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demyrie · 6 months ago
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Hello from five years later???? WOW (*the sound of the author trying to be impressed instead of depressed/distressed*) (no haha I'm kidding I never underestimate how lucky I am to be alive after COVID, seriously productivity-guilt culture has no place here)
Lovely mutual reminded me that I might want to actually provide this original work and I was like, hm, sensical.
HELLO TO MY BRAINCHILD. Midnight Tour is "urban fantasy" buddy cop drama -- and neither dude is a willing participant in this team up 😂 there are 13 books in this series, swimming in my diehard love of healing, trauma, romance, queerness, and of course mistrust of the establishment lol.
It's been incredibly interesting/the most fucking radicalizing to begin dreaming up a fairly standard police procedural series (I am a child of the early Ots) back in 2010's, dutifully reading all these criminology literature research books on how to be "fair to police" in my portrayal, and then realizing no, no one needs to be Fair to Facists ❤️ especially not in this hellscape.
Strap in for monsters, mayhem, magic and stupid men! So stupid. Many feelings.
I'm gonna write today :)
Hi demyrie. I have been reading your Bandages and Bravado series I really truly adore how you bring together and develop the relationship between Toshinori and Aizawa, they r now officially my favorite characters in the entire BNHA. Anyway years ago when I was a baby transformers fan exploring herself through the adventures and shenanigans of giant alien robots, I found a tfa prowl/lockdown fic where prowl survived Deceptions attacking Earth for the All spark by abandoning his team n joining l
[CONT]
prowl left his team on earth n ran away to be bounty hunters with lockdown and throughout all 70 chapters I was mesmerised and riveted by the development of their relationship as partners and then partners-with-benefits and then lovers and then getting domestic. And there was one of my most favorite OCS until today, a trans neutral bounty hunter named Torque. She is just… amazing?!?! Tough and kind n lonely n I loved her dif connections w prowl n LD.
[END]
Listen. Listen. My friend. You’re gonna make me fucking cry.
First of all, thank you. I’m really awash with every single feeling right now because of these wonderful people coming out of the woodwork to say they remember my transformers fics, and this is a whole new level of Blown Away.
I … because LISTEN. Her name was Torque, and just having you describe her as “tough, kind and lonely” is enough to make my hands shake. I loved her.
She was a trans, sassy, magenta, sharp-optic neutral bounty hunter who changed her model designation a bit far along in life and chummed around with Lockdown enough to know things he didn’t want his mint-condition ninjabot toy to know. She was tough, she was kind, and she was terribly lonely. She liked to gloss over some of their shared ugliness (mismatched parts, scuff-marks and oil stains) and believed that Prowl brought a new life for them both after so long surviving as space junk caught in the orbit of credits, job, deactivation, credits. 
She warmed to see Lockdown’s crusty gears slipping every so often as he found himself caring for and protecting a thing instead of stripping it raw to sell for scrap. She was my vision for living through pain and retaining kindness. She was my model for making the most of transitions and for smiling through tears.
God, I was so sensitive at that age. So sensitive that I burned up with shame when people derided her as a Mary Sue when I was already so nail-bitingly careful with balancing her screentime with the guy bots. I had ONE Torque-centric chapter and folks commented to say they weren’t going to read anymore because I was being stupid and indulgent. And, like, dunno, taking up their time when I’d already written 60+ chapters of JUST Prowl and Lockdown?
It was very clear she wasn’t allowed to have her own relationships with either of them, and the backlash threw me so much, I felt like I was being told that my relationships with these characters meant nothing.
Ahhh. The memory still stings. 
I was so ashamed, and I had no reason to be. Why do people say these things to other living, hoping, healing human beings making a story? The same thing happened when I included a chapter of her in Odd Moments, with her trying to escape a very real and familiar abusive situation – the frustration and fear of leaving a person who wouldn’t be left – and the misogynistic comments just kept coming. I deleted that chapter within a day, and can’t even remember if I deleted the Partners one.
