all over again. Of course, Fred and George would do something like that! But as I continued to read Percy’s letter he spoke so positively about the obscurus, about you.

You were nothing like anyone had presumed you to be or made you seem, you were someone just surviving and living with what they had been dealt with. Given what all Percy was saying, I felt all the overwhelming and intense emotions fleeting away. I was glad he could shine some light on this situation and give us some ease to know that all our children were going to be safe and sound.

It wasn’t too long after we received Percy’s letter that we had gotten Fred and George’s letters as well. And their letters certainly made a whole lot of difference to me. They spoke so adoringly of you. It was obvious just how much the two had taken to you and that they were clinging on to you as much as they could. I could feel my own joy bubbling up inside me as I continued to read through their words. But it wasn’t until I saw the pictures that the twins had sent along with their letters that I felt my heart clench. There were a few different pictures of the twins, Ron, Harry, Lee Jordan, and a few others, but it was the ones that had my boys and a new face that garnered my attention.

Reading the back of the photographs I learned that this new face was you. That’s when I learned that you weren’t even all that much older than my own children, you looked to be around Bill and Charlie’s age. I couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that washed over me in that moment. You were still a child yourself, it didn’t matter how self sufficient you were or that you were taking on an adult role as a staff member at Hogwarts. You were a child.

The obscurus everyone had been so fearful and worried about, the same obscurus I had been so terrified to have my children around, was only a child themself. I took part to get rid of you at Hogwarts. I took action in trying to rip apart the only piece of acceptance or belonging you would ever experience. I had a hand in taking everything away from you; a home, a livelihood, friends, mentors, a family. I couldn’t believe I took part in something that would have such a drastic impact on you when you were only trying to exist.

I had sobbed all night after coming to realize what exactly my taking part in that petition would come to mean. I know Albus had put a stop to it pretty early on but who knew what the repercussions of it would mean if you or anyone else came across it. Every part of me wanted to apologize to you right then and there after coming to realize everything but I didn’t know how. So, all I could muster myself to do was tell Fred and George to invite you to join us for the next upcoming year’s holiday break. I would welcome you into our home, into our family with warm open arms.

When the holiday break came rolling around and the fated day you would be arriving was growing nearer and nearer, I was running around trying to make everything perfect. It wasn’t though, nothing ever really was perfect in our home but I tried and when you got here you were an absolute delight. You didn’t mind anything and were more than happily content with our home and what it had to offer. You had just been so excited to be invited over at all and that made me want to envelope you in all the love I had to give.

I had decided from that moment that you were completely and utterly, irrevocably a part of our lives. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. Fred, George, Ron, Harry, Ginny, Arthur and even Percy all adored you to no end. And I couldn’t help but to do the same. In such a short amount of time you became something truly special to us all.

…Only for it to all come crashing down…

I’m not even sure if you will bother reading this but I just want you to know how truly sorry I am, (Name). I don’t know how that petition got to you or where it came from given that Albus had gone to great lengths to erase any trace of it, but I am so sorry you had to see it. I can’t ever forgive myself for my actions and the fact that they have caused you so much hurt. I don’t expect you to forgive me either but please don’t hold anything against the kids. They are all so worried about you since you left Hogwarts. The other teachers at the school have also shared their overwhelming concern for you given that you haven’t answered anyone’s letters. Even, Albus hasn’t heard from you for awhile, it’s even been rumored that you up and left the place he had made a home just for you and that has him noticeably anxious. Not to mention, Hagrid isn’t holding up all too well either.

Please, I know I’m not one to ask anything of you especially not now, but would you please let someone, anyone know that you are okay. And if you’re not then please tell us. We just want to know what’s going on and that you’re safe. Please.

With love,

Molly

[mariacallous]

As an american it's so damn frustrating all the choices political leaders here keep making

Aid blocked for 6 months single handedly by johnson while other gop members said they supported Ukraine but refused to sign the discharge petition (and then everyone praises johnson for his "bravery" as if he doesn't have oceans of blood on his hands for that delay)

Biden and the white house wringing their hands over allowing Ukraine to use US weapons on valid military targets getting even more people killed

Which, purely from a selfish point of view, all these choices not only kill Ukrainians, but they also weaken the US geopolitically by making use look like an unreliable partner (because we're being an unreliable partner). Even if you don't care about innocent people dying, a lot of these people care about China, and... do you think it's appealing to our pacific allies to work with us when they see us leaving Ukraine out to dry?

