#pretty sure keeping prowl from sporting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cobaincreates · 4 years

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the fuck is a touron?

warnings: language, smut (wrap it you’re smart), 18+

count: 7k+

hehehehehe ;)

part two!

gif cred

— — —

“i was one hundred percent trying to teach him a lesson, but he’s too stupid to realize that you’re not supposed to lend one of my t-shirts to a random girl. god, he’s so dumb.” liza shook her head in frustration, her thumb absentmindedly scrolling along her phone screen.

“didn’t you guys used to be friends?” you asked, picturing the girl in mind. you could’ve sworn you’d seen liza with her at some point.

liza made a noise and bit her lip. “maybe he’s just trying to get back at me for something. i can’t think of anything i did though.”

“maybe they’re just messing with you. you know, because you did sleep with both of them.” liza made another dismissing noise. you took a sip from a glass she had given you from her kitchen. it was just beyond the doors behind you from where you sat on her massive deck.

you had taken it upon yourself to visit your friend before the last few weeks of summer ended. you’d see her back at school anyways, but she had asked you several times to make the trip out to see her. you’d been enjoying the ocean breeze and the hospitality of liza and her dad. it had only been a few days since you arrived; you hardly thought about leaving.

so far you had been biking around with liza through small sections of her neighborhood. she pointed out a few of her favorite spots, mostly trying to pass the days with you here, but also to make you feel welcome. she had taken you shopping off the island today, which resulted in a thousand more steps recorded on your phone and a new bathing suit to wear. you had also found a little lighthouse souvenir figure that you planned to put somewhere in your room once you got back home. you had dinner at a restaurant that liza said was one of her favorites, then you took the ferry back at sunset and now here you were, sharing a whole box of wine.

you snuggled further into your sweatshirt and pulled a pillow onto your lap. you stared out at the ocean in liza’s backyard and imagined how insane it was that she lived right on the beach. a small fire sat in front of you, warming your legs. liza put her phone down and took a large sip of her wine.

“anyone cute here? think i’d be into some east coast beach boy.” you mentioned, squinting your eyes playfully as you looked over at her.

she shrugged with her head on the back of the couch. “i mean there’s a few i went to school with, but you don’t want to mess with them.”

“how come?”

“they’re practically heartless. they’d totally leave you in the dirt.” she said. “well, sand.”

you snorted. “are you speaking from experience? because if so, i’m more than willing to get into a fight in your honor.”

“shut up.” she laughed. “you don’t want anyone from here, trust me.”

“no, trust me when i tell you that i do. i haven’t gotten laid in months and i’m crawling out of my skin.” you admitted as much as you didn’t want to. it had been a simple thought before getting on the plane to visit and you didn’t think you’d bring it up, but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. even while shopping you were mostly on the prowl. they should’ve had a store to buy a one-night stand. you were on vacation, you deserved to indulge.

“i have so much pent-up frustration. i need someone to sex me right now.” you continued, drinking the rest of the wine just to add to your tipsy rambling.

“jesus.” liza stared at you.

“i don’t want to tell you this but i was literally fantasizing about your dad earlier.”

“ew!”

“i’m sorry!” you laughed. “i mean, he’s single so it’s fair game.”

“absolutely not!” she looked at you like you were crazy, and you couldn’t stop laughing as she got up to get more wine, taking your glass too.

back home, there wasn’t anybody you wanted to sleep with. you didn’t really make any friends in high school that you kept into college and it was hard when most of your friends lived in different states. sure, there were apps for hookups and for you to meet new people around you, but you had a thing about technology tracking that made your skin crawl.

liza came back less disgusted with you, handing you your glass. you sipped on it and stared at the fire, not feeling tired in the slightest from how much you walked. beside you, liza picked up her phone again and scrolled, tapped.

“i don’t know why i’m doing this, but there is someone i might be able to set you up with.” she said minutes later.

you perked up with optimism and shifted on the couch. “mhm, give me more.”

“his name’s topper.” she said, her phone illuminating her face with a white light.

“you’re kidding.” you deadpanned, your eyebrows furrowing. you figured she was joking, slipping in a harmless pun.

“i’m not.” she bit her lips together, glancing at you to gauge your reaction.

“what kind of name is that?”

“could not tell you, but he’s super chill and i’m pretty sure he’s newly single.” she said, tapping a few times on her phone’s screen. “he was dating someone from his college for months, but i think they broke up since he doesn’t post pictures with her anymore.”

“i just want to fuck him. what does he look like?”

liza tapped a few more times before shining her phone at you. you squinted from the brightness before your eyes adjusted, took in the photo she was showing you. he was in front of a sunset and you could faintly pick out the dirty blonde locks. liza picked a different one that gave you a better view of him.

you let out a delighted hum, smiling slightly. “he looks like an asshole, but fun.”

“i have his number,” she said, turning the phone back to herself. you leaned your side into the couch, readjusting to keep the warmth. the fire cracked as one of the logs shifted.

“text him.” you prompted liza and scooted closer to her to watch her type on her phone. she found his contact and moved her thumbs along the screen.

hey so weird question but would u be interested in hooking up w/ my friend?

the friend in question is not me i swear

“smooth,” you said as she sent the texts.

“i can’t believe i’m helping you with this.” she locked her phone and dropped it into her lap. you shrugged and sipped from the glass, staring into the fire.

you slipped into a regular conversation with liza while she waited for a text. you weren’t giddy for a reply or asking her to check every ten seconds. it didn’t really matter that much to you if you didn’t hookup with anyone or not, you just thought you’d put it out there.

liza had you cracking up, bent over the couch and nearly falling to the floor when her father came outside onto the porch. you settled as you looked up at him, listening to him ask you both if you were doing okay and needed anything. liza was quick to shut his offer down when you gave her a look, jokingly wiggling your eyebrows at her. her dad noticed, looking between you two as you belted out laughing again, this time landing on the wooden deck. liza tried to keep her laughter in, telling her dad that you were fine and that you both were just a little drunk. he nodded and left you two alone.

“god, you suck.” she said once he was out of earshot.

you were now crying from laughter as you sat up. you wiped your eyes and climbed up onto the sofa, taking your glass from the floor. “i’m glad you invited me,” you giggled as you pulled the pillow back onto your lap. you both continued to shake with the aftershock of amusement.

“he texted me.” liza said suddenly as her phone was back in her hands.

“and?” you asked, leaning your side against the cushions. you propped your elbow on top of them and held your head against your hand.

“all he said was ‘pic’.”

“send him one.”

“okay.” she said and turned toward you, opening her camera on her phone.

“should i pose? how does my hair look?” you asked, brushing the back of it just in case it had gotten messy from falling to the floor.

“do something before i send a blurry one.” liza commanded.

you put your hand back against the side of your face and smiled lightly. liza took the photo without the flash, the fire bright enough. she set her phone down again and hit send as you watched her thumb. you watched her screen for a second then looked away, tilting the glass against your lips.

“he said ‘give her my number’.”

“fuck yes.” you said. you reached behind you for your phone, feeling around for a couple seconds before finding it. “okay, what is it?”

liza read his number aloud as you typed it in. you opened your camera and took a selfie, holding the wine glass to your lips and crossing your eyes. you typed, hiii, and hit send.

after having not touched your phone in the past few hours, you moved out of the conversation with him and replied back to a few of your friends. it wasn’t long before he texted back. you opened the message to find a photo sent back to you, tapping on it with an intrigued smile. he took his own selfie, balancing a beer bottle on his head with his own fire lighting up his face in an orange glow. you saw someone’s back behind him, your eyes trailing down to the drawstrings against his chest at the bottom of the photo.

impressive, you sent.

what’s your name?

y/n! what kind of name is topper?

rich people

thought so, you joked. are you sporting salmon shorts and sperry’s with that sweatshirt?

liza was in her own world as you texted topper. you glanced at her, finding her glass propped on her chest so she could slowly sip it. she was texting like a speed racer.

you looked back down at topper’s new message and laughed.

gray sweats and sandals

socks?

thank god

you watched the bubbles pop up almost immediately. they disappeared with no message then came back.

liza said u wanted to hook up?

you weren’t sure what to say back. your thumbs floated above your screen for several seconds before you decided just to be honest with him. what’s the worst that could happen?

long story short i’m needy & haven’t been laid in a while

you down?

sure when’s good for you?

“i’m going to get some ice cream.” liza said as she moved off the couch, throwing her phone down on the cushions. “you want any?”

“sure.” you said before typing.

think we’re going to the beach tomorrow so how about sometime in the afternoon? i’ll text you

sounds good, looking forward to it

“oh my god.” you said loudly, dropping your phone.

“what?” liza called from the open door. you could hear her clinking around the kitchen.

“he just sent an eggplant emoji.”

suddenly the clinking of dishes was drowned out as she laughed louder than before. you covered your face and laughed too.

—

the next morning you woke up already feeling too warm. you winced as you felt the heat radiating through your body and you peeled your eyes open. you were still on the couch outside and the sun was happily beating down on the deck. you moaned and pulled a pillow over your head. you remembered that you had finished the boxed wine with liza last night along with ice cream and decided to just sleep outside. with the alcohol and walking, your legs were not prepared to function that late at night.

you lay there for a few minutes until liza’s foot appeared and knocked right into your nose. you flinched and held it as it throbbed, sitting up to throw the pillow at her.

she jerked awake and grimaced at you and the sun. “what?”

“you just kicked me.” you said nasally. you sniffed and checked your nose as it continued to pulse. liza yawned, stretching and sitting up to look around like she forgot where she was.

“today’s going to be a good beach day if it’s this fucking hot.” she grumbled. her hair was wild atop her head, sticking out in every direction. she looked over at you as she yawned again. “breakfast and then beach?”

you nodded, your hand back in your lap as the throbbing subsided. you picked up your dirty dishes and phone and followed liza inside to eat. her dad was already cooking when you two came inside and your mouth watered at the sight of food on the counter. he provided a whole display of drinks, fruit, bread, and eggs that had you contemplating about never leaving.

liza told her dad of your plans for the day while you ate. you kept quiet as you cleared your plate, normally taking at least an hour to fully wake up in the morning. liza seemed almost too chipper in the mornings from what you witnessed. once you finished up and put your plate in the sink at liza’s dad’s request, you went to her room to fish out your new bathing suit. you changed in the bathroom and brushed your teeth along with the rest of your morning routine. you pulled on a t-shirt and shorts over your suit and tied your hair up just as liza knocked to see if you were done.

thirty minutes later, you were on your way to the beach. you held liza’s tote bag in your lap, full of snacks, waters, a speaker to connect to her phone, and towels. you were anticipating the beach, wanting to just run into the water and swim all day.

which is what you did for the next few hours. you munched on some pretzels, drank a ton of water that you had to pee several times, listened to music, and laid out in the sun. you soaked up more sunscreen than you could imagine, reapplying at least ten times. the water felt good whenever you swam to the sandbar with liza and back to the shore.

liza was on her stomach now, her hair still damp. she closed her eyes against the sun while you sat beside her and people-watched.

“when are you going to text topper?” she mumbled against her arm.

you watched an elderly couple read their respective books while sitting beside each other in folding chairs. they sat under a green umbrella, the one reading a james patterson novel with their toes poking out of the sand and the other reading a paperback of some sort with the cover twisted back and wearing a large sun hat.

“i guess i could text him now.” you said, hearing her question.

“i’ll probably head out whenever he gets here. let you two be alone.” she drawled.

you shoved at her shoulder and reached for your phone. you found topper’s conversation and typed quickly to tell him which beach you were at.

you want me to head over there?

you weren’t expecting him to text right away, but you replied back just as quickly.

yes

you put your phone back down under your shirt and lay on your stomach so you could keep an eye out for him. you looked at where the parking lot was, a large area of gravel and tall grass. people were pouring in and out of the beach, little kids in thick foam flip flops kicking up sand while older adults with mass amounts of luggage followed after them.

liza sat up, looking in the same direction and drinking from her water bottle. you flipped over onto your back and closed your eyes, listening to the crunch of sand, the distant chatter, the hush of waves.