I get that fans can be dicks sometimes, especially if what you’re doing infringes on their “all pairing all the time” show. One thing I can be so, so grateful for is how much more accepted OCs are nowadays, with people even making zines and asktumblrs and such. It’s cool. It feels like a bigger world, in a way.
All this to say, thank you, friend.
This is a super emotional day for me already, since I’ve opened pre-orders for my new original work, and you’re reminding me of how far I’ve come and how I’ve grown to love and value my own priorities in storytelling. You’re an angel, thank you. Just … thanks. It means the world to me that someone would remember her after all this time. I love my gal and I always will.
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renaroo · 7 years ago
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Twisted Legacy (23/25)
Disclaimer: Transformers and related properties belong to Hasbro Warnings: Canon-typical language and violence, Psychological torture and horror, Post-war politics, Canon divergence/Loose canon, Hospitalization and illness, Cultist indoctrination Rating: T Synopsis: [Canon Divergence from MTMTE and exRID #54] The legacy of the Primes has had a tainted past, one that weighs heavily on Optimus, his supporters, and those who seek the legacy for the future. But as they look forward for themselves and for Cybertron, a darkness looms that threatens to further corrupt the unsteady peace of their planet with its curious claim to be the Hand of Primus himself.
It’s up to Optimus, Windblade, Rodimus, and their teams to try and save all Cybertronians from this mysterious threat and, perhaps, change the future for the better if they can.
A/N: I have been ridiculously busy preparing for my big move and unfortunately that has led to neglecting updates on many of my projects, particularly this one. And I’m more than pleased to turn some of my attention on the last couple of chapters for this fic that I’ve been working on for over a year now. We’re so close to the end! My goal is to finish the whole fic before I move but either way, I definitely want it finished by Thanksgiving. So here’s hoping!
Special thanks to @iamabagfullofcats, @mythicbells-fan-3495, squireofgeekdom, Isame, and a lovely guest on ffn for the feedback!
Part V: The Day the World Caught Fire Chapter 5.3: The Saviors of Cybertron
No one had been more certain of the danger passing than Knock Out himself.
Their species was not particularly well known for being plagued with diseases, let alone an actual plague. The things that he was trained for as a doctor on Velocitron had mostly dealt with injuries from consistent use, or system failures which came due to a combination of personal errors an being negligent of self-care. Disease control was a footnote in his greater studies.
So when the Red Rust had been taken care of by them the first time around, Knock Out lulled himself into a sureness that it was simply the end. That the Error that time was not their own.
And as such, he had diminished and ignored the concerns of his Conjunx.
Breakdown had been affected by the Red Rust originally, kept alive by Knock Out’s vigilance and connections to the government and the research facility. And Knock Out had been very content to put his own and Breakdown’s concerns to rest with a flip of his wrist.
Things were safe again. Breakdown was cured. They didn’t have anything to worry about.
Until Breakdown had been driving with him through the streets of Cybertron, strangely quiet and even slower than his bulk usually caused. Then, when they transformed once more at their destination, there was oil and energon leaking from Breakdown’s every crevice, his metal becoming brittle as the red stains began to mark him in his entirety.
No horror, no fear, had ever gripped Knock Out nearly as terrible as what he felt in those moments.
And despite his credentials, despite his big talk and insider knowledge, he was reduced to sitting beside his husband, clasping his hand in worry as they sustained him.
Sustained him and postponed any further treatment because there was an outright war being waged in the laboratory behind them. As if Knock Out wasn’t there with his Conjunx, as if there wasn’t panic already set in that very room.
As if Knock Out wasn’t right there.
“Are you trying to tell me that for weeks now you have been spending Cybertronian money, resources, and time on absolutely nothing? That even after everything, even after all that I’ve given you, you are somehow still not any closer to giving me a solution to this entire blasted mess!?” Starscream raged at First Aid and Windblade.