Do you think maybe Taiwan might end up thinking "ok, but will they send the military or will they bicker internally for 6 months?"

It's a disgrace, especially when the most humanitarian thing to do of properly arming Ukraine is also the most self interested thing the US could do and yet we still refuse to do it

Decimating the army of a major geopolitical rival by sending old equipment that we were probably going to have to dispose of soon, spending a minuscule fraction of the US federal budget for massive benefits to the US ranging from dealing serious damage to russia and deterring China, all while not risking any american troops... and we still can't be bothered to do it?

It's... it's just shameful. Makes us look like a joke, makes us look undependable, makes it hard to want to work with us when our own infighting gets in the way of us meeting our commitments

Disgraceful how the policy makers in the US have handled things

...I seriously think that if the US had basically opened the floodgates on support from the start it could have been so much cheaper for us while getting less Ukrainians killed... might have actually made russia think twice if as soon as they invaded they saw massive amounts of military aid in the pipeline... but no, we've been drip feeding it and for all the words about "as long as it takes" we refuse to actually do that

Anyway, sorry about this ask. Just... sometimes I see people make post about Ukraine and... there's not a lot of people I can talk with about this stuff who'll actually listen over here, they don't seem to get how important this is not just in terms of... what's good for us and good for the world, but just... innocent people are dying, people are dying trying to defend their homes because we won't give them the tools they need to defend themselves... and that really really bothers me cause I have a shred of humanity but... but not a lot of other people here seem to get that

Hope you're having as good a day as possible

I agree with you and it's so sad and sobering that there are many who don't see it this way.

[melanieph321]

Ruben Dias - Lost in Sardinia Part 1/8

Firstly I'd like to thank everyone who helped me pick the name of the heroine in this story, I had so many to choose from. However, my co-author has spoken and Fiorella will be her name.

Thanks again and enjoy! ❤️

Fiorella beat the sunrise as she was already out of bed. She draped on the summerdress she wore yesterday, picturing her nonna's taunting voice, "Ladies never wear the same attire twice Fiorella. It's important that you learn this if you wish to find a man to marry someday."

To that Fiorella would say, "Nonna, does a man wish to marry a dress or the woman wearing the dress?"

"Don't be silly Rella, a man is marrying the woman wearing the dress."

"That decides it then. I will marry a man wearing nothing but my birthday suit. That way I'll be sure he's marrying me and only me."

Her grandmother would then shush her out of the house, muttering "That girl. Why can't she be more like her sisters?"

Fiorella tipped her way down the stairs in an attempt not to wake her family. Her black labrador, Pluto, raised his head at the sight of her.

"It's time, Pluto." She whispered.

He rose to his paws, tail swiping in the air with his excitement. The two left the house, Fiorella on her bike with Pluto running alongside it.

Fiorella had always loved the thrill of diving into the crystal-clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea. Growing up in a tiny village on the west coast of Sardinia, she had spent countless hours exploring the underwater world, searching for hidden treasures and discovering the secrets of the sea.

On this sparkling morning, as the sun began to rise, Fiorella ventured into the depths once again, her heart filled with the excitement of what she might find. As she weaved through the swaying seagrass and the playful fish, she spotted a small boat floating above her. Curiosity piqued, Fiorella swam closer, her dark curls trailing behind her like ribbons in the water. She peeked above the surface and saw a man sitting in the boat. He appeared to be gazing intently at the horizon, lost in his own thoughts. Fiorella surfaced gently, trying not to startle the man. She suspected him to be a tourist, drawn to the beauty of her village's coast. But as she swam closer and looked upon his striking features, she knew he was no ordinary visitor. His hazel eyes sparkled with hidden stories, and a subtle smile played on his lips. He possessed an air of mystery that fascinated her.

Without thinking twice, Fiorella impulsively decided to make him feel welcome, embracing the Sardinian hospitality that ran in her blood. She emerged from the water onto the docks, her petite frame dripping water onto the aging wood.

The man turned his gaze towards her, startled by her sudden appearance.

"Buongiorno." She smiled.

His eyes traveled from her head to her toes, stopping to stare at her dripping curls. "Can I help you?"

"It's a lovely morning, no?" The man spoke to her in English. However Fiorella didn't mind. She liked speaking English with tourist, it was the best way to learn. "And, you're suppose to say Buongiorno."

"Huh?" The man looked puzzled.