“that’s him.” liza said beside you. you couldn’t tell how long it had been. you leaned up onto your elbows and looked behind you, seeing topper walking down the small crest in a white t-shirt and bathing suit bottoms.

“do i look okay?” you asked her as she watched him under her sunglasses. her head turned to you and you didn’t need her glasses off her face to know the look she was giving you.

“i don’t think you should be worrying about that if you’re just going to end up taking your clothes off in front of him.”

“just say yes and move on.” you said, exasperated.

liza laughed to herself and lifted her hand to wave topper over. you watched as he put his phone back into his pocket, lowering his gaze to his sandals as he walked along the sand. you pushed yourself to stand with liza, trying your best to not fix your appearance.

“hey,” liza said easily as topper came closer.

“hey, how’s it going?”

“good. this is y/n, as you already know.” liza gestured to you.

“hi,” you said and gave an awkward wave. it was only awkward with liza there, but you knew she’d be leaving shortly.

“hey.” he said and slipped his hands into his pockets.

it made you smile when you saw his eyes traveling over you for a split second. liza saw it too. you let your own eyes wander as liza said something; you weren’t paying attention to listen.

“well, i’m going to head out.” liza said as she bent to roll up her towel. you crossed your arms loosely as you watched her. she picked up her bag and turned to you. “let me know if you need me to pick you up.”

you gave her a nod and watched her take a few steps. she turned slightly to point at topper. “be nice to her.” she warned, making you laugh like she was a parent trying to threaten a boy.

once she was out of sight, you sat down on half of the towel so topper could have the other side. he followed you, propping his legs in front of him as you stretched yours out.

“so, are you just here for the weekend?” topper asked after a few moments. you were trying not to let it become awkward, but he had beaten you to it.

“until next saturday.” you said, glancing at him as you leaned back on your hands. you could feel a shell under your palm, so you moved it to a different spot. “liza wanted me to visit before we go back to school.”

topper nodded, his elbows atop his knees. he glanced at a beach ball rolling by, a little kid chasing after it. “are you guys close?”

“you could say that. you went to high school together?”

“yeah, we kind of had the same friends so we hung out at the same places.”

you hummed as you looked toward the shore. you saw a couple kites over the water, their tails whipping in the wind. “it’s nice here.”

“yeah, kitty hawk is nice. i like to paddle board over at kill devil hills.” you turned your eyes to him, finding him already looking at you.

you smiled lightly and squinted at him. “i’ve never been paddle boarding.”

“really? it’s fun. what about surfing?”

“i tried, but i split my lip. i’m sure if i tried again i’d get the hang of it.”

topper nodded with an identical smile, looking at you a little longer. ten seconds later, your heart lurched as topper reached back and took his shirt off. you glanced away with a slight blush, an inkling of a thought about public sex creeping into your mind. topper then stood and reached a hand to you.

“come on, come in the water with me.” he promoted. you felt your heart settle as you took his hand and he pulled you up.

you spent the next fifteen minutes in the water. you glided your hands along the surface as the waves rolled and topper talked animatedly with you. you were enjoying this part as much as you didn’t want to admit, seeing as that all you were looking for was a hookup. but he was so talkative and curious and hardly ever broke the eye contact. you played with the sand under your feet while he dunked himself under the surface then wiped a hand over his face.

when you got out and dried yourself off with liza’s towel, you wiped your face and looked over the soft fibers at topper. you held the towel out to him, dripping onto the sand. you were partially dry for now and itching under your skin. you looked away as he dried himself off but found yourself looking back as he bent over to wipe down his legs. when he stood tall again, you couldn’t help the way your eyes lingered over his glistening stomach, admiring.

“can we get out of here?” you asked.

topper nodded and handed you the towel. he took it back from you after pulling his shirt on so you could do the same. your bottoms were still wet so you left your shorts off for the time being and grabbed the rest of your things. topper fiddled with his keys, brushing the sand off them as he led you to the car lot. the gravel poked at your bare feet, some pebbles sharp enough to make you wince, but you endured it the whole way to a jeep that topper brought you to. it unlocked with a beep and before you climbed in, you put the towel over the seat and brushed your feet off, not wanting to track sand, dirt, or rocks into his shiny vehicle. it felt too high up for you, like you were sitting on the roof rather than inside it, but you closed the door gently.

—

“oh...wow.”

it kind of looked like a forty-year-old woman threw up. and it was all over the house. every room seemed overly decorated, a bunch of different script fonts with those cheesy sayings plastered everywhere. the house had high ceilings and the paint was pristine. it was very bright due to all of the windows and you wondered if there were any dark spots at all inside the house.

even topper’s room had a hint of a forty-year-old woman in it when you walked in.

“i think your mom went overboard at pottery barn.” you joked. “your dad couldn’t monitor her credit card uses?”

topper closed the door behind you as you wandered in, hands clasped gently in front of you. he tossed his keys onto a dark dresser beside the entryway and paused there at your remark.

“i don’t know my dad.” he said.

you turned then from staring at the light blue walls adorned with framed potted plant prints. “oh.” you said, your stomach aching like you’d been kicked. you knew it wasn’t exactly the nicest thing to say, no matter how you said it. normally you could get away with saying things like that, but you had to remind yourself that you didn’t know topper.

“my dad has a habit of canceling a lot of my mom’s outstanding online purchases so i just thought— i’m sorry.” you shifted on your feet, moving your hands to your sides.

topper only shrugged as you went back to scoping out the room. you tapped your thighs awkwardly as a discarded pair of socks seemed pretty interesting to you. when you looked back at topper, you relaxed since he didn’t come off as uncomfortable. you decided to just forget it and push it out of your head as you crossed your arms and reached for the hem of your shirt.

you left it somewhere on the floor before taking a few timid steps to topper. he stayed where he was against the dresser, watching you closely as you came to him. you leaned in close, bringing your hand to the back of his neck while his hands fell easily to your hips. glancing over his features quickly and landing on his mouth, you smiled softly and asked, “is this okay?”

the tension left your body as topper nodded, staring at your own mouth, before you finally gave him a kiss. another had him opening his mouth wider, and another was a little deeper. you smiled against him.

“what?” he asked, his fingertips poking at your sides, his face close.

“i can taste your toothpaste.”

topper’s cheeks tinged a light pink and he pulled you closer against his body, licking into the next kiss and surprising you. you moaned delightedly and brushed your fingers into his damp hair.

you let your hands wander down his neck, shoulders, and chest. he felt firm in all of those places and his shirt soft. you enjoyed the touch of his hands on your face, exploring a new territory, and holding you close. every cell in your body was cheering with delight, like you’d just chugged a liter of water after a sweltering day. a slight buzz started under your fingertips as a familiar tingling grew in your bathing suit bottoms. every touch had you anticipating the end result.

topper’s skin was warm and taut as you slipped a hand under his shirt and played with the waistband of his bottoms. his tongue was fighting with yours while you were fighting with yourself about whether or not to take his shirt or bottoms off first. you couldn’t decide if you wanted to get it over with or to build up to finally having him inside of you. a moan slipped out at the thought. your finger hooked between his lower stomach and his bottoms when he pulled away abruptly at your noise and reached behind him to tug the shirt off.

as it fell to the floor, his hands returned to your hips to tug you flush against him. you could slightly feel him through his bottoms, the want to stick your hand inside now greater than ever. but he had a tight grip on your hips that showed no signs of letting up.

your breath was heavy with his as he turned the both of you so you were the one pressed against the dresser now. his hips brushed into yours slowly as the edge of the dresser dug into your lower back and you let your head fall as another moan came out.

“shit.” you whispered to yourself, your eyes closing at how good it felt. something so subtle that had your knees growing weak.

topper dragged a hand up to your jaw and pulled your lips back to his as he rolled his hips, this time a little firmer. to only add to the pleasure you were feeling, his hand slipped down to your chest where he groped you gently. he massaged a few strokes as you licked at his lip, begging for entrance. he granted it while he fingers flexed over your breast. you gladly let them wander to your back where he pulled at the strings, the damp silky fabric peeling off like those fake tattoo papers you put on when you were younger.

you pushed your now bare chest against topper’s, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and rubbing the heel of your foot into his calf. he turned you around, his hands rubbing down to your ass as he moved to the bed. you crawled backwards at the same pace he crawled over you, faces still close that you could feel his breath growing heavy.

“stop teasing.” you said through clenched teeth as topper nipped at your neck and rolled his hips into yours.

“where’s the fun in that?” he smiled to himself as he skimmed his nose along your neck.

you wanted to kick him, but instead you settled for pulling him back against your lips while letting your hand rest on his shorts again. his hips seemed to sink lower to you at the feeling and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

your ears perked up at a small noise from somewhere while topper went unfazed and slipped his tongue back into your mouth. you ignored the small disruption and focused on him and your hand, now creeping your fingers along his abdomen. just as you barely got a knuckle deep into his bottoms a sliding door opened and banged. topper must’ve been so lost in where your hand was going that he still didn’t move away from you.

“did you hear that?” you pulled away.

“what?” he breathed.

a chorus of shouts and hollers came through the closed bedroom door. topper stilled and closed his eyes. “fuck,” he said before he pushed himself up and crawled away from you.

your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him get a footing and leave the room. you stared at the open door, partially annoyed at the interruption and the fact that you were left; naked.

groaning, you got up and pulled on your shirt again so you could follow topper. you went down the hall and found him in what you assumed to be the living room, a large tv on one wall and a white couch placed in front of it. the sliding door you heard led out onto a large deck, where you saw a group of guys all standing. topper’s bare back was facing you as he was in the middle of talking to someone, his shoulders tense.

the moment you stepped on the threshold, your bare feet against the cool metal, all eyes were on you. the guy topper had been talking to looked over his shoulder, instant curiosity on already stimulated features. he had topper’s hand in his, his opposite on his shoulder like he was giving him a pep talk.

“who’s this?” he asked, a sick smile appearing like you’d drop down onto your knees in front of him.

you grimaced very noticeably and spoke for yourself. “someone who’s trying to get laid. who the hell are you?”

a few low whistles rang out and you sent glares to the guys behind the one you were originally looking at. topper looked at you over his shoulder and gave you an apologetic look. you were glad he didn’t ask you to leave or wait for him, because you would’ve gladly left. you were starting to feel the irritation bubble and soon you would be leaving.

“got yourself a nice touron, huh, top?” the friend said, his arm looping around topper’s shoulders as he jostled him. his eyes were blown wide and not just from surprise. you grimaced deeper. they all looked like entitled, pretentious asshats and you were starting not to want anything to do with them. liza was totally right.

“rafe, come on, just leave. i’ll text you later.” topper was saying while you seethed at the door.

“don’t be pussy-whipped, topper. just drop the bitch and come try my new stash.”

“excuse me?” you pushed yourself off the doorway and stepped onto the warm deck. topper stopped you, turning out of rafe’s arm to plant his hands on your shoulders.

“woah, woah,” topper said as you sent daggers at his friend. he just laughed cockily at you and rubbed his chin. “can i text you later?”

your eyes snapped to topper’s pensive face in front of you. “are you kidding?” his hands dropped like you singed him. “don’t even bother.”

topper opened his mouth to call after you as you turned and walked away into the house. you shook your head to yourself and muttered as if anyone was listening. you should’ve known better or you should’ve expected less than for someone to put your needs before their own, much less a total stranger.

you wanted to slam a door behind you in annoyance as you went back to topper’s room to get your shoes. you also wanted to yell in frustration when you remembered your phone was still in his truck; you had wanted zero distractions. his keys were atop his dresser and you debated for a second whether or not to take them— you’d just be getting your things and liza’s towel.

just as you snatched your shoes and bathing suit top from the floor, topper slid into the room behind you and blocked the door. “please don’t leave,” he said quickly.

“unlock your car so i can get my stuff.”

“come on, please stay. i want you to stay.” he took a step closer to you, his pleading expression prominent.

“i don’t want to be here with your shitty friends pretending that we might get along when one of them just called me a bitch for no reason.” you countered and took a step to get by him, only to be caught around the waist. he turned you gently, his expression still the same.