“He just talked you through all of his discoveries, Starscream,” the Camien delegate defended fiercely. “Obviously he’s done a lot of work with that time and if you just explained what he learned to the rest of Cybertron—“
“What I heard, Windblade, is a lot of theory and nonsense about how these things were killing Cybertronians! I didn’t hear an iota of news about how First Aid was going to stop them!” the supreme leader snarled.
“I can’t,” First Aid began to say.
“My point exactly!” Starscream screeched.
“Yet,” First Aid finally asserted himself. “I can’t stop it yet, Lord Starscream, but knowing is half the battle. By knowing how the organisms operate and how they communicate I’ll be able to find a way to deactivate them eventually. And more importantly, we know how to prevent them from being reactivated in the rest of the population. We just need a period of time where no one uses their T-Cog until I treat each and every one of them.”
“And how do you plan on keeping an entire planet from using their T-Cogs!?” Starscream snapped.
“First Aid can’t. I can’t,” Windblade answered. “But you can, Starscream. Easily. You can hold a press conference just like you did this morning and explain this to the world, have them hold off until they are treated by First Aid and everyone can be screened and cleared.”
Knock Out cycled his optics off, holding Breakdown’s hand even tighter. He hated it. He hated that his Breakdown was patient zero for the next round of the disease.
Where was the information — where was First Aid’s research — before Breakdown’s fall to illness?
“What I’m hearing is that you are asking me to send all of Cybertron straight into a population-wide panic,” Starscream scoffed. “After weathering disease and terrorism and a war of Combiners, you want to plunge Cybertron into a panic over an illness that has no cure as of yet. Do you realize what kind of hysteria that would cause? Do you realize how terrible of a position that puts me in? Prime and the future time travelers and who knows who else are fighting some battle that is surely going to cause enough explosions to be noticed by the news if not the citizens themselves, there’s still an embargo on mechs coming or leaving the planet that was so close to being lifted, and now this morning I said the big N and S words on global broadcast. Even if it was outlawing it, there’s a stirring panic over the idea that it was being used before.”
“It was being used before!” Windblade snapped.
“Also, mneumosurgery has a silent m,” First Aid corrected.
“There won’t be any press conference!” Starscream screeched definitively.
Having heard more than enough, Knock Out stood up fast enough to send his seat flying backward and clattering loudly against the ground. It was more than enough noise to draw the attention of all three mechs who had been ignoring him to that point.
“I don’t give a damn about the politics of Cybertron or any other games you mouthventers consider to be terrifying for the public or not!” Knock Out glared at them. “My Conjunx was already affected — betrayed by his own transformation. And even if it was a one-in-a-million frequency from the transformation, the effects are here to see. And in a population of millions there are more one-in-a-millions that will be coming our way soon. And panic when the public realizes there was knowledge not shared with them will put to shame any concerns brought to them in warning.”
When Knock Out looked to the others he received quite an array of emotions. First Aid was contemplative, a hand held to his chin in silence. Windblade was empathetic, her looks bleeding concern and responsibility. Starscream was utterly defiant, unmoved as it were.
“Delegate Knock Out, I enjoyed your opinions far more when they were not burdened by emotions,” Starscream finally announced, earning looks of ire from both Windblade and First Aid.
Knock Out snarled. “How dare you—“
“I will not send this world — and the other worlds — into a certain panic that will cause mass chaos, more deaths, and more destruction of what little property we all possess!” Starscream snapped at last. “The public can’t know they’re a T-Cog away from death at any moment because I can barely handle the information! And I’ve been aware of Error and his refuse since the start of these destructive tantrums!”
“We can’t do nothing! There will be deaths!” Windblade argued angrily. “And just like Knock Out said, once bodies start dropping, real panic and mayhem will hit either way. The public deserves to know—“
“The public can’t handle everything. That is why they have leaders elected to keep them safe!” Starscream scoffed. “Honestly, have none of you played this game before?”
“This is not a game to me!” Knock Out roared at last.
“What if,” First Aid began thinking out loud.