"It means good morning." She said, taking a look around as she stood on the docks. It was a nice boat, not suitable for fishing, but still nice.

"I know what it means." The man muttered, he looked tired, perhaps not an early riser like her.

"So why didn’t you say it?"

He raised his brow, startled by how frank she was. Her parents hated when she did that, teasing the tourist, but it's what all the locals did.

"Perhaps we should try again? Buongiorno, I'm Fiorella, who are you?"

The man watched her from where he sat on his boat, unsure if she was teasing him again.

She chuckled "Go on, it's your turn."

He shook his head. "Buongiorna, I'm Ruben."

"Last name?"

He frowned. "You didn't tell me yours."

"I'll let you know mine after you tell me yours."

He rested his hands on his hips. "Sanchez, Ruben Sanchez."

"Nice to meat you Ruben Sanchez, these are for you." Fiorella presented the man with her bountiful catch of clams, fresh from the depths of the sea. "Here," she said, tossing him the small fishing net.

He caught it with one hand.

"Welcome to Sardinia." She smiled.

Ruben's surprised expression transformed into a wide grin as he accepted Fiorella's gift. "Thanks."

"I'm Fiorella," she said, her voice filled with excitement, "Fiorella Costa, and this is my dog, Pluto."

The dog barked his welcome.

"My family herds sheep on a farm bellow the village." She pointed to the green hills behind them. "If you're ever on your way, make sure to visit my uncles restaurant on the same road. He makes the best gnocchi, no matter what the Italians say."

Ruben frowned. "Aren't people from Sardinia considered to be Italians?"

He pronounced it like the tourists usually did, heavy on the "I" instead of soft on the "D".

"We are, but I'm also Tunisian, so my family is special."

He nodded. "Thanks for the tip, I'll make sure to check it out."

"Or you could just cook the clams I gave you and call it a day. Come now Pluto!"

She turned her back on the man, not bothering to see his puzzled reaction. She was like that, Fiorella, a horrible tease.

"There she goes again." Her grandmother sighed as Fiorella parked her bike down the road to her house. It was a beautiful yellow house, surronded by acheres of green land scattered with sheep. Fiorella's grandmother (nonna) was seen picking fresh tomates from their garden alongside Fiorella's four year old brother Dino.

"Wet from head to toe. Aren't you getting tired of running down to the docks, diving for treasure?"

"Nope." Fiorella smiled. She kicked of her sandals and stepped into the garden to help with the tomatoes.

"If I hear that you're bothering those tourists again..."

"I'm not, nonna."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"Good, because you know what your father thinks of them."

Fiorella's father believed that the locals should leave the tourists alone, let them explore our beaches and purchaise our goods, however, that is where we should draw the line. He thinks that never should we invite the tourist to our properties and let them bother us in our homes.

"It's funny coming from him, no?" Fiorella said, helping her brother top his basket with tomatoes. "If it wasn't for nonno... " Fiorella's grandfather on her dad's side, "...being welcomed by a Sardinian family, Dino and I would never be considered local Sardinia's. We'd be Tunisians, wouldn't we, nonna?"

"Stop it with your foolishness child. There is no way for us to know what could have been if your grandfather hadn't married your grandmother. Just be glad that you are considered a Sardinian. We are very proud people you know."

"But our nonno is Tunisian, doesn't that make Dino and I at least a third or a quarter Tunisian?"

"No, now basta."

Nonna grabbed the basket of tomatoes and began marching towards the house. Fiorella lifted her little brother into her arms and did the same.

"We have alot to do this week, with your sister's wedding and all. I expect you to be on your best behavior, Fiorella, meaning no running off to the docks. Your sister needs you here, helping with the wedding."

"But Nonna..."

"No buts. Did I make myself clear?"

Fiorella rolled her eyes, muttering "All clear."

She was curious as for how long she'd manage to stay away. The docks and the sea was her sanctuary. It's where the Mediterranean sea welcomed the land beyond Sardinia and where Fiorella met the most handsome man she had ever seen.

How could she stay away?

*Note from author: Yes, Ruben did give Fiorella a fake last name. Find out why in these upcoming chapters!

Ciao! 😜

[jackiequick]

— The Invisible Beauty OC

— “With all due respect sir, i have to work twice as hard to prove myself for just a bit of recognizing respect. I may not be as smart as the other men and women here but I know my value. I understand that much.”