“they’re leaving right now, i swear.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“i swear!” he pleaded. “you can go look yourself or you can take my word for it and we can pick up where we left off.”

you held your steely glare, trying not to show that you were reconsidering. you just really wanted to get laid and the situation only added to that frustration.

instead of smacking him with a sandal, you dropped everything in a heap and attached yourself to him again. his fingers worked quickly to pull your shirt back off, running along your sides and planting themselves on your hips. you nipped at his lip, silently begging him to move faster. he seemed to have the right idea as he turned you and pushed you back to the bed. you landed softly, your legs dangling off the edge, as you watched topper stand tall in front of you. his chest grew bigger as he took a breath and bent down to push his bottoms off. you pulled your lip between your teeth, not hiding the way your eyes flickered down to catch a glimpse. your ears grew hot and your skin pricked at topper’s semi-erection, the tip of him glistening. you wondered what he tasted like.

your gaze broke as topper moved to the side of the bed, rifling through his nightstand. you took that opportunity to take your bottoms off, flicking them somewhere in the room with your foot. you flipped over onto your stomach, grinning to yourself at the full view of topper’s butt. taking a nail between your teeth, you bit it anxiously and watched as he found a condom. you couldn’t help but giggle as he looked over the packaging, reading the date. your feet kicked in the air playfully.

when topper went back to the foot of the bed, you looked over your shoulder as he rubbed himself before rolling the condom on. he combed a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.

“good to go?” you smiled.

he breathed in and nodded. “you want it like this?” he gestured to the way you were on your stomach.

you hummed, nodding your head, and moved a little further down the bed so your hips were at the very edge. topper’s hands fell to your thighs and he spread your knees apart, his skin ghosting against yours as he stepped closer. you took a shaky breath in as the anticipation rose higher— god, you couldn’t wait. deep down, you hoped that it didn’t suck. he had worked you up so much that you were sure you’d feel silly if it wasn’t satisfying.

you tried not to show just how desperate you were as the tip of him teased your folds. you licked your lips, biting down on the bottom one and lay flat on the mattress. his hand gripped your hip now while the other guided himself to your entrance. a high-pitched moan bubbled from your chest and slipped past your lips as topper slowly moved himself inside of you. you let out a lower, satisfied moan when he was fully inside, flush against you. your feet knocked into his back as you adjusted to the size of him. topper tried to control his panting behind you, staring down at your ass and himself fully sheathed by you.

“jesus christ,” he said more so to himself, marveling at the way you fit around him. he imagined it would’ve been so much better without a condom, but this was just as good.

just as you were about to ask him to move, he pulled out of you inch by inch. it felt uncomfortable at the empty feeling, but he came back a little quicker with a low noise of his own.

topper kept a steady rhythm, his hold tight on the skin over your hips and his breath blowing across your back each time he thrusted into you. you reveled in his noises, enjoying the low grunts and the occasional moans to mix with yours and the sounds your bodies were making. his skin started to smack against yours, building as your hands tightened over the comforter. there wasn’t much conversation or dirty talk, which you didn’t mind at the moment since you weren’t looking to lengthen this experience out. you just wanted him to give you what you needed. so far, he was doing a pretty good job.

the bed dipped beside your shoulder as topper’s hips still moved. his body moved closer to yours, the heat from his chest seeping into the skin on your back and giving you a pleasant wave of goosebumps. you opened your eyes to find his fist planted beside you, just as his other hand gripped your shoulder. you pushed yourself up to your elbows, stretching your head backwards. topper followed your movements and bent over you, planting a wet kiss to your lips. he continued to move in you, the hand on your shoulder moving to your neck, his fingertips settling on the sides. you breathed heavily into his mouth at the new sensation as a slew of curses rang out in your mind.

topper licked into your mouth, teasing you and playing with your tongue as his fingertips pressed a little more into your skin. you moaned lowly and broke apart from him. he stayed close, reaching down to your ear and nipping at your earlobe. your mouth opened, eyes screwing shut again as you became aware that you were close to your end. maybe if he just squeezed a little more around your neck, you’d go over the edge.

“topper, i’m going to come.” you breathed, feeling your head knock into his shoulder as he still moved. just then his hips snapped forward, hitting you a little deeper, a little harder. his lips moved off your ear, his breath hitting it now. you tightened yourself around him, not knowing that it brought him even closer while you came over him. you held on to the blanket, knuckles turning white while the same thing happened behind your eyelids. your face screwed up in ecstasy as topper pumped into you deliciously, his movements eventually faltering and stopping as he found his own climax. he groaned loudly into your ear, his breath hot, his grip not too tight, and his come feeling warm even through the condom. if only you’d actually felt it.

topper let go of your neck and you lay flat again, finding your breath with a heaving chest. topper watched the side of your face through hooded eyelids as he stayed hovering over you for a moment. the heels of your feet rested against his back; your thighs no longer tight against his thighs as you relaxed now.

your eye lazily opened as the air in the room met your back, topper moving away from you. you could see him out of the corner of your eye as he carefully touched your side and pulled himself out of you. you made a small noise, almost one of disappointment that he didn’t stay there longer. he disappeared from your sight and your legs promptly closed, your feet still in the air even though you ached from staying like that for a while.

when topper came back, condom gone and thrown away and holding a washcloth, he tapped your lower back. you pushed yourself up slowly, wincing at tired joints and muscles, and thanked him before finding your way to the bathroom. you cleaned yourself up inside, peeing quickly and washing your hands. topper was stepping into his shorts when you came back.

“the fuck is a touron?” you asked as you reached for your bathing suit bottoms almost under his dresser.

topper laughed behind you. “it’s a tourist.”

you made a face and pulled your bathing suit top over your head, tying it in the back. “east coast people are weird.”

topper smiled to himself, glancing at you as you pulled your t-shirt on. he was dressed and ready to go when you were, grabbing his keys and letting you lead the way.

once he pulled into liza’s ridiculously long driveway, you thanked him and jumped out, not wanting to make it awkward. liza was in her kitchen when you walked in, hair a little messy but dry.

she looked up at you from cutting some fruit. a curious smile came onto her lips. her eyebrows rose. “how was it?”

you lifted yourself into one of the chairs at the island counter and reached over for a small piece. “i don’t like his friends so i can see why you warned me but i’m letting it go.” you said, popping the fruit into your mouth.

liza blinked at you, not totally understanding but becoming uncomfortable with how chilled you were compared to the other days you’d been her guest. “wow,” she said. “you really had a whole ass iceberg of frustration, huh?”

“i told you.” you shrugged and laughed once you stared at each other for a moment.

you ate dinner that night with liza and her dad, hearing a few stories and sharing your own over wine and lobster. just after you helped clean up the dishes and the kitchen, you felt your phone vibrate in your sweatshirt pocket. pulling it out, you read texts from a number you hadn’t saved.

i enjoyed today

let me know if you’re ever visiting again😉

⭐️taglist of beauties & babes!⭐️

@tovvaa @fttayla @dontjinx-it @moniamaybank @drewstarkeygf @cheshirecat107 @jjmaybankzz @obxcunt @honeyyhemmings @dvakat @macey730

#topper thornton #topper thornton x reader #outer banks #topper thornton obx #topper thornton x fem!reader #topper thornton smut #topper thornton imagine #topper thornton oneshot

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megan-is-mia · 4 years

Note

Stoll procrastinating my homework for this 🙃 it will get done just not now, as for my request #5 manipulative yandere prompt for Kitsune Kalim that is mischievous can you make it spicy too? I just like to scope out your tumblr too much, 😭

(Do your damn homework! You need to work hard if you want smut, thems the rules!) 5. "Don’t think of this as a ‘punishment’… it’s more of a lesson.” (Yandere! Kalim Al-Asim x Fem! S/o) (WARNING NFSW AND NON-CON AHEAD)

(Y/n) wasn’t sure how long she could keep her captive at bay. Sure she had managed to hide in the shrine closet, sure she’d locked and blocked the door. However she was not confident that it would be enough to keep Kalim out. The kitsune had a nasty habit of surprising her in the worst way possible and she was sure today would be no different. Already she could hear the fox-boy prowling outside. “Oh (Y/n)~ Where are you? Where are you hiding silly girl? If you wanted to play hide-n-seek you could have just asked baby” Kalim crooned his voice carrying through the blockade (Y/n) had made as if he was speaking right into her ear. “I wonder, what will I get when I find you? Clearly I deserve a reward for being such a good sport right? You think I’m right don't you?” the kitsune drawled coming to a stop in front of the closet. The kitsune unlocked the closet door with magic and sent the junk that made up the blockade flying as he walked up to (Y/n) who was curled in a little ball on the floor in the far corner. “Aww (Y/n) what's with the face? You’re shaking like a leaf. I’m not mad at you, so don’t think of this as a ‘punishment’… it’s more of a lesson and it can be fun if you play along with me like i did with you and this game of hide-n-seek” Kalim cooed softly. Gently the fox-boy forced the girl to uncurl as he pressed kisses to her neck and began undressing her. Weakly (Y/n) tried to resist the kitsune’s efforts to strip her but her hands were held in place with magic as Kalim continued pressing kisses to her skin as he ventured further down her body. He nuzzled his face against her bosom, groping hungrily at her chest to draw pretty noises from her lips. Kalim removed the rest of (Y/n)’s clothes as well as his own as he spread the girl’s legs open and lined up his cock with her cunt before thrusting in eagerly. The kitsune kissed his darling’s lips greedily to suppress the noises she made. His hands returned to her breasts as he groped and pinched in time to the thrusts he made in and out of the girl’s inviting depths. It wasn’t long before he felt himself on the cusp of cumming, and the kitsune barely pulled out before he spilled his load all over (Y/n)’s stomach. He wanted to wait until they were married before he knocked her up with his kits. This way he also got a chance to play with her further. Holding her legs spread with his tails as he brought his tongue to her pussy and ate her out until she came all over his face.

“See, a reward for me can be fun for you too baby” Kalim said cheerfully wrapping his tails around (Y/n) as he pressed kisses to the back of her neck. The girl was silent, the fact that she would not get pregnant from this encounter did little to comfort her. She would have to find a way to get away from the kitsune before she lost her mind… THE END

#Yandere Twisted Wonderland #Twisted Wonderland #Yandere Kalim Al Asim #Kalim Al Asim

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lovevalley45 · 3 years

Text

#fictober21 day twelve

"You keep me safe."

fandom: dimension 20 (the unsleeping city)

wc: 416 words

Though things had calmed down in the Unsleeping City since the defeat of Null and Gladiator, that didn’t mean trouble didn’t pop in. But Sofia didn’t really mind trouble.

It had been a night of dealing with unsavory ghouls that had somehow made their way to her turf. She had gotten used to prowling the streets and taking down baddies on her own, but it had just so happened that it was also date night.

And well, ghouls ruining date night wasn’t exactly her idea of a good time. But kicking ass alongside Dale was.

In the end, they’d been able to handle them. Now, they were heading back home where her mother was babysitting little Cat. She was sure they looked like a mess - tears covered their nice clothes, along with a few nasty looking stains, and her husband was sporting a not-so-nice bruise on his cheek from a bad fall. She just hoped her ma didn’t notice too much.

“I should have invited you to the Order much sooner,” Dale said. “You really gave those ghouls a run for their money.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Sofia said, leaning against him as they walked. “But don’t sell yourself short.”

He wrapped an arm around her. “Yeah, you’re right. We make a pretty good team.”

“The Order couldn’t have handled us cleaning up the streets together,” she told him.

“Too bad it had to ruin our date night.”

“Look, I’ll find some way to make it up to you,” Sofia said, wiggling her eyebrows.

Dale laughed, but winced. “Ah, yeah, I think I broke something.”

“Aw, poor baby.” She patted his cheek. “Wish I actually had healing.”

“Ah, I’ll be fine after a night’s sleep,” he said. “Are you doing okay?”