“Everything is a game! If you’re not winning you’re dying!” Starscream cried out in anger.
“This is not a zero-sum game for you to power grab more and more, Starscream!” Windblade said bitterly. “This deserves a summons from the Council of Worlds, and if you won’t start it than Knock Out and I will. And we’ll decide, by committee, how or how not to tell the citizens that their very lives are at stake.”
Feeling justified, Knock Out stepped closer to Windblade and crossed his arms. “I couldn’t have imagined saying it better myself.”
“The Council does not rule Cybertron, I do!” Starscream barked.
“All of our worlds are going to be affected!” Knock Out balked.
“Not yet,” First Aid said, a little louder, enough so to make the others realize he was still involved in the conversation. He looked back at them with determination. “None of us seem to know each other personally all that much, but I’’m going to ask everyone in this room to trust me and work with me. The other worlds aren’t affected yet, anyone who is affected isn’t just on Cybertron but lives within this city, correct? Then there’s potential that we could find a cure — the right code at the right frequency — and have it sent out to deactivate all of the nanites at once. We’d cure everyone without alerting them. But we’d obviously have to do it soon. As in done last cycle soon.”
“Brilliant!” Starscream cried out, clapping his hands together.
“You can do that? Just from what little information you have that you’ve already told us?” Knock Out asked skeptically.
“Yes,” First Aid nodded. “Trust me.”
“Okay,” Windblade said almost too readily, stepping toward First Aid. “Tell us what you need all of us to do then.”
Slowly, the little medic turned his head back toward Starscream. “Um. Well. Believe it or not, we still need to call that press conference.”
Knock Out joined Windblade in looking Starscream’s direction as the Cybertronian leader could not have looked more displeased.
As much as the task at hand required his full attention, Optimus found himself growing increasingly concerned with the way that the supposed Rodimus Prime was looking to Megatron almost with a sense of awe. If Ratchet or Megatron himself noticed it, they said nothing, but for Optimus it was an unavoidable sight.
And he could not understand why, with such stakes and how they were rushing toward certain conflict, he felt so unsettled by the time travelers and their interactions with everyone. It was wrong and disconcerting.
“Prime,” Windblade radioed to him from her jet form as she flew overhead. “I was going to scout ahead and see if I can give you all an advantage on what’s coming up…”
“That would be most advantageous, Windblade,” Optimus replied curtly.
“I was but… I can see you’re distracted and…”
“We do not have time for petty distractions,” he affirmed, more for himself than for her.
“I can respect that,” the cityspeaker from the future claimed without wavering. “But all the same, I know that our appearance and our coming to you all this way is, at the least, difficult to fully understand. And at worst it is going to cause irreparable harm to some of these relationships. And I don’t want you to feel that we have somehow come to change the course of things.”
“I am not sure I understand what you are trying to tell me here, Windblade,” Optimus said flatly.
“I am only trying to say that if you are worried about the relationships with those you have in your life now, don’t worry about the idea that Prime— Rodimus and I in any way endanger that. Things are as they should be. And you don’t even have to think of us as the bots you know today if there is anything about us and our appearances you are uncomfortable with. That is not them… yet.”
“What I see is not what the future holds for me but what the present has already presented,” Optimus answered lowly, seeing Rodimus and Megatron starting some sort of repertoire that was so natural even Ratchet didn’t seem particularly concerned by it. “The decisions I have made that have been beneficial for the relationships of others and not for myself and the ones who held me most dear at my most trying of times.”
Windblade did dip in her flight slightly. “Well, the one thing that is beneficial about being in the present and not from the future is that you have decisions you can still make and not regrets you can only feel.”
The words were sound advice, but they felt hollow. There was something permanent and determinative in the way that these future Windblade and Rodimus presented themselves. An inevitability. A fight that was only a losing battle, and Optimus already felt before they reached their destination that he was going to be long since tired of fighting those losing battles.
“Your plan of scouting ahead is solid advice, Windlade,” he said, effectively ending the conversation. “You should move ahead with it.”