-> Juliette Florence

Face Claim: Janelle Monáe

Full name: Juliette Florence Genesis Wilkes Wilson

Nicknames: Juliet, Flora, Flo, Fiona

Age: 28–32

Height: 5’3

Birthday: February 7, 1992 (Aquarius)

Relationship Status: Single

Occupation: Model, Actress, Secretary and Co-Navigator

Alias: Timeless beauty, The Model, Off-Line Agent

Appearance:

Florence has the timeless beauty of Janelle Monáe, with a striking presence that blends elegance with an adventurous spirit. Despite being from the 2000s, her fashion sense has evolved to match the modern era, seamlessly combining vintage charm with contemporary style. She tends to wear timeless clothes from her grandmother and mother from the 60s-70s, within her on her wardrobe now.

Standing at 5'0, she may be petite, but her confidence and determination make her a force to be reckoned with.

Personality: A Southern belle with a gentle heart, Juliette has a bark that's always thicker than her bite. She's a fast talker with a snarky edge, always ready with a quick-witted remark. Her mama always told her to be kind but to make sure everyone knows she tried her damn hardest at everything.

————

Powers and Abilities:

Invisibility: Juliet possesses the ability to turn invisible at will, allowing her to move undetected and evade danger when necessary. This power grants her a strategic advantage in both her personal and professional life, enabling her to navigate tricky situations with stealth and precision.

Teleportation: With the ability to teleport, Juliet can instantaneously transport herself from one location to another, covering vast distances in a matter of seconds. This skill comes in handy during her hectic schedule, allowing her to seamlessly juggle multiple commitments and obligations.

Force Shields: Juliet can generate force shields to protect herself and others from physical harm. These shields act as a barrier against external threats, providing a layer of defense in dangerous situations. Along with her ability to defend and hold her own, finding the strength to deepen her defenses.

————

— Backstory:

Juliet grew up in a small town, where she was always fascinated by the stories her grandmother told her about their heritage. Her interest in her roots led her to explore various artistic pursuits, including modeling and writing.

Like any artist, she wasn’t clear onto her goals in life, especially being a woman of color, she feared she wouldn’t get enough credit for her work. Especially due to the fact that she had zero experience whatsoever in the industry up to that point.

However she knew she wanted to model and dance like all the artists she loved to see on her tv screens. Such as Aaliyah, Beyoncé, Alicia Keys and others. She enjoyed their music and the fact that theses fine women were able to dance, as well as model for the next generation to come.

Still, she went on to that path and made a move to Hollywood a couple of years later. She did small gigs here and there, modeling for companies who would take in any kind of role to be the face of their products and services. She danced around on stage at cafes and pay the bills at the restaurant she worked at, where dancers would perform for the guests.

She even performed and made friends with a couple of girls, being invited to events and introducing herself to the crowd.

In the late 2000s a Hollywood film project wanted to explore the concept of space exploration and the roles of people in NASA so they sent actors and actresses to be introduced to the field, Juliet Florence was picked to go along being someone who wanted to development her craft from model to actress at the time, she wanted a hands on approach to the world she would be playing on in the film industry.

So she allowed the freedom to explore the space program with a visitors perspective along with the others that day. However certain curiosity got the best of her, as she found herself looking through the window of an experimental act taking shape before her eyes. During the critical test launch, an unforeseen incident occurred.

A powerful temporal anomaly was unleashed blasting past the walls across the door hitting Juliet as she fell asleep on the ground from such a terrible hit. She woke up in the hospital in a daze surrounded by doctors who questioned her health status after the incident but felt fine.

Bleeding a little from the wound she was given from the impact and a mild headache but other than that she was alright. She remembers the blue light from the source of the blast being the last thing she saw as she rushed for safety before passing out.

She was sent back home a couple of days later where she then discovered her powers in the kitchen as she almost got a jump scare from the lighting storm outside and once she looked at the her reflection in the toaster, she saw she turned invisible for a split second then back to normal. She gasped in shock almost immediately stumbling on her own feet.

Over time she noticed her skin was softer and smoother almost instantly creating her timeless appearance, like she was using some kind of makeup product. Or if she was using a new set of coconut butter on her body to make it almost shine bright like a diamond.

She knew she couldn’t tell anyone at the time, especially thinking they might believe her to be seen as freak or worse. She wanted to continue her career as a dancer and actress, if someone found out that she affected by this…she might lose everything she worked for.

It was hard enough being an African American woman in Hollywood, but imagine being one who had some freaky abilities.