“Me? I’m fine. Just got thrown around a little. I wish I could have gotten a little more scraped up so I could get it done cleaner but you had my back out there.” Sofia smiled at him. “You keep me safe.”

Squeezing her shoulder, Dale said, “You don’t need anyone to keep you safe, Sof.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love it.”

They stopped in front of their house. The light was still on in the living room, and Dale turned to look at her.

“All this dealing with ghouls, and I’m afraid of your mom waiting for us.”

Sofia grimaced. “You think we can sneak in?”

Dale looked up at the window to their bedroom. “Oh, I think we can manage it.”

#alli writes shit #fictober21 #the unsleeping city #every day i think abt dale lee's incredibly strong wife guy aura... wish that were me

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dzamie-oc · 3 years

Text

03 - Steampunk

I’ll admit, this is a bit reductionist for a punk story, but gimme a break, I wrote this in only a few hours :P

Length: 2200 words Rating: T (mild description of blood and death) Summary: A factory worker makes a dragon. They grow up together and eventually enact a little bit of class warfare and a little bit of revenge.

-----

Finn’s desk was half covered in a pile of assorted junk - gears, pipes,twisted bits of scrap metal, keys for long-dead springs, and so much more, almost all tarnished, covered in coal soot, or both. However, his attention was focused on the other half, a carefully cleared space with only a few mechanical pieces strewn about, all polished to perfection. Most importantly, in the middle, sat a small, mechanical device of his own creation. Its body was unfinished, exposing much of its inner workings to the naked eye - and the elements, if he let it get that far. A head like a mix of a lizard and a dog, a long, flexible neck, a body that one might mistake for a large, metallic rat’s, and a slender tail which ended in a thin, metal cone. The young teen, with a degree of care unusual to someone with such a rat’s nest of hair, delicately positioned his creation to lay on its back, curled its legs in, and gently inserted a brass key into a particular, well-shaped hole in its chest. Once, twice... three times he turned, for luck.

Through the background din of machinery, he suddenly heard the sound of footsteps and froze. Reflexively, his free hand flew to the ignored pile of scraps, then slowly dragged one over, taking just long enough for him to listen to the footsteps pass by and once more out of earshot. Finn let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, furtively glanced left and right, just in case, and removed the wound key.

Gears and wheels began to spin with a soft whirr, and a look of wonderment spread across Finn’s face as the mechanical legs twitched, then cycled in the air. Its head lifted, letting him stare into its dark eyes, no longer as lifeless as they’d always seemed to be.

“Hey, little guy,” the boy said, “welcome to the world. I’m Finn. I almost hate to dump this on you, but... look, in case I can’t, keep wound, and keep hidden. I wish I could show everyone how cool you clearly are, but-”

Suddenly, more footsteps. Footsteps he recognized, and recognized well. Finn hissed an apology to the dragon and quickly covered it with the nearby metal bowl he’d kept its parts in, then grabbed a part from the pile and set about rubbing it with a rag nearly as filthy as the part. A valve, he realized after his first pass of rubbing - after so many years, his hands knew how to move without thinking, or even realizing what was in them. The footsteps grew louder, closer, and Finn scrubbed at the metal. With a sigh, he wondered if he’d just gotten it dirtier. He went to pass it ahead into a bucket of valves, when-

“Finnegan Shine!” came the shrill voice of a woman who thought herself far more cultured than she knew she could even aspire to. “Just what are you doing with that thing?”

Finn’s “good afternoon, Ms. Springwarden” was cut off by her question, so he looked at the metal in his hand. “I’m... putting it with the other valves after cleaning it?”

Ms. Springwarden harrumphed. “Cleaning it! Just what HAS that first-shift supervisor been teaching you?” She looked at the valve - and at Finn - with a sneer. Finn always thought that, if disdain was an Olympic sport, Ms. Springwarden would have enough gold to live somewhere nice and stop tormenting him - although, he had to admit, perhaps she would still torment him for the fun of it. “Why, I can barely tell it apart from that filthy pile!”

The boy put on a puzzled expression. “Really? But I’ve been going at it with my cleanest rag for a solid minute,” he lied. Of all the people in Alma Vera, she was the last person he ever wanted to even consider the existence of his hidden project. Still, he held up three more well-used cloths, to show her that at least part of his claim had been true.

Another harrumph. “And not once did you think that, just maybe, you ought to trade them for washed cleaning equipment?”

“But Ms. Springwarden, I thought I wasn’t allowed to leave my chair during my shift?”

“Foolish child,” the woman replied, and brought her hand towards his forehead, finger primed to flick. At the last second, however, Finn saw a look of disgust, and she withdrew so as not to touch his, charitably, under-washed face. “Rise and follow me. But don’t let me catch you out of your seat without my permission!”

“Yes, Ms. Springwarden!” Finn said, and stood. The four dirty rags were exchanged for four clean ones, or at least as clean as would pass at his work. Thus equipped, Finn was returned to his seat - the bowl still overturned, to his relief.

Ms. Springwarden crossed her arms and said, “who knows how many valuable components you’ve ruined with your folly. You do remember our motto, do you not?”

Finn nodded. “Quality and quantity, Ms. Springwarden.”

The woman harrumphed yet again, and picked up two of the buckets he had sorted parts into, and dumped them into the assorted pile. “Well, let us now remedy your mistake. You will have to clean each of these now befouled pieces once again, and be quick about it!” She glared at him. “Your work ends when your pile is gone, and not a second, nor a part, sooner.”

“Yes, Ms. Springwarden.”

Finn returned to his task, and after a few seconds, he heard one last derisive snort, and then footsteps trailing away. The boy dramatically picked up his pace once she was gone, and before long, he had undone the damage to his progress she had inflicted on him. Another look left and right, and he placed his hands on the bowl, praying that the dragon truly was still there.

“Hey, it’s me,” he whispered, so the dragon wouldn’t try to hide. When he revealed the metallic creature, it had its forepaw in its chest, twisting the mechanism inside. Once finished, it looked up at him and swished its tail, accompanied by the soft, metallic whirring of gears. “That was Ms. Springwarden. They say that, somewhere out there, at least three people are unable to make that ‘hmph’ sound, because she’s using all of theirs.” The dragon leaned its head down, opened its jaws, and picked up a twisted bit of scrap metal, then shook it around a bit, which got a chuckle out of Finn. “It’s too bad you’re not as big as the dragons I’ve heard the people who live on airships have. You could just eat her, then. Although, I wouldn’t have been able to hide you while I built you.”

The clockwork creature flicked its head and sent the scrap flying through the air, to land in the discard bucket. “Fast learner,” Finn remarked. “So, you need a name. I think... Eve.” He paused. “It’s not weird to name you after an elementary school crush, is it?”

Eve responded by tossing another bit of scrap into the bucket, then wiping her mouth on his hand.

-----

Finn prowled through the dense pipework of the underground, eyes peeled for the rats he was supposed to exterminate. In one hand, he held a bag full of rodent corpses - his proof for payment. The other hand gripped what might charitably be called a tiny harpoon launcher. It looked similar to a certain toy gun, popular among the children of wealthy families, and that was no accident - although he would have the kid he stole it from think otherwise. With a bit of tinkering, a wire to save on ammunition, and a much better spring, Finn considered himself the second best at this sort of job, something that led people to avoid asking too much about the improvised tool.

A squeak cut short, then rapid metal-on-metal clanking heralded the arrival of the first best at this sort of job. Eve trotted up to him, two dead rats in her mechanical jaws. Over the past five years or so, Finn had found or fashioned bigger replacement parts for his dragon until she stood nearly at his waist. Long since unable to hide her under a bowl, of course, the story now was that she was a defective mechanical dog he had scored for a pittance. Regardless, Eve stood attentively next to him, waiting for him to open the bag for her. When he did, one rat fell into the pile of its brethren, and as for the other...

Eve tossed and flicked her head until the rodent’s body aligned with her jaws. A new whirring noise kicked in as sets of wheels dragged it down her metal throat, and then a sickening grinding sound bounced around the pipes and fixtures. The dragon opened her mouth again and wiped it on his pants leg, to his mild dismay.

“You’re gonna have to drop that habit, or I’ll put you back on winding-only.”

Eve went still for a few seconds, but the gentle whirring of her insides picked up. When she moved again, she brought one upturned forepaw in front of the other, then cycled them around each other, and finally tapped her throat.

“Break a habit for a voice?” Finn asked. “Eve, voices are hard to come by. You know I would’ve gotten you one by now if I could.”

The sound of a much smaller creature skittering along the metal ground caught both of their attentions. Finn spun, aimed, and pulled the trigger, and a barbed, pointed pole flew from the tip of his weapon, with metal wire following shortly after. The rat screamed a squeaky scream, then fell quiet, and Finn reeled in his shot and prize.

Eve pressed her paw against his leg for his attention. She pointed her muzzle at the gun, then curled back at her own chest, and then she once again tapped her paw to her neck with an insistent clank-clank-clank. Finn furrowed his brow. “I’m pretty sure voice boxes are in a league of their own...” he started, then smiled broadly at her. “Then again, so am I. Mind giving up more than half your rats from now on, so we can go shopping for anything we can’t find?”

The dragon’s metal plating rattled against itself as she wiggled in anticipation, then bounded off to massacre more vermin.

-----

It was a glorious ceremony. Everyone sported their most elaborate suits and dresses, all in a modest brown. Some of the more adventurous gentlemen had constantly-turning gears on the hats they politely kept in their laps, but no longer were they nor their headwear the center of attention. Ms. Springwarden, soon to lose that name, stood in a beautiful, ornate, white dress, and stared adoringly at the man standing in front of her, who-

BOOM!

A shout rose up from the crowd as what used to be a wall was replaced by a hole and a dragon. The elaborate mechanical creature’s outer plating was a mismatch of bronze, iron, and steel, as though it had been dressed in a junkyard. And perched on its back was a man with a daring grin, who Ms. Springwarden found strangely familiar...

“Well! Ms. Springwarden, aren’t you moving up! The big boss himself, I wonder if you’ll outlast his last four wives!” Finn shouted as he dismounted the dragon, landing with a roll and ending up right next to the bride-to-be.

Without opening her mouth, Eve spoke. “I am confident he will be her husband for the rest of his life,” she said. Her voice was unnatural, amateurish, and it sounded like it belonged in some sterile, form-over-function research lab, rather than a well-tuned dragon. Before anyone could react, she opened her jaws and snapped up the stunned man, soon feeding him to the wheels hidden behind her neck plating.

“Aw! Eve! I had planned this whole quip about how his factories have a great quantity of people and I’m about to increase the average quality!”

“So lie in your memoir.”

Many of the guests had fled the scene, with only a few hiding behind the benches, and Ms. Springwarden herself remained frozen to the spot. “Wh- who...?”

Finn swept into a deep bow, mockingly low. “Finnegan Shine, Ms. Springwarden. My friends call me Finn, but of course you never did. You may not remember me, and I sorely wish I could say the same. But now then...” He stepped backwards towards Eve, who lowered her head and opened her jaws. Finn leaned against her neck, feeling the whirr of the wheels making up her throat thrumming through her metal body. “They say marriage is for better or worse, right? What say you join your hubby in the ‘worse?’”

Eve’s distorted voice joined in once more, saying, “I remember you. That he is offering you a refusal is far more than I would have.”

The woman - having found a worse fate than being left at the altar - took a step back, shaking her head. “No... no. Please, no.”

To everyone’s surprise, the dragon snapped her mouth shut with a loud crash of metal, and Finn clambered back up onto her back. “Then it’s a damn lucky thing I’m not you, miss,” the man said, before the pair of them escaped through the dragon-sized hole in the wall.

Finn hugged Eve’s neck tight. One down, an unfortunate number to go. He just hoped his friends were having as much fun as he was.

#dragon #dragons #smaugust #smaugust 2021 #steampunk #writing #text

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chocoluckchipz · 4 years

Text

A Soulmate for Christmas - 4

< Previous

Marinette rushed through the hallways to the kitchen. She’d been absent for far too long. Hopefully, Maman hadn’t sent out a search party to find her yet. Sometimes, she worried too much.