The jet seemed hesitant, but just as the Windblade Optimus knew in the present, she was quick to act on his word without protest. She zipped ahead of all the road bound Cybertronians and over the debris fields of Nyon.
“Windblade!?” the future Rodimus called out in obvious concern.
“She is going to scout what is ahead of us,” Optimus assured the group. “We may not have the element of surprise, but we will benefit from knowing what we are getting into.”
No sooner had he said the words, Optimus and the rest of the crew were taken by surprise by a blind white light just ahead of them. He leaped forward, transforming and landing heavily on his feet ahead of the rest before racing to Windblade’s side as she sat on the ground, holding her head. Purple smoke pillowed from her shoulders and head.
“Windblade!” Rodimus Prime cried out, racing up to Optimus’ side as the current Prime kneeled beside Windblade.
“There’s some sort of barrier there — I think it’s temporal energy,” Windblade announced, looking back to the others. “It feels the same as the energy that sent Rodimus and myself here.”
“Are you injured?” Optimus asked her seriously.
“I’ll be fine. I just don’t know how we’ll be getting through this, and that worries me,” Windblade answered.
“There must be a way through,” Megatron said determinedly. He turned his attention toward Rodimus Prime. “What was the way we got through to the other side.”
The future version of Optimus’ friend held up his hands and shook his head. “I have no idea! I don’t remember anything about this at all. I just remember that the three of you showed up and—“
“Just the three of us?” Optimus demanded, rising to stand. “You do not recall seeing yourself at the battle?”
Rodimus Prime squinted and scratched at his chin. “Okay, hold on a second, I have to decipher those tenses.”
“The barrier, whatever it is, is keeping the two of you from doing something you didn’t already do,” Ratchet determined.
Optimus looked at his oldest friend with some surprise. But not nearly as much as Rodimus Prime and Megatron.
“You didn’t go back in time with us, how do you know the rules?” Rodimus Prime asked.
“Because I bothered to pay attention and I’m bothering to use common sense now,” Ratchet declared, pushing past Megatron and Rodimus Prime in order to approach the very wall of energy that was glinting at them after having thrown Windblade back. He stopped only for a moment then pressed forward boldly, phasing right through the energy field.
“Okay. I guess it’s not time to help yet,” Rodimus Prime said, a bit stunned.
“Come on, Megatron,” Optimus ordered, earning a look of ire from his former nemesis.
“A moment, Prime,” Megatron said, looking to the time travelers as Wiindblade got back to her feet with Rodimus’ help. “You know the outcome of this battle. Some things are set in stone.”
“Want us to ruin the ending for you?” Rodimus Prime asked almost jokingly.
“I can assume, given your appearance now,” Megatron said offhandedly. “How will you be?”
Rodimus’ face dropped slightly but he maintained a level gaze at them both. “I’m going to spend the next few years defining who I am for the rest of my life,” he answered cryptically.
Megatron did not look pleased with the vague answer, but Optimus knew they were already losing precious time.
“The outcome won’t matter if we don’t act now, Megatron, let’s go,” Optimus said again. Megatron finally seemed ready to listen to him and together they went through the energy field, stepping straight into a battle which Optimus had not quite seen the likes of before.
“I utterly despise everything about this plan,” Starscream announced with a snarl.
“You agreed to it rather quickly,” Windblade reminded him as she kept in step behind him. There was a hint of amusement in her voice that Starscream desperately wanted to strangle out of her. But they were on a time table as it was.
“That was before I realized I was going to be on the news vamping for however long it takes those medical flakes to figure out how to annoy everyone on Cybertron.”
“I wouldn’t think that more time for you to be center stage on the news would be considered such a difficulty for you, Starscream,” Windblade mocked.
Having had more than enough, the supreme leader quickly turned on his heels and punched his fist into the hallway wall right in front of Windblade’s faceplate. It was more than enough to make her stop walking and face him entirely. There wasn’t any fear, though, nor was there even anger. There was just frustration and annoyance mirroring back to him.