She would be screwed…

-----------

- The Unexpected Rise Of The Beauty 

After the incident at the NASA facility, Juliette Florence finds herself grappling with a new reality. Initially, she tries to dismiss the strange occurrences as figments of her imagination. The fleeting moments of invisibility and the odd sensations of teleportation, that appeared when she felt threatened—she chalks them up to stress and fatigue. 

But the doubts linger, casting a shadow over her already demanding start in Hollywood.

The Catalyst for Change

One late night, as she sits on her couch eating a fruit salad and flipping through channels, something catches her eye on the news. The screen displays rare footage captured on a phone of a tall, dark-skinned woman with bleach-white hair, commanding the forces of nature. The news anchor identifies her as Storm, a powerful mutant who uses her abilities to protect others. The sight of Storm—confident, unashamed, and using her powers for good—strikes a chord deep within Juliette.

For the first time since the incident, Juliette sees a reflection of herself in someone else. Storm's presence ignites a spark of hope and determination. If Storm can embrace her powers and use them to make a difference, perhaps Juliette can too.

Embracing the Unknown

The next morning, Juliette decides to face her fears head-on. She begins experimenting with her abilities in the safety of her home. Initially, it's a chaotic process filled with frustration, fear, and exhaustion. She practices teleporting from her living room to her backyard, learning to focus her mind on the target destination. She discovers that her invisibility is triggered by strong emotions—fear, frustration, and annoyance—and works on calming herself to control this power.

Each day, from Tuesday morning to Saturday afternoon, Juliette dedicates some time to understanding her abilities. She keeps a low profile, ensuring that no one outside her home learns about her powers. 

Despite the challenges, she persists, driven by the image of Storm and the realization that she, too, can harness her abilities.

Returning to Hollywood

After a while, Juliette returns to the movie studio. She realizes that the role she originally wanted no longer feels right. It's a painful reminder of the incident that changed her life. Instead, she speaks with her agent and decides to seek out roles that allow her more freedom to express herself—whether through singing, dancing, or acting in characters with depth and complexity.

Her determination pays off. She lands roles that not only showcase her talents but also allow her to draw on her newfound strength. Such as Iridessa in The Tinkerbell movies, Hidden Figures, Think Like A Man, Rio 2, Netflix’s Glass Onion, Bad Boys, and guest star in tv series.

Her performances gain a new layer of authenticity and power, captivating audiences and critics alike.

-------

Likes:

Fashion: Juliet has a passion for fashion, drawing inspiration from both vintage styles and contemporary trends. She enjoys experimenting with different looks and expressing herself through her wardrobe.

Music: A lover of music, Juliet finds solace and inspiration in various genres, from classic R&B and soul to modern pop and hip-hop. Music serves as a source of comfort and motivation for her.

Literature: Juliet has a deep appreciation for literature, particularly works that explore themes of identity, culture, and resilience. She enjoys immersing herself in books that provide insight and inspiration.

Dance: Juliet's background in dance fuels her love for movement and self-expression. Whether it's choreographing routines or hitting the dance floor with friends, she finds joy in the rhythm and energy of dance.

Dislikes:

Societal Expectations: Juliet harbors resentment towards societal expectations that seek to limit her authenticity and self-expression. She dislikes feeling pressured to conform to narrow standards of beauty and behavior.

Prejudice and Discrimination: Having experienced prejudice and discrimination firsthand, Juliet despises injustice in all its forms. She advocates for equality and inclusivity, using her platform to amplify marginalized voices.

Betrayal: Trust is important to Juliet, and she dislikes betrayal or deceit from those she holds dear. She values loyalty and honesty in her relationships and is quick to distance herself from those who betray her trust.

Friends and Family:

Grandmother: Juliet shares a close bond with her grandmother, who serves as a source of wisdom and guidance. Their relationship is rooted in love and mutual respect, with Juliet often seeking her grandmother's advice in times of need.

Close Friends: Juliet's circle of friends consists of fellow artists, activists, and creatives who share her values and passions. They provide support and camaraderie, standing by her side through the ups and downs of life in Hollywood.

Struggles with Powers/Roles:

Secrecy: Juliet grapples with the burden of keeping her powers a secret, fearing the repercussions if they were to be exposed. This constant vigilance adds stress to her already demanding career and personal life.

Identity Crisis: The juxtaposition of her public persona and her hidden abilities creates an internal conflict for Juliet, leading to moments of doubt and insecurity about her true self.