Not this time, apparently. When Marinette finally returned to the kitchen, Sabine was giving her work to another server with a smile on her face. "Take these next, dear.”

"Oh. Coconut. I love those. May I steal one?"

Marinette froze. That... was not a server.

Adrien gave her mother the most killer set of puppy eyes she’d ever seen, picking the tray up. His jacket was gone, leaving him sporting only a shirt and a vest, just like all the other male servers at the party. Only his were of much better quality.

Sabine offered him a macaroon from her board. "Take this one and leave the arranged ones for the guests." Her gaze finally caught Marinette. "Sweetheart. There you are. I was starting to worry."

"I got caught up with something. I’m sorry, Maman. I’ll get right to it." Marinette walked closer, looking at Adrien. "What are you doing here?"

"Helping." He shoved the macaron into his mouth and chewed. "Your mother was looking for you, and since I’m pretty sure it’s my fault you were missing, I thought it was only fair for me to help out."

"Thanks, but I’m here now. You can go."

"As you wish." The tray in his hands, Adrien turned to the exit and was gone before Marinette could object.

“Such a nice young man,” Sabine said as soon as they were left alone. “We’d better think about how we can thank him. He’s been helping me for the last fifteen minutes. Can you imagine? Just walked in, asked about you, and offered to help. I’ll leave him some macarons. He seems to have a sweet tooth. Speaking of which… I think the next batch is done. Where did I put those oven mittens?"

Marinette nibbled on her lip. How much had he said? Maman knew about her soulmate, but she didn’t seem to realize that he was Adrien. How did she even not recognize he was Adrien Agreste, the boy whose photos had been plastered all over Marinette’s room for ages?

"Did… he tell you anything about himself?"

"Just that he’s your friend,” Sabine answered, taking the pastries out of the oven. “Why? Is there anything—"

A loud thud echoed through the room as the baking sheet her mother was just taking out hit the ground. Sabine pushed the young girl who was working beside her away from a pot of hot, steaming liquid that was falling sideways. The girl stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. Sabine wasn't as fortunate. She tried to dodge but was a moment too late as the boiling liquid splashed all over her hands, scalding the skin.

"Maman!" Marinette rushed to the woman.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl almost cried from the side. “I didn’t mean to… I don't know how it slipped. I—”

Marinette didn't listen, rushing her mother to the nearest sink. She turned the tap on, made sure the water was cool, and put Sabine’s reddening hands under the stream. Her mother sighed with relief. The girl she saved quickly got to cleaning as she continued to apologize. Sabine tried to play it down, insisting it wasn’t a big deal and she would be back to working in no time. Yet a few minutes later, her skin started to blister.

“You’re going home, Maman. This needs to be treated.”

“Marinette, I can’t,” Sabine spoke quietly. “We have a contract to honour…"

"I’ll deal with it. You’re going home. You can’t work like that."

"But—"

"No objections. I’m calling someone right now to take you home. I’ll finish this on my own."

"What happened?" Adrien materialized by her side. One look at her mother’s hands and he was pulling out his cellphone. “My driver can take her straight to a hospital.”

Sabine tried to protest but neither of them listened.

“It doesn't look that bad, but maybe you’re right. Taking extra precaution wouldn't hurt.”

“It never does. I'll tell him to stay with her and drive her home after. If she needs any prescriptions, he’ll take care of that too.”

And there he was. That caring man Kagami and Chloe had told her about was shining through, not hesitating to help others, even if that meant sacrificing his own comfort for those who needed help.

“Okay.” He put his device away. “Gorilla will be by the rear entrance in a few minutes. Let’s wrap her hands and get her there.”

Before Marinette could concentrate on what to do, Adrien found a pair of clean kitchen towels and soaked them in cool water. They wrapped them around Sabine’s hands and headed to the appointed place. Five minutes later, the largest man Marinette had ever seen was driving her mother away.

“She’ll be fine,” Adrien spoke, standing right behind her. “Gorilla will keep us updated on what's happening.”

She couldn't even raise her eyes to look at him. How could he be so kind to her after the way she treated him just now? Marinette clutched her hands together, whispering instead, “Thank you.”

"No worries,” Adrien replied, hesitantly reaching for her shoulder. A few gentle pats for reassurance, and he withdrew. “I believe we have a job to do. Shall we get to it, my Lady? I’m almost out of macarons to serve.”

She turned around, arching her eyebrow. Not that she didn't like the nickname, but they haven't even talked yet. When did she become his Lady? What was up with that cocky, smouldering look on his face, and why were there crumbs all over his vest?

"You’d have macarons to serve if you stopped eating them." She pointed to the evidence.

"But they are delicious."

"They are for guests."

"And I am one."

"Then why are you here, parading as help?"

He leaned closer, their noses almost touching as he grinned. "Because my Lady needs help, and as her cat, I cannot refuse."

That arrogant smirk! She both loved and hated it. Wanted to smack him and kiss those lips of his. He was so much nicer in her imagination. His friends described him as a saint. Not this annoying, cocky dork!

"Don’t get in my way, or you’re out." She turned around and stomped to their bakery station in the kitchen. There was too much work still to do. Marinette wasn’t even sure where to start. Thankfully, the girl had cleaned the mess. Perhaps, Marinette should start with seeing what ingredients they still have to figure out what to make. Wasn't there a list Maman made? Where did it go?

A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind. Adrien leaned down and whispered in her ear, "Close your eyes."

"I don’t have time for this."

"I know, but trust me. Close your eyes. Please."

She grumbled but obliged him. The quicker she did whatever it was he wanted, the faster she could continue. If only his touch and closeness didn’t send her heart into overdrive…

"Now, breathe in. Deep and slow."

She did, oxygen filling every part of her lungs.

"Breathe out. Slowly."

She let it all out and followed Adrien’s instructions a few more times until he tenderly kissed the crown of her head. "Now, let’s do this. You bake and assemble. I serve. And afterwards, perhaps, you’ll give me a chance to explain everything."

She opened her eyes, exhaustion and the chaos in her mind somewhat subdued. "You don’t give up, do you?"

"I’ve waited for far too many years to let a simple misunderstanding stand in my way."

***

"I think this is the last of it," Marinette stuffed the last few mixing bowls in the trunk of her car. "Thank you… for everything. I know it’s cliché, but I couldn’t have done this without you."

"Perhaps, you’ll let me explain the situation as a reward for all my hard work?"

His cellphone rang. Adrien glanced at the screen and refused the call. "It’s Chloe. I’ll call her back. So, my reward?"

His phone rang again, Adrien refused the call once more and looked at Marinette. "Please? It won’t take long."

"Your friends—"

The pestering sound split the space between them for the third time.

Marinette smiled at him."Take it."

"I don’t want—"

"I’ll wait. I promise. Take it."

He pressed the button and put the speaker on, the familiar voice of Chloe Bourgeois filling the space. "Adrinkins, you’d better have a good explanation for hanging up on me."

"I'm kind of in the middle of something right now," Adrien said. "Do you mind if I call you back in a bit?"

"Okay, fine. But just so you know, while you were prowling about, we put on a show, and Gami’s living with me now."

"I’ve been officially disowned," Kagami deadpanned. "You may congratulate me now."

"Welcome to the club?" Adrien chuckled. "I was hoping she would be more reasonable."

"She’ll come around eventually… maybe," Kagami said. "She thinks it’s one of those childish desires of mine, and I’ll come to my senses soon enough."

"But you two are soulmates? You have the marks to prove it."

"Soulmate marks or not, I’m not what Tomoe Tsurugi considers ‘best’ for their family," Chloe answered. "And I’m sure I don’t have to explain that woman’s obsession with ‘sacrificing in the family’s name’ to you. Oh! Before I forget. You were adorable as a waiter, Adrinkins. I’ve snapped a few pictures. Will post to our group chat later."

"Sure. Is that all? Can I go now?"

"Tell him about Marinette," Kagami whispered. "About our conversation."

"Oh, right," Chloe grumbled. "We told your lady-love everything. About Kagami and you and me and all the fake-ness of your engagement and non-existence of your dating life. If she knows what’s good for her, you should be good."

Adrien’s eyes locked on Marinette. "You told her everything?"

"We spared her the sappy stories of you being depressed for months at a time over the whole ‘can’t find my soulmate’ thing," Kagami replied.

“The constant, crying phone calls,” Chloe added. “The ice cream we had to bring over to our ‘Find the Ladybug’ brainstorming sessions.”

“All the pep talks we’ve given you,” Kagami finished. “And the few private detectives you hired to find her. Otherwise, you have no secrets from her now."

"You’re welcome, Adrinkins! Now, go. Adios. Call us when you get a date. We’ll celebrate."

"I will." Adrien ended the call. A blush raged across his cheeks as he lifted his eyes to Marinette. "So, uh... that’s why you didn’t kick my ass out of the kitchen?"

"You have good friends." Marinette smiled. "They care about you a lot."

"Does that mean I’m forgiven?"

She nodded. "Only if you forgive me for freaking out on you."

He grabbed her hand, bringing it to the lovesick grin on his lips. "I never held that against you. You had all the rights in the universe to be pissed at me."

His lips brushed against her hand, the mark of a black cat lighting up the space around them. "I know we haven't known each other for that long, but we aren't soulmates for nothing. I really like you. You're driven and passionate. Kind and creative. You value family and are an amazing cook. Perhaps fate knew a thing or two when it paired us together. I’d really love a chance to get to know you better, Marinette."

His eyes sparkled with hope, a slight undercurrent of worry lurking beneath. Marinette couldn’t refuse him even if she wanted to. He really did seem like a great guy. "I’d like that too. You aren’t so bad yourself. Not perfect, but decent enough."

It was a total lie because who was she kidding? He was perfect! Didn’t mean she wanted to feed that already inflated ego of his.

"Really?" He leaned forward. "So, all my fame, looks, and money don’t make me perfect in your eyes?"

Marinette huffed, pulling her hand away just so she could push his way-too-close face away with her finger. "Not even close,” she teased, tapping his nose. “You’re standing here only because of what your friends told me."

"Share. What did they say about me?"

She let out a giggle. "Nothing too horrible."

"Well, now, you’re scaring me. Did they tell you about my feather allergies?"

"Nope, but you just did."

"Lactose intolerance?"

She chuckled. "Wrong again."

"Social inadequacy?"

Marinette couldn’t hold back a laugh.

"I'm low-key freaking out. What did those two say?"

She took a moment to calm down before replying. "They told me about your big, kind heart, one that doesn't think twice about sacrificing its own desires and comfort for the sake of others. I saw it for myself today when you helped my mother. That’s precious and rare. I like that."

He looked at her in awe for a moment before blurting out, "Can I kiss you right now, or do I have to wait until our first official date?"

Marinette laughed again. "You should’ve just gone for it. Now, the moment’s ruined."

"Ugh, bummer." Adrien mockingly pouted. "Then, tell me, what are you doing for Christmas this year?"

"Nursing my parents back to health."

"Would you mind some company?"

"Don’t you have your family to spend Christmas with?"

He shrugged. "Not really. My father has become a Grinch since… well, since Mom passed away. And I’m sure Chloe and Kagami wouldn’t mind if their third wheel would finally leave them alone."

"They did mention you aren’t on the best terms with your father."

Adrien sighed, leaning on her car. "We aren’t officially feuding or anything. It’s just that… when Mom passed away, Father became very controlling and demanding, stripped me of all freedom, and loaded me with work. I was just a kid; I couldn’t do much about it. Two years ago, I got access to the fund my mom left me, so I moved out. I still work for him, but at least he doesn’t control my every move anymore."

"It doesn’t sound like you’re much of a family, to be honest."

His smile was bittersweet. "Not that I wanted it to be this way. It’s… complicated."

Perhaps she was naive, but Marinette couldn’t imagine having a living father and wanting nothing to do with him. "Do you think you'd want to reconnect with him someday?"