“I am risking my future for a harebrained scheme that, for as much as I can tell, is at least partially the fault of your time traveling counterpart,” Starscream snapped. “Something I could stop from ever happening by making certain that your spark is snuffed out long before you become the time traveling nuisance in my life instead of the ordinary nuisance in my life. It’s an idea that only becomes more desirable the more you remind me of how much you disrespect me and my judgment.”
“It’s not your future at risk, it’s all of our futures at risk,” Windblade reminded him firmly. “What you’re doing is going to determine if there is a future for our entire species — and that isn’t just whether or not you stop this one plague. You hold that power over all of us each and every day as the leader of Cybertron and the head of the Council of Worlds.” Her frown tightened and her bright blue optics almost grew sharper as she stood in complete confidence. “I don’t like you, Starscream. You make it hard for anyone to even entertain the idea of liking you. And it’s not my place nor my interest to assess which one it is. I don’t agree with you most of the time. And I will disobey you for my own conscience even more than that. But it is not because I disrespect you. Respect is the only thing I have for you. For your position, for the games you played in order to get to it practically on your own.”
Starscream searched Windblade’s features for any sign that she was speaking anything less than the truth, but it was an unnecessary practice. He could see rather clearly already that she was precisely as truthful as she had ever been.
A quality he respected no matter how little he could ever stomach or understand it himself.
“Very well,” Starscream said, letting his arm drop back to his side. “That’s all I can ask of you.”
“It’s more than what you can ask of me,” Windblade argued flatly. “But we’re going to save the future today, Starscream. And I am going to be in your debt for it for seemingly a very, very long time. So I hope you can, just this once, be truthful with me.”
He looked at her carefully and tilted his head. “About what?”
“How much did you know before the rest of us?” she asked lowly, as if aware that whatever direction the conversation took, it was best left between the two of them. “I know that you’ve known more since the beginning. I know that Error and you must have been in contact for you to have made some of the maneuvers you have since his arrival. How much did you know? How much damage were you willing to see and to what end?”
Starscream looked back at her dully. “Is that the most you wish to ask? I expected better of you, Cityspeaker,” he said almost sarcastically.
She wasn’t amused. “Starscream—“
“Before everything, when the Lost Light was first approaching with Megatron at its helm, I had contact with Error,” Starscream at last revealed. “He got my attention and offered the opportunity that arcane law and Optimus Prime’s failed judgment did not afford me — the chance for justice to be served and for the planet to be protected from the very mech responsible for bringing it to its knees. Bringing me to my knees.”
Windblade seemed genuinely surprised by the candid response. “You were the first to make contact with Error? Just before the entire planet became hostage to the Red Rust?”
“Yes, I know, my suspicions should have been higher and what not. He spoke cryptically enough that I heard what I wanted to so far as his motivations were concerned,” Starscream answered flippantly. “Now if you’re satisfied then we should be…” He halted, optics concentrating on his counterpart’s suspiciously. “Why are you emphasizing that I was first? That only means I had no way of knowing his true intentions.”
“It… does,” Windblade said hesitantly.
His internal alarm was basically screeching at him, begging him to leave without digging further into Windblade’s sudden turn toward strangeness. He, like she had said before seemingly stalling her processor, was intent on keeping their species from being held hostage by a disease they weren’t even aware that they still had.
“Very well, I will be taking this one on my own then,” he huffed in irritation before turning back and completing his trek down the hallway.
He was in the press room within seconds, his mind still mulling over what he and Windblade had been discussing before, despite his best intentions otherwise.
Why her accusing tone and and words continued to needle him even as he took to the stand before the news cameras and reporters was almost beyond him for a moment. Even as he worked quickly to bury those things deep in his mind, he found them annoyingly conscious still. There, pressing him for the grander realization which Windblade apparently already had.