Balancing Act: Juliet struggles to balance her various roles and responsibilities, from her career as a model and actress to her advocacy work and personal relationships. Finding equilibrium amidst the chaos of her life proves challenging at times.

~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

Who knows where Juliette will go next in her journey? Maybe she’ll meet the woman who inspired her to keep going. Perhaps she’ll take time off from Hollywood one day to explore this new side of her. 

The future is uncertain, and we can only wait and see.

///

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Hope u guys like her!

Tags: @gaminggirlsstuff @missstrawbs2001 @t-nd-rfoot @yetanotherwells @sherloquestea @gcthvile @ohgodnotagainn @topgun-imagines @cherrysft @superspookyjanelle @xgoddessoffandomsx @rickb-chaos @ocappreciation @fototingobug @daughter-of-melpomene @savemewattpad

[gabessquishytum]

Hob would like to say that this was all because he lost a bet. Yes, he is aware that many of his stories start with him losing a bet. (Shut up!)

Still. He. Lost. A. Bet......to f'ing Constantine. And because the bet was with Joanna, and because he lost by being wrong about something (it doesn’t matter what) in his field of study -- the severity of what he has to do matches being shown up by a Constantine -- Now that all that is clear.

What?! Oh, right. So Hob needs to pole dance as his act for the faculty talent show fundraiser. Yes, Hob is aware he's never even attempted pole dancing before,,,,, and yes, he might be a little (A LITTLE) uncoordinated. (Shut Up!)

So obviously he needs a teacher, who can get him ready in 3 months. By sheer serendipity, Hob sees an ad in the campus newspaper for pole dancing classes taught by an "M". Hob is willing to pay (honestly through the absolute nose) to someone willing to help him show up Constantine. M agrees to meet Hob at an off campus coffee shop to discuss private lessons.

Hob is nervous. He knows it's silly what he's trying to do. He doesn't want M to think Hob is being at all disrespectful. He just needs some training. And then this beautiful man walks into the coffee shop and Hob forgets that he was waiting for someone. (SHUT UP!)

Dream is intrigued when Hob calls him and agrees to meet to discuss if he would be willing to help Hob fulfill his forefit. Dream understands losing a bet.

/I'm thinking Dream doesn't work clubs anymore, just teaching, but his real artistry is in aerial silks and he could teach Hob either straight pole or aerial (https://www.dreamstime.com/photos-images/aerial-dancer-man-silk.html)

This is definitely the kind of bet that Hob would get himself into.

Poor Hob is immediately discouraged when he sees Dream’s incredible lean, petite physique. Of course a guy like that is going to be able spin around in the air like it's nothing. Hob just feels like he's going to be so clumsy and he'll make a total fool of himself in front of Dream AND everyone else.

But Dream shows him a few videos of guys who have a body type more like Hob’s, and he feels a tiny bit more confident. It's not like he needs to become an expert, he just needs to perfect a simple routine. And Dream is a tough teacher. He's got Hob coming in to his home studio twice every week to practice. His voice makes Hob weak at the knees (NOT convenient when he's trying to spin around a pole!) and Hob is totally wishing that this beautiful man would just dom him for real. Every night in the shower he helplessly fingers himself, imagining that it's Dream giving him the orders...

Fortunately Dream’s teaching also pays off and Hob becomes quite comfortable with his routine. Dream even comes shopping with him to find the perfect outfit to perform in! He nearly cums in the dressing room as he's trying on all these revealing semi lingerie type outfits while Dream waits outside and critiques each one.

Dream seems determined that Hob should not only perform well but actually WIN the talent show. Which is presumably why he turns up and sits in the front row... and mouths "Good boy." at Hob when he finishes his routine flawlessly.

And since he's not Hob’s teacher anymore, there's no reason why he can't go back stage and jerk Hob off through the silky fabric of his nearly see-through bodysuit. Good boys get rewards...

[somethingclevermahogony]

OC Intro: Otilia

Hello everyone! This intro is way overdue by like a month now, oops.

Anyway! The new poll will be up in the next couple of days! I hope y'all enjoy getting to know Otilia!

Name: Otilia (Written below in the Korithian Script)

Otilia is a Korithian and as such she comes from an entirely different naming tradition when compared to the Kishites. It is traditional for Korithian women to be named after their Father and Grandfather, combined into a single name. As such while there is a limited number of masculine names within the Korithian language, there are many varied feminine names. Otilia is the result of her father, Otiros and her grandfather, Likiteres. Her two sisters are named in similar fashion though with different variations on the combination.