Adrien shrugged. "Not sure anymore. He used to be a great dad when I was little. The three of us had so much fun together…" A smile briefly touched his lips as Adrien paused for a moment. "I always thought if I behaved and did everything he wanted, he’d snap out of whatever it is that made him so cold but… it never happened. With time, I just gave up on even trying." Turning her way, he reached for her hand, gently cradling it in his. "I’d rather spend my time and energy on someone who wants to get to know me as much as I want to get to know them. Like you, for example. Perhaps tomorrow? Helping you nurse your parents back to health?"

Her heart skipped a bit, and he hadn’t even done anything more than look at her and hold her hand. “Okay.”

He brought her hand to his lips again, enjoying the view of a glowing cat on her skin. "I’ll have to give you a Christmas gift later, though. Pretty sure I won’t be able to find anything at such late notice."

"Don't worry about it. I already got everything I ever wanted."

The chime of the clock thundered through the night air, announcing midnight. Adrien looked its way, murmuring something about turning back into a pumpkin. Marinette wasn’t sure why, but she reached forward, hesitantly laying her hand on his chest. The mark underneath his shirt glowed, its light reflecting in his eyes as he looked back at her with the gentlest of gazes. She couldn’t take her eyes away even if she wanted to because the man before her was a far cry from what she’d ever imagined him to be. She was a goner already, and she didn’t care. The feeling in her chest was just too pleasant. Warm. Fuzzy. Addicting. Something stronger and deeper than anything she’d ever experienced. Something much more beautiful and meaningful than a teenage crush.

She couldn’t help herself. Marinette stood on her tiptoes and pulled Adrien down for a tender brush of her lips against his cheek.

He looked at her with wide-opened eyes and a deep blush spreading across his face. "I…um… I didn’t… expect that."

"Is that okay?"

He feverishly nodded. "Yes! More than okay. A lot more okay than all the okays in the world. May I… may I return the gesture?"

"Please.”

He leaned down, aiming for her cheek. Somehow he missed, his lips landing on hers. Neither of them seemed to mind, treating each other to the sweetest kiss one could imagine. Pulling back slightly, Adrien rested his forehead against hers, his eyes locked on hers.

"A soulmate for Christmas. Best present ever."

If Marinette’s heart wasn’t in overdrive before, it sure was now. She couldn’t help but agree with his sentiment. "Merry Christmas, Adrien."

"Merry Christmas, my Lady."

Next >

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#miraculous ladybug #adrienette #soulmates #adrinette #fluff #light angst #misunderstanding #happy end #aged up #no magic au #soulmate marks

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whereismymindnow · 3 years

Text

Shark (Troy Otto x OC)

I’ve really enjoyed rewatching FTWD lately, particularly S3 since Troy was such an interesting character that had so many complicated layers and I thought his relationship with Nick could have been explored so much more.

Anyway, this may not go anywhere, but here’s a one-shot or chapter one of a short fic for anyone that may be interested. I've not posted any fanfiction on Tumblr before so I'm fully prepared for it to flop haha! I do post on AO3 under the name Mikki19. :)

Song inspiration for the story: Plastic Heart by Ciscandra Nostalghia

This fic (if I expand on it on here) will have many dark elements due to Troy's mindset. Consider that your warning.

---

This wasn’t how it was meant to happen.

All of this trouble over some half-rotten fucking apples.

She’d been minding her own business, her hunger leading her to not take full account of her surroundings as she came across the nearly dead fruit tree. Flies buzzed around the apples that had dropped to the floor long ago, but she noticed 3 overly ripened orbs clinging for life on one of the higher branches. Given how she’d been unable to forage much lately, she was willing to try and take whatever bits of the apples were left.

Her nearly empty bag dropped to the ground as she carefully put one foot in a groove of the tree and hoisted herself up. Her vision was blurry and her head ached, but getting the browning fruits above remained her goal. With shaky limbs she scaled the tree until she could stretch up and touch the apples with her fingertips. She let out a groan of pain as she gave one last stretch and grabbed the branch that held her prize; a small shake had the little round globes dropping to the ground with a squelch making her grimace. Beggars can’t be choosers, she reminded herself.

She hadn’t been expecting to hear the rumble of an engine or the large soldiers that slowly sauntered out of the truck. She’d frozen like a cat being caught climbing something they shouldn’t have as one stepped forward. His brown curls and bright eyes gave the impression of innocence, but the shadow of calculation overcoming his face made her realise how fucked she was.

Harper unsteadily slid down the tree and noticed how her bag – that had very little inside it apart from an empty bottle, a Swiss Army knife, a torn and distressed picture of her brother, and the collar of her dog that had defended her until the end – was closer to the man than to her. With a sharklike smile he picked up the bag and threw it behind him for one of his friends to rifle through and cocked his head to the side in wonder as to what her next move would be.

She heard him laugh as she dived behind the tree and ran as fast as she could to the building nearby. A loud scream left her as a corpse immediately launched itself at her as she burst through the door; its teeth were so close to her that she could feel a few strands of hair be ripped from her scalp as it snapped its jaws. She kept an arm pushing across its chest as she frantically ripped her pocketknife from her boot, flipped it open and sent the blade through the walker’s skull. The body dropped to the filthy floor, sending a cloud of grey dust into the air that made her choke. Harper turned her head and saw the soldier slowly making his way to the building she’d just entered.

So, here she was. Trapped like a mouse as the cat prowled around looking for its next meal. She slowed her breathing as much as she could and huddled under the abandoned desk; her hand held a strong grip on the knife but she could already feel her body shaking in exhaustion. She hadn’t eaten properly or slept more than a few hours for days since her camp got overrun by a hoard of the dead. She wasn’t ready for a fight. She knew that this was only going to go one way judging by the firepower that these men had and how clean and well-fed they looked. With any luck she could lose or injure the guy in the building and run out through a back exit.

“You know, I don’t want to hurt you. People always look at me like a monster, but I’m not. If you come out, there doesn’t have to be a struggle.” Harper could hear him in the corridor outside of the abandoned office she’d dived into. The way he sounded so chilled, almost bored or uninterested, made her want to deliver a swift kick to his smug face.

She’d always been a fighter. When the kid in 9th grade pushed her to the floor and laughed, she’d got up just as quick and head-butted him without a thought. When Sophia had looked at her brown curls with a sneer, she’d quickly pulled on the blonde locks until the girl begged for mercy. Of course, her spitfire nature came with consequences. She’d found that out pretty quick when her father started to use a firmer, more brutal hand in order to get her to comply, and her mother had pulled her out of school and begun to slip light sedatives in her food. They were afraid of her, she knew that. They were afraid she’d inherited that rage that had sent her grandmother into a mental hospital at the age of 39 until she died in a medication induced coma at 46. It wasn’t until her brother died when she was 18 that things began to change. Her fire had been reduced to nothing and she walked around the house like one of the dead even before they’d started to rise. Malachi had been her rock. He’d been the only one to believe in her and used that anger that burned within her belly to train her how to wrestle. She soon grew hungry for the sport and had aspired to join the independent wrestling scene as soon as she could break away from her parents. Malachi’s death had changed all of that though. The once bright-eyed girl had been reduced to a withered husk. The fire within had been extinguished and the thought of fighting made her feel nauseous. Her parents had been quite relieved; they’d have rather have her broken than be the monster they were sure she’d have turned into. From then on she’d been a shadow of her former self; she spent most of her days sleeping or pretending to listen to her mother prattle on about one thing or another whilst her father went to work.

She could feel that familiar ache in her chest. She wanted to get up and fight, but her legs felt like jelly and her head was about ready to explode. So, she waited. Her eyes clenched shut as the door to the office slowly closed. She heard the thud of a gun being put on the table near the door and the heavy footsteps of army boots make their way across the room.

“I know you’re under there.” A squeak left her mouth as two large hands slammed down on top of the desk. “Won’t you come out? You don’t even know what I have to offer to you. Those apples you were so desperately reaching for? I can give you a whole basket full… if you just come out.” He made it sound so goddamn easy and simple. “I said: come out!” The sudden anger in his voice made her gulp and slowly stand. Her green eyes met his; despite the anger that had been in his voice, his face was blank as he drank the sight of her in.

Her cropped top was torn and covered in blood, her shorts were dirty and her boots were worn. She was clinging to life by a thread and they both knew it. Her 5’7” stature was dwarfed by his large 6’1” body. He could tell she had been quite fit and muscular before all of this, but poor nutrition had left her looking withered and underdeveloped. He could easily see her ribs and hipbones from where she stood. She was completely filthy and he noted bruises and scratches on her legs from where she had been running wild for who knows how long. It was her eyes that got him the most; he’d seen those eyes before, he saw that same determination and anger every time he looked at his own reflection. She didn’t want to give up, but she was so tired. Her body wobbled in place and she sucked her chapped bottom lip between her teeth in an attempt to keep the sob that was building at bay.

“Come here.” When she made no effort to move Troy quickly reached forwards, grabbed her by the neck and lifted her over the desk so that she was in front of him. He laughed as his free hand quickly caught her wrist as she sluggishly tried to get him with her knife. “Drop it.” Troy murmured softly.

“No.” Her voice cracked from lack of use. “No.” A heavy sigh left his mouth before he tightened his grip until he could feel her ligaments and bones creak under his grasp. “Agh!” Her other hand came to claw at his fingers desperately as she felt like her wrist would break.

“Drop. It.” He hissed with no intention of loosening his hold until she complied like a good girl. The knife fell with a clatter as she swallowed down her pride and submitted. Immediately his once vicelike grip turned into a soft hold and he allowed his thumb to carefully rub the already bruising skin. “Do you see what you made me do?” He spoke like he was talking to a child. “I’m not a bad person. You just need to listen to me.” Troy watched as her face crumpled and she stared at her feet. He was so used to looking at people like an experiment that he was shocked to find his mind wasn’t trying to work out how long it would take this weakened girl to turn. He looked at her in wonder instead. He could tell that she was broken inside. It was easy to see as the swell of defiance was in her gaze but it was overpowered by the lost look. She needed someone to lead her. She needed direction… purpose… He’d give it to her. He could see her at the ranch with him. She’d be in the living area waiting for him to return from a hunt with a smile on her face and no shoes on her feet. She wouldn’t need shoes; shoes were only necessary for people going outside. He was all she would need. She would be his.

Harper carefully looked up at the soldier and blinked as she saw the concentration in them. “Who are you?”

“My name is Troy. Yours?”

“H-Harper.”

“Where are you from?”

“England… originally. We moved to the States after my brother died… too many memories at home.”

“How’d your brother die? Was he sick?” His head snapped to the side as her hand came up and connected with his cheek. Harper was breathless from the exertion but the carelessness in which he talked about her brother made her blood boil. Malachi was a subject not meant to be touched. “Hm… wrong move.” Troy’s grip tightened once again on her wrist as he spun her around, pushed her front onto the desk and pulled her limb until an aching pain grew in her shoulder from the angle. He used his own body to hover over her so that she couldn’t straighten up. “Apologise.” He wedged his legs between hers as she started to flail and kick out in order to avoid the low blow that she was aiming to deliver; his hips stayed firm against the back of her thighs despite the movements she was making. A deep groan left his mouth as her actions awakened the primal urge within him that told him to claim her. Harper suddenly stilled as she felt a heavy, hard length begin to grow against her ass. “Apologise.” He simply repeated, suddenly breathless as his body buzzed from the stimulation. He wasn’t used to this reaction. Sure, he could see pretty girls from those that would probably be a last pick, but he’d never felt this need to claim before. He’d had sex before, meaningless and ultimately disappointing sex with girls that had wanted to get closer to his perfect brother or had wanted a better standing within the ranch and chosen the somewhat vulnerable youngest Otto to try and make that happen, but this felt like more than just an urge to find his way into the warmth between her legs. This felt like something he needed; like the blood in his veins and the air that he breathed. She felt like a piece of the puzzle that would fit perfectly into place and make him feel that little bit more whole.

Harper could feel his hot breath shakily release against the back of her head and shuddered. “I- I am sorry.” She whispered gently in an attempt to appease the unpredictable man behind her. She felt him slowly release her wrist but he made no motion to move away from her. Her back tensed as his hands slowly went to her sides and gripped her hips. He stayed still for a moment, almost as though he was using his hold on her body to ground himself, before stepping back with a low chuckle.