“Lord Starscream! What is the reason for this briefing? Do you have news on the hunt for the terrorists?” one of the reporters asked, holding up their thumb microphone too close to Starscream’s personal space.
He was forcing an easy smile, some kind of small comfort to his people, knowing that if everything was to go according to plan, First Aid and Knock Out would be invading the airwaves with the siren-like blast to take out all of the nanites from the last to the first when—
Starscream’s stalled, his mouth agape.
“Me,” he realized out loud. “I… was patient zero for the plague.”
No sooner had the words left his slacked jaw than the room, and probably all of civilized Cybertron, exploded into a fury of noise all at once.
The moment he realized what he had just done, Starscream glanced back toward the door and saw Windblade looking at him in complete astonishment. She shrugged her arms at him and tilted his head. Whatever she was trying to get across, he couldn’t really process it over the sounds of reporters and his own spark attempting to pulse out of his chest.
Realizing things were turning quickly, Starscream thought quickly and held up his servos, forcing an easy smile. “Please, everyone calm, there will plenty of time for questions once I have fully completed my statement. I’m certain that you all will want to have all of it, which will require you paying attention rather than overtaking me.”
Slowly, everyone died down, at least enough that Starscream felt he had control of the room yet again. “Cybertron, citizens beyond the stars — in the weeks that unfolded after the initial disease that ravished our species, endangering our very future, it seemed, we began to turn suspicious gazes on our brothers and sisters. We wanted sources and blame even when there were color coded villains set before us. It was an excuse for lines that we had always had drawn to be retraced once more, and it was a cause of pain across our lands.” He paused, a bit for drama, then continued, his audience completely raptured. “I, as your chosen leader, failed to live up to the call of just who the people could blame. It is a shame that I still wear now as much as paint.”
Windblade crossed her arms, unimpressed with the white lies, but everyone else was lapping it up like high grade energon.
“So, in these dark hours, I will tell you what we should always turn toward when it comes to blame,” he pointed at his own chest plate. “I am your leader. I am the first to take responsibility for this disease beyond the cultists and terrorists who we are hunting down for the name of justice as we speak. But no worries, I do not take this cross to bear simply for guilt, but as a call to a new focus for my leadership of our shared and collective people! I, and Delegate Windblade, along with the rest of the Council of Worlds will begin official plans for cross-integration of our worlds and people, to see to it that we see each other as One rather than simply neighbors.”
She was surprised by the callout, but the moment that reporters and cameras made their way to Windblade, she offered a forced smile and a small wave.
“Now, those questions—“ Starscream began to say just before a static filled the air and microphones all around the room began to ring with a screeching, horrible noise. It was enough to make Starscream duck and shutter before holding on to the sides of his head. He calmly walked off stage while the news crews and guards tried to figure out what was going on.
Windblade was waiting on him.
“About damn time,” Starscream huffed as they left through the hallway together.
“You might have had to resort to volunteering us for cleaning the city dump if you’d been up there much longer,” Windblade huffed, holding the sides of her own head. “But… how much of that did you actually mean, Starscream?”
“It doesn’t matter, Windblade,” he assured her, a swarm smirk on his face. “The only thing the history books will note is that this was the defining day where Lord Starscream began our new Golden Age.”
Still, she did not seem impressed, but Starscream found it hard to force himself to feel any dampening on his mood. He had a peek at the acclaim that was to come his way.