This Continues below the cut!

Family

Father: Otiros (Dead)

Mother: Abalia (Alive)

Sister: Otilikia (Alive)

Sister: Likotia (Alive)

Brother: Panatos (Alive)

Grandfather: Likiteres (Dead)

Husband (Estranged): Wadaxes (Alive)

Homeland/Place of Origin

Kalmanati, Eastern Korithia

Ethncity

Bokisic Korithians are those Korithians who inhabit the largest of the Korithian Isles, Bokis. Bokisic-Korithians account for upwards of 70% of the entire population. While descended from Arkodians they also present with strong Baalkic and Kishite influences. This is one reason why these people are, on average, taller than other Korithian ethnic groups.

History

Otilia was born roughly 26 years before the start of the story in the wealthy port city of Kalmanati. Korithian culture and that of Kalmanati in particular is highly patriarchal and highly conservative. She was the eldest child of the wine merchant Otiros and the Makoric-Korithian Abalia. Otilia inherited her mother's auburn hair, a trait none of her younger siblings would share, making her well-known in her home city.

Otiros was quite wealthy and lived with his family in a large manor attended by 23 slaves. As such, he showered gifts on his three daughters, all born within six years of one another. The children were taught decorum, and Otilia was brought to business meetings and negotiations. Although Korithian tradition is highly patriarchal and did not intend for her to be truly involved, she was expected to one day advise her husband on his own trade.

From a young age, Otilia showed a streak of independence, often sneaking away from the expensive tutoring lessons paid for by her father. In this way, she was somewhat similar to Ninma, over two decades later.

Initially, her disobedience angered her father, but it was through her mother, who had never been taught to read or write, that Otilia gained an interest in her studies. Otilia would read to her mother stories and poems, some of her own creation. This was the highlight of her relationship with her mother, which was otherwise often highly argumentative. This sparked Otilia’s passion for learning. By age 11, she could speak Korithian and Kishite, and could read and write in both, as well as in Baalkic script.

Korithian marriages are arranged, often centered around matters of business. Such was the case for Otilia. She had never shown particular interest in marriage or boys. Many men, of various ages, petitioned Otiros for her hand. Ultimately, he decided on a fellow wine merchant, an even wealthier man named Wadaxes.

The wedding took place only days after the agreement was made. Otilia was 16 on her wedding day. Upon meeting her new husband, a man over twice her age, she begged her father to reconsider. Embarrassed and enraged, her father pulled her aside and scolded her. This devolved into a loud and nearly violent argument. Otiros swore never to lay eyes on his daughter again and promptly left her with her new husband. Otilia tried to live a good life, attending to her husband and completing domestic duties, all while secretly continuing to write and read, creating an extensive collection of poems and stories, many of which centered around her struggles with finding happiness with her husband.

While initially kind, Wadaxes revealed his true nature after four years of marriage when Otilia seemingly could not bear a child, despite one instance of Wadaxes’s infidelity resulting in a birth.

Wadaxes attempted to divorce Otilia, a process in Korithian culture that would necessitate the repayment of any dowry or agreements and the "return" of Otilia to her family's patriarch. However, Otilia’s father refused any offer that Wadaxes made, unwilling to take her back. Wadaxes then petitioned the city council, but since Otilia had done nothing to prevent him from producing children by other means, there were no grounds to end the marriage due to her infertility. Despite Otilia's own wish to be rid of her increasingly cruel spouse, the conservative nature of the council forbid women from initiating divorce in any circumstance, or even addressing the council. Thus, by Korithian law, Wadaxes could not divorce his wife.

Wadaxes took out his frustrations on Otilia by insulting her, refusing to let her into bed, and even forbidding the slaves from feeding her. In time, this active abuse simmered into mutual loathing. Wadaxes would intentionally bring prostitutes home to dine, often in the presence of guests and important people, to humiliate Otilia. At other times, he would disappear for days without warning.

In one instance, Wadaxes found Otilia's collection of poems and musings and narrated these private thoughts to a room of drunken merchants and their wives. Only a poorly timed storm prevented her from running away that day.

Otilia endured these conditions for years until her father contracted a respiratory disease, which would ultimately be fatal. By this point, her husband had already chosen a new "wife," a mistress he kept in their home full-time. Seeing an opportunity to finally be rid of Otilia, Wadaxes planned to negotiate the divorce with the new patriarch of Otilia’s family, her younger brother Panatos.