“Good girl. You’re learning already.” Troy leant down and grabbed her knife, a knowing look in his eye as he pocketed it for himself before pulling something else out of his jacket. A thin strip of plastic was in his grasp. “Put your wrists out and together.” Harper exhaled as she looked at the cable tie. Exhaustion was defeating her and he’d taken what little energy she had left. Her body was propped up by the table behind her and she knew if she stepped away then her legs were likely to collapse.

“Where are you going to take me?” She asked softly understanding that she had no way out of this in her current state.

“Back to base. It’s safe there.” Troy stated proudly as though he was saving her and not taking her against her will. “Do you understand? I’m going to keep you safe. I’ll feed you and get you clean so I can see exactly what is under all of this filth.” Harper’s mouth watered at the thought of food and a shower. Her basic human needs screamed at her to obey as she shakily held out her hands to him. He carefully looped the plastic around her wrists and tightened it until she winced; only stopping when her eyes looked into his pleading for some form of mercy. “Are you thankful?” Harper gave a shaky nod under his intense stare that seemed to strip her naked and glare into her soul. “Use your words.”

Harper swallowed down her bile as he raised his brow expectantly. “Yes… thank you, Troy.” His grin was the last thing she saw before her body finally gave up and she dropped to the cold ground unconscious.

---

You look for me Inside the dark I am the ocean You are the shark You hunt me like Your last goodbye Oh fallen angel Of the night

---Plastic Heart by Ciscandra Nostalghia---

#fanfiction #ao3 fanfiction #troyotto #troy otto #ocs #original female character #troy otto x oc #fear the walking dead #ftwd

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specterchasing-a · 3 years

Text

Brainberry Picking || Morgan & Eddie

TIMING: Current-ish

LOCATION: Jericho Hill Cemetery

PARTIES: @mor-beck-more-problems & @specterchasing

SUMMARY: A zombie and a medium meet in a graveyard, one of them might have a foot fetish.

CONTENT: Aside from the foot fetish, all is well.

“I just don’t see how you can have a whole existence that relies on human systems and communities--well people systems and communities and not give a crap just because you’ve been doing it for a long time,” Morgan complained, swilling her chopsticks around her brains and rice. “Aren’t we responsible for each other even if we’re three hundred and some baby normie is twenty? How can apathy be a good thing?”

It was her off day from work, and rather than worry her family by spending the day cooped up inside, she opted to spend as much time outside as possible, even if being in hunting range made her nervous. But Jericho Hill was more ghostly than anything else, and the trusted the soldier to signal if he saw anything dangerous looking, even if he did talk a big game about being specater in the game of humanity, and the effects of longevity. He’d saved her and Erin. He had more of a heart than he wanted to admit, even for a centuries-old kid.

The colonial soldier shrugged and said that she should wait and see until she was older.

“Okay, teen grandpa,” Morgan deadpanned.

The colonial soldier changed the subject by way of nodding toward her foot. Did she require assistance or was she really just that bad at noticing grievous injuries?

Morgan looked down at the chunks of broken bottle protruding from her toes. “Fucking--” She hissed and propped up her foot, starting to yank out the pieces one by one and wipe the black blood on her skirt so there wouldn’t be anything for hunters to find when they prowled at night. Her wounds would close up soon enough. As much as she wanted to sport as much extra strength as possible, she hadn’t figured out how to negotiate her fear of being caught off guard by some junior college murderer and the fear of not being herself.

In the distance, stone scattered across the tall grass. Morgan stopped, mid tug, and looked around. “Hello?”

Jericho Hill, one of Eddie’s most beloved places to visit. The other cemeteries in town had their charm, but meandering among the derelict headstones of White Crest’s oldest burial ground came second to none. As per usual, he arrived with a camera—just in case.

Eddie minded the graves as he wandered, making sure not to intrude on anyone’s final resting place. Midway through the graveyard, he spotted two figures with their backs to him in the midst of conversation. Considering Jericho Hill was open to the public, that would’ve been a perfectly ordinary occurrence, except one of the figures happened to be a colonial soldier far beyond his expiration date. Eddie’s heart skipped a beat at the possibility of encountering another medium but, as he grew closer, he noticed the potential medium doing something with her foot.

Raising his camera, Eddie slowed his pace and zoomed in on the woman’s feet for a better look. “Oh, what the fu—” He stumbled over a semi-interred rock, nearly losing his balance and dislodging the rock in one fell swoop.

“Hello?” said the woman.

Eddie froze in place as if staying perfectly still made him invisible. Realizing she likely had very little in common with Spielbergian dinosaurs, he cleared his throat and waved sheepishly. “Beautiful day, huh? Hey—is your foot okay?”

Morgan stiffened at the sound of a voice nearby. She ran a dozen or so scenarios Mina had drilled into her. She was better at defense on account of nine more months of practice, but that didn’t mean she relished the thought of having to throw anyone to the ground or break any bones.

But it was just some kid, looking like a peeping tom who’d been found out.

“Is it a beautiful day?” She challenged. “Because being spied on doesn’t usually fall under my ‘beautiful day’ umbrella.” At the mention of her foot, she put hers back down and yanked as many pieces out under the cover of the grass as she could. “I’m fine. Why are you looking at my feet in the first place?”

“Hold on, don’t do that,” Eddie said with a shake of his head. “Don’t make me sound like some kind of graveyard-foot-pervert. Look at it.” He gestured towards the foot in question. “That’s not natural and neither is talking to ghosts—hey, by the way, nice to see you again, Terry.” The second half of his statement was directed at the colonial soldier and paired with another short wave.

“Hi, Eddie,” the ghost responded.

“Y’know, I was just excited to meet someone else who could see them, but the whole black goo thing kind of threw me off my game.” Eddie’s attention reverted back to the woman currently picking at her foot. “Also, who eats in cemeteries? I’m just saying, let he who is not being super weird in public cast the first stone.”

Morgan didn’t know what to process first, having her injuries spotted by a Gen-Z wunderkind with a camera, the “not natural” thing, him seeing the ghost, or--

“Terry? Really? You tell him your name, but not me?” Morgan reached over and elbowed the soldier through his arm.

“A man has to keep some mystery with a pretty lady,” he replied, smirking through the gash in his face.

“Now you’re just trying to clean it up. Did you see him coming too?” She turned back to the kid, Eddie apparently, and tucked her feet under her skirt. “Whatever you are, you aren’t the only kind of person who can make friends with ghosts,” she said, miffed but starting to deflate. He had said he was excited. Excited people usually didn’t try to lop off your head. “And for your information, cemetery picnics have been a time honored tradition for centuries. The Victorians designed some of their cemeteries to be enjoyed like parks. And there’s a lot less---” Kids. Couples picnicking. Burger wrappers and empty slushie cups. Life. “Crowds, in a cemetery. I like the quiet. And the company. Sometimes.” She side-eyed Terry, who clutched his chest like he was wounded.

The conversation unfolding before Eddie left him feeling like a child seeing their parents get into an argument. He casually averted his gaze in an attempt to give them some semblance of privacy while they worked through their dispute. Before he knew it, the irate woman’s attention was back on him and he found himself wishing their argument would have gone on longer.

“That’s… actually very cool,” Eddie admitted, his brows raising in approval. “But, um, circling back to what you said about seeing ghosts—I’m a medium, I thought we were only ones with that specific privilege.” He couldn’t help feeling inadequate as he confessed his ignorance. Eddie dedicated his life to knowing about the supernatural, but he barely knew anything for certain. “Who else made the cut? Obviously, you don’t have to, like, tell me what you are, or anything. Not unless you want to, which would be stellar, but… I feel like I should know that kind of thing.”

“Medium, huh?” Morgan said, sizing the kid up again. “I’ve met a few of you. Exorcists, mostly, but still. But, since you asked so nicely, all of the undead I’m aware of and some fae can see and hear ghosts. It seems to be a proximity to death sort of thing, but I don’t know how the metaphysics works.” She set her lunch aside and dropped her hand under her foot to finish picking out the glass, away from view. She was mostly sure he didn’t actually have some voyeuristic foot fetish, but that didn’t do much for her self-consciousness. It was one thing to patch herself up at home, or with dead people who didn’t care, but with strangers, she felt the wrongness of her body. It wasn’t neutral, it was batshit. “You must be some kind of death enthusiast too, though. Coming out here by yourself in the middle of the day? It’s not exactly the nicest cemetery in town. I hardly see anyone alive out here on my visits. Shouldn’t you be hustling or studying or having fun somewhere?”

Eddie’s eyes glistened with rabid enthusiasm at the mention of the undead and fae. He’d only recently learned about the existence of zombies, and his fae-knowledge severely lacked depth. And here this woman was, sounding like she knew a great deal about both.

“Hustling?” he repeated the word with bashful incredulity. “I mean, this is fun for me. Not to sound edgy, but I love the dead. The living are cool too, but… they’ve never felt like home, y’know? All my life, I’ve been surrounded by dead people that either needed my help, or who helped me. I like spending as much time with them as I can.” He tried not to watch as she covertly plucked at her foot. Curious as he was, he could do without further insinuation that he harbored some sort of affinity for feet. “Is that how you are?”

With the last of the glass picked out, Morgan went still and regarded Eddie more carefully. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d met a human who spoke so affectionately about the dead, and she wasn’t sure whether to be thrilled or concerned. “You talk about the living like you aren’t one of them,” she said. “I don’t meet too many humans that apathetic about who they are. But your ghosts--they were good to you? You weren’t ever scared?” But one revelation deserved a little something in return, and anyone that fond of the dead probably wouldn’t sell her out. Morgan pursed her lips as she thought her answer over. “I am recently un-humaned, yes,” she said. “A little over a year now. You could say making friends with death saved my un-life, but I had lots of other help too. Living-people-help.”

The stranger had a point—Eddie never felt like he belonged among the living—but never had the dissonance he felt been stated so bluntly. “I guess, yeah. The living are assholes, for the most part.” There were, of course, exceptions to that rule, but they were few and far between. “Most have been good to me, except…” Eddie shook his head gently. “They’re individuals too, can’t expect them to all be winners.” As she admitted to being undead, he looked at her with enraptured awe. “That’s… wow. I mean, first of all, I’m sorry for your loss. You’ve probably got a handle on things by now, but I’m sure that’s a pretty wild transition. And, I’m glad you had people to help you adjust, support systems are so important.” Eddie took a moment to center himself. “What’s the, uh, preferred terminology for your… condition? Also, wow, I should probably ask your name, huh? Like Terry said, I’m Eddie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He bowed his head slightly to punctuate his sentence.

“The living are individuals too, Eddie,” Morgan said. “And if you didn’t know about undead and fae seeing ghosts, I’m guessing you haven’t met many of the other living species of people out there. It doesn’t seem like a good idea to dismiss all of them out of hand. Or especially kind. Your ghosts were living once too, you know.” But Eddie’s vagueness piqued a troubling sense of familiarity in Morgan. Children didn’t tend to rely on ghosts if they had live people to take good care of them. “Those must have been some pretty shitty assholes to make you give up on everyone alive, human or not. I’m sorry for that, Eddie. Whatever happened to you, whoever was that cruel--I know how it can feel safer to just pull away and not risk yourself again, when you’ve suffered enough in a certain way. And I’m sorry.” She sighed and held out her hand to the kid, smiling sadly for both of them. “I’m Morgan Beck. You can refer to my ‘condition’ as zombie. But that’s classified. I don’t really enjoy having to fight for my existence. Not that a slayer won’t already know what I am on sight, but I’d rather they not get any extra help you know?” Her smile curled bitterly and she turned her eyes to the rest of the cemetery. “Are you really out here because it’s fun, Eddie…?” She asked quietly. “Or is it something else, too?”