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tariqk · 8 years ago
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Questions tag
tagged by @radio-charlie
One insecurity: That the violence I was socialised into is inherent, and that nothing I can do will change it
Two fears: Hurting the people I love, being found out
Three turn-ons: short hair, impishness, my partner's arousal
Four life goals: be a good partner, be a good father, be a good friend, have a good time
Five things I like: fried meehoon mamak, teh halia, androgynous women, cold jasmine green tea, small plasticky things (dice, glass beads, USB flash drives…)
Six weaknesses: smol ppl being impish and playfully daring me, things cheap at Lazada, short hair on cute people, muscles on butch women, puns (the worse the better), thinking in outlines and markup
Seven things I love: child #1, child #2, @were-cow, bad puns and shaggy-dog stories, friends (even the ones that don't keep in touch), tabletop roleplaying, looking at things from a speculative-fiction perspective
Eight people I’m tagging: @fightingfish, @komorxb, @unnullify, @grrraknil (it's too late, u answered one, u answer them all lol), @anneemay, @agirlinastory, @mythicbells-fan-3495, @bankuei
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demyrie · 6 years ago
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Hi demyrie. I have been reading your Bandages and Bravado series I really truly adore how you bring together and develop the relationship between Toshinori and Aizawa, they r now officially my favorite characters in the entire BNHA. Anyway years ago when I was a baby transformers fan exploring herself through the adventures and shenanigans of giant alien robots, I found a tfa prowl/lockdown fic where prowl survived Deceptions attacking Earth for the All spark by abandoning his team n joining l
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prowl left his team on earth n ran away to be bounty hunters with lockdown and throughout all 70 chapters I was mesmerised and riveted by the development of their relationship as partners and then partners-with-benefits and then lovers and then getting domestic. And there was one of my most favorite OCS until today, a trans neutral bounty hunter named Torque. She is just… amazing?!?! Tough and kind n lonely n I loved her dif connections w prowl n LD.
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Listen. Listen. My friend. You’re gonna make me fucking cry.
First of all, thank you. I’m really awash with every single feeling right now because of these wonderful people coming out of the woodwork to say they remember my transformers fics, and this is a whole new level of Blown Away.
I … because LISTEN. Her name was Torque, and just having you describe her as “tough, kind and lonely” is enough to make my hands shake. I loved her.
She was a trans, sassy, magenta, sharp-optic neutral bounty hunter who changed her model designation a bit far along in life and chummed around with Lockdown enough to know things he didn’t want his mint-condition ninjabot toy to know. She was tough, she was kind, and she was terribly lonely. She liked to gloss over some of their shared ugliness (mismatched parts, scuff-marks and oil stains) and believed that Prowl brought a new life for them both after so long surviving as space junk caught in the orbit of credits, job, deactivation, credits. 
She warmed to see Lockdown’s crusty gears slipping every so often as he found himself caring for and protecting a thing instead of stripping it raw to sell for scrap. She was my vision for living through pain and retaining kindness. She was my model for making the most of transitions and for smiling through tears.
God, I was so sensitive at that age. So sensitive that I burned up with shame when people derided her as a Mary Sue when I was already so nail-bitingly careful with balancing her screentime with the guy bots. I had ONE Torque-centric chapter and folks commented to say they weren’t going to read anymore because I was being stupid and indulgent. And, like, dunno, taking up their time when I’d already written 60+ chapters of JUST Prowl and Lockdown?
It was very clear she wasn’t allowed to have her own relationships with either of them, and the backlash threw me so much, I felt like I was being told that my relationships with these characters meant nothing.
Ahhh. The memory still stings. 
I was so ashamed, and I had no reason to be. Why do people say these things to other living, hoping, healing human beings making a story? The same thing happened when I included a chapter of her in Odd Moments, with her trying to escape a very real and familiar abusive situation – the frustration and fear of leaving a person who wouldn’t be left – and the misogynistic comments just kept coming. I deleted that chapter within a day, and can’t even remember if I deleted the Partners one.
I get that fans can be dicks sometimes, especially if what you’re doing infringes on their “all pairing all the time” show. One thing I can be so, so grateful for is how much more accepted OCs are nowadays, with people even making zines and asktumblrs and such. It’s cool. It feels like a bigger world, in a way.
All this to say, thank you, friend.
This is a super emotional day for me already, since I’ve opened pre-orders for my new original work, and you’re reminding me of how far I’ve come and how I’ve grown to love and value my own priorities in storytelling. You’re an angel, thank you. Just … thanks. It means the world to me that someone would remember her after all this time. I love my gal and I always will.
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