Upon hearing this plan and learning of her father's declining health, Otilia devised a plot of her own. In an act of petty revenge, she forged a letter from her husband and used it to commandeer one of his ships and crew, sailing far away. By doing so, she denied Wadaxes the pleasure of giving her away and delayed his ability to remarry until she was found or declared dead or vanished, a process that could potentially take decades.

Her escape took her across the Green Sea to a place she had often heard about in stories and the markets of Kalmanati—the city of Labisa.

Appearance

Otilia is tall, standing about 5'5", which is notably above the average height of 5'0" for Korithian women. She has the typical olive skin and brown eyes of her people. Her most striking feature, however, is her auburn hair—a rarity south of Makora. This perceived exoticness made her highly desired by the bachelors of Kalmanati.

Personality

Otilia is a kind and caring person, eager and curious to learn new things. However, she is also prone to sarcasm, and her time learning from her father and observing his business dealings has cultivated a certain cunning and slyness in her. She possesses a keen understanding of people and knows how to use this to her advantage. Highly intelligent and well-read on a variety of topics, Otilia's blend of empathy, wit, and shrewdness makes her a formidable and complex individual.

Gender/Pronouns

Cis-woman She/Her

Sexual Orientation

Lesbian

Relationships

Otilia's relationship with her family is abyssmal. Her relationship with her "husband" is even worse. Upon first escaping she was worried that Wadaxes may send someone to find her. A fear which was quickly lessoned by time and the presence of Narul.

She acts in some sense as an adoptive partent to Ninma alongside Narul.

She is partners with the Kishite, Shela.

Favorite Color

Blue

Favorite Food

Daropaka, Korithian Cheesecake (Find the recipe here!)

Biggest Fear

Losing what she has found and made of herself since escaping.

Sage?

No

Literate?

Yes

Excerpt

Someone sat at his other shoulder, and he looked, expecting to see Suru or Bira. But instead there sat the Korithian. “I haven’t had the chance to properly thank you.” Her Kishite was quite good though it had a sort of stiff formality to it. Her shoulders were pulled back, her spine painfully straight. Narul had seen these same kinds of mannerisms from the various aristocratic men and women who would visit Hutbari’s court from the lands to the west. She was tall and thin, her eyes sharp. Her auburn hair was disheveled, her curls tangled. “Oh, that’s fine.” Narul muttered. The Korithian frowned and turned to him. “It is not. I owe you. I do not know how this sort of thing works for you easterners, but for us, a debt like this is a very serious thing. My name is Otilia, and you're Naro, yes?” She looked at him quizzically. “Um, Narul.” He corrected. Otilia nodded, mouthing the word, trying to nail it into her mind.  Narul against his better judgment turned to Otilia and asked. “So are you…meeting your husband somewhere?” Otilia looked at him, confused. “My husband?”Narul covered his mouth, mortified. “Oh I am so sorry, did he…you know?” “My husband is in Kalmanati. And I'm not in too much of a hurry to see him again.” Otilia chuckled.

@patternwelded-quill @flaneurarbiter @skyderman @blackblooms

@roach-pizza @illarian-rambling @dezerex @theocticscribe

@axl-ul, @persnickety-peahen, @surroundedbypearls, @elsie-writes

@mk-writes-stuff, @kaylinalexanderbooks

[yenleak]

Straight Bridgerton fans are weird as fuck making a whole PETITION to replace Masali Baduza, a woman who is playing Michaela for M*chael , a colonizer and a man with breeding kink in canon. Why is having ONE sapphic romance out of eight should recieve so much hate amongst literally grown people? At this point they're not even trying to hide their blatant racism and misogyny, throwing horrible slurs and trying so hard to ruin her career. Why is it always a woman of color getting tons of hate in every aspect of her career just for her existence?! The fact that working and capable people do this kind of shit makes me wonder what drives their brains. Go and breathe some air, do not cry about something that is made up, do not act like a silly teenager and stop making other peoples life miserable. What is wrong with y'all, literally. I argue in the comments with people twice my age, and for some reason, among the two of us, only I understand that hatred is not the way out.

Anyways. I haven't seen the same outrage from fans for Benedict being given same-sex affairs.People care about one of the shittiest books with the most abusive love line, then complaining about the canon, while everyone's favorite 2nd season has been completely changed.