When Eddie set out for Jericho Hill earlier in the day, he hadn’t expected a lecture. “Death changes a person,” he said softly after she reminded him that ghosts weren’t always memories. It didn’t take him long to realize the issue with his statement. “Preacher, choir.” He gestured first to himself, then Morgan as he assigned the labels. “You probably have a point.”

Eddie found himself nodding along with her condemnation of ‘shitty assholes’ initially, but he stilled when he heard her apology. His expression fell into unsure neutrality; he didn’t know how to respond. Strangers weren’t usually that kind, and they never read him like a book. It took him a moment to register her outstretched hand before he grasped it with his.

“Pleasure to meet you, Morgan Beck,” Eddie said, mirroring her sad smile. “Your secret’s safe with me. People like you shouldn’t be hunted, anyway.” Her question took some mulling over. Eddie didn’t particularly like being open and honest on that front. “Well, I mean, it is fun, but…” He trailed off with a sigh before shrugging. “Actually, that’s kind of bullshit. I can’t remember the last time I had fun—maybe with Bex or Alfie, but that’s different. Having fun with friends is easy but, when I’m alone…” Eddie shook his head and let out a terse sigh. “Are you, like, a psychiatrist or something? Analyzing brains by day, eating them by night.”

“What? Death changes you? No kidding,” Morgan deadpanned. “You can consider me an expert on both sides of the curtain,” she added more kindly. “Thank you. For your...Human-Plus allyship?” She wasn’t sure what to call it. She confided in so few humans these days. She had enough on her plate with her family as it was.

She kept looking at Eddie, his battered hollowness and his resilient vitality. There was more than one way to be alive and dead, she supposed. “I’m an adjunct professor in the English department at the university,” she said. “But I spent my alive-time on earth literally cursed with suffering, and consequently spent a lot of time desperately wanting to get to know people and being afraid of getting too close, in case they got sucked into my magic bullshit. So I’m good at noticing things and I understand a lot. Like that feeling where you can be mostly okay when you’re with people, especially the ones you care about, but when it’s just you that feeling you’re running from is still there and it settles in. But we don’t have to talk about that, if it makes you uncomfortable. Also, I resent the suggestion that I eat people. I’m actually trying to hurt as few people as possible right now for reasons that have nothing to do with my appetite, which I monitor and manage very carefully. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do that again. You can tell me about how you know Bex, if you really want a change of subject.” Beaming at Eddie, she brought up her knees and let her head fall to rest on them and settled in. She’d given him a lot, but if he was friends with Bex, it was probably best he got used to the ride.

Eddie deserved her snark, even he could admit that. Despite his theorizing, fantasizing, and romanticizing—he didn’t know what it meant to be dead. Against better judgement, he envied Morgan and the way she straddled the line between life and death. It sounded ideal, at least on paper. “I strive to be a friend of the dead,” he said with a mild shrug. “Clearly, that doesn’t absolve me of insensitivity though, sorry about that.”

As she caught him up to speed on the source of her empathy, he listened with enraptured fascination. Eddie didn’t know the first thing about curses, but he liked to think he understood the loneliness she alluded to. “Sounds like you got saddled with a spectator role, that sucks. Most people aren’t built for that.” He hoped he wasn’t projecting, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that turned out to be the case.

“Shit—thanks for correcting me. I shouldn’t have made an assumption like that,” he admitted timidly when she kindly scolded him for his comment about brain-eating. His face lit up at the mention of Bex. “You know ‘er?” he asked, taking a seat in front of Morgan. Knowing she was familiar with someone like Bex instantly eased whatever lingering uncertainty he still felt. “We met pretty recently, I guess, but she’s the kind of person I feel like I’ve known a lot longer than I actually have, y’know?”

Eddie wondered how much information was safe to bring-up, ultimately deciding to play it safe. “It was after… well, she’d just gone through something pretty awful, and I think I made things a little harder on her. Not on purpose, of course, I didn’t know, but… she was really kind to me, anyway. I think that goes to show how special she is.” He neglected to mention the magical mishap; maybe Morgan didn’t know that side of Bex. “How do you know her? If that’s alright to ask, I mean.”

“You weren’t built to be a spectator in your life either, Eddie,” Morgan said. “No one is. We are here to learn, to connect, to experience. What’s the point of being stuck in a body if not to feel? What’s the point of being surrounded by so much mess and beauty if not to learn as much as you can from it? It’s cruel to take it for granted. And it’s cruel to hurt someone in a way that they cut themself off from anything good they might find in their tiny little existence.”

She fingered the tall, young grass as she spoke. She could never settle on a memory to give its strange, invisible touch more substance. When she was a child in Houston and her mother would send her into the yard to practice her alchemy, the grass was thick and sharp. It prickled her feet so badly she’d check her heels to see if they had cut her. They never did. So maybe the grass was like dull needles, or like tiptoeing around the rules, since she would often do her exercises slowly or skip steps on purpose so she could do them over again and make her time out last longer. Long enough to see the stars appear, but before the mosquitoes ate her up.

“But yes, I was really bad at keeping my distance,” she went on. “Which made for a lot of good experiences and a lot of hurt. Honestly, I wish I’d taken more risks, made more kinds of alive-memories to hold onto.”

She couldn’t help but beam at hearing the boy talk about Bex. Nothing he said was news to her, but it was nice to see her kindness reflected in someone else’s eyes. “Bex is staying with me right now. Has been for a while. Well, me and my girlfriend. We care for her as if she was ours, as best as we know how, anyway. So I know,” she grinned. “You’re not breaking supernatural club rules if you want to talk about her.”

Eddie wanted to agree with Morgan, to say that life was something precious and cherishable, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie. Death looked a lot more appealing to him whether or not he made a triumphant return as something a little less human. “Cruel or not, people do it anyway,” he said with a shrug. “I’m coping with it the only way I know how.” Granted, his coping looked a lot more like sabotaging.

Eddie didn’t think much of the grass, it was just grass; everywhere and unextraordinary. All it had to offer him were stains, the thought of which made him shift uncomfortably. He felt that way about a lot of everyday life’s mundanities. They didn’t exist unless they caused a problem. Morgan had a point when she warned him against taking things for granted, but Eddie didn’t realize it. How could he?

“I bet that’s weird,” he said. “Everything changing, but also not. I don’t know much about zombies, obviously, but I know coming back is rough for a lot of ghosts. I’d tell you that there’s still time to take those risks, but I get the sense you didn’t come to Jericho Hill looking for silver linings. At least, not ones given to you by some random guy with a foot fetish.” He ended on a joke in the hopes that it might lighten the mood, praying she didn’t think he was serious.

A sigh of relief passed Eddie’s lips. “Beamed a heaping helping of trauma right into my head,” he explained. “She didn’t mean to, of course, and I’m not exactly mad about it, anyway. Knowing her is worth a little muss and fuss. That said, I learned my lesson. No more alleyways for Bex.”

“Eddie, and I mean this kindly, with the kind of empathy that comes from experience--” Morgan prefaced her words softly, giving Eddie a look that pitied and understood too well. “Putting all your attention on other people’s problems so you don’t have to look at your own doesn’t make them go away, or get smaller. A lot of the time it just makes them grow heavier and sink their roots deeper into you.”

She reached out and gently flicked some of his long hair out of his eyes. “Worrying about me isn’t coping. What’s so bad about turning all this nice attention on yourself? I know people haven’t been kind, but whatever they said or did, they weren’t right about you. You deserve kindness. And love. Being here is hard enough without being cruel to yourself too. But--” She grinned wryly. “You didn’t come to Jericho Hill for a pep talk from a walking dead lady.”

She picked up her Pyrex and ate the last bit of lunch and dusted herself off. “I’m going to go home and prep some raccoon bones for my next art project, if you want to come. Bex has some really great pieces she’s made too. But we know each other now, so I hope you won’t try and disappear just because I know what song you’re playing.”

Eddie listened as Morgan spoke. Meanwhile, his stomach twisted into anxious knots. He didn’t want to hear that putting others first wasn’t the answer. Tackling his problems head-on hurt too much, especially considering he rarely had help. “Yeah, so I’ve noticed.” His gaze fell to the ground. Eddie couldn’t bring himself to say more, it might inspire her to confront him with even more difficult truths. It was nice feeling like she cared, he didn’t expect that from someone he just met, but it was also heavy.

Eddie let out a soft huff of laughter when she flicked a strand of his hair. Such a simple gesture, but the familiarity of it inspired a gush of affection. “Maybe not, but I’m glad that didn’t stop her from giving it to me anyway.”

“Are you kidding?” Eddie asked in disbelief, rising to his feet. “You’re a bone-art making, pep talk giving zombie with a weirdly comforting southern accent. Good luck getting rid of me, you’ll need it.”

#c: morgan #wickedswriting #brainberry picking #/// HNNGH I LOVE MORGAN #kat really blessed us with her existence #and this is actually very wholesome #it gets a little heavy conversation-wise #but i don't thiiiink anything mentioned will be particularly triggering?

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yusuke-of-valla · 4 years

Text

like rats fleeing a sinking ship, pt. 7

intermission iii

<-Previous Next->

AO3

After parting ways with the others at the train station, Ann and Shiho ride up to Ryuji’s house. Despite everything, it’s almost nostalgic. They haven’t taken the train to Ryuji’s together since middle school, and Ann can’t help but smile at the memory of them getting set up to play games in Ryuji’s room or the way she’d always trail behind Shiho and Ryuji when they decided to race to the front door.

They just walk up to the door this time, and Shiho keeps glancing around them as they approach Ryuji’s apartment. No one stops to take note of them, however, and eventually they can hear footsteps approaching the door.

“Look, I already told you I haven’t- Oh!” Ms. Sakamoto’s eyes widen when she sees the two of them. “Ann, Shiho. Come in, quickly.”

She ushers them inside and sits them down at the kitchen table. “Can I get you girls something to drink?”

“No we’re fine. We’re not going to stay long,” Ann says.

“Ah, alright.” Ms. Sakamoto takes her own mug and sits down across from them, tapping her fingers against the mug. “So, how is Ryuji?”

Ann and Shiho share a quick look.

“That’s what we came to ask you, actually,” Shiho says. “He didn’t tell you where he was going?”

Ms. Sakamoto’s shoulders slump. “No. He thought it would be safer if I didn’t know.”

“Did he tell you anything, anything at all?”

“I mean, you know Ryuji. He got an idea of a place he could go and practically ran out the front door, before I told him to at least sneak out the fire escape. All he said was that you’d meet up with him. I assumed that meant you had a safe house or something.”

Ann shakes her head. “No, we don’t.”

“But don’t worry,” Shiho adds quickly, “we know he hasn’t been arrested. And Ryuji’s always been tough, he’s fine.”

Ms. Sakamoto takes a deep breath. “Yes, you’re right.”

After that, Ms. Sakamoto insists that Ann and Shiho take a bag of cookies with them and they say their goodbyes. They slip into a nearby alleyway and Shiho groans as she slumps against a building.

“Well this is just great. We’re back to square one.”

Ann hums. “I mean, not completely. We know it’s somewhere Ryuji thinks we’ll know he’ll be so he probably decided to hide in a place that was very… Ryuji.”

Shiho bites her lip and tries to think. “I mean, I can think of a ton of places that are very ‘Ryuji’ but not exactly ‘hide out from the cops appropriate’.”

“Well, i mean our first couple of meeting places were the school rooftop and the accessway tunnel in Shibuya.”

“Wait, like, in public?” Shiho asks.

“Yeah. I think at some point Yusuke or Makoto called it a ‘refuge in audacity,’ like it’s so insane a place to hold secret meetings that no one would bother to look there.”

“Huh.” Shiho crosses her arms. “Was that your intention when you picked it out?”

“No,” Ann says, pouting, “and don’t give me that look. We didn’t exactly get caught because we were meeting in the accessway.”

“Isn’t that how Niijima-senpai found out about you?”

“No, she found out about us because we were talking at school and didn’t know she was eavesdropping. And Akechi found out about us because he saw us in the Metaverse so that doesn’t even count. The accessway was a super convenient meeting spot and it worked, so shut up.” Ann gives Shiho a playful shove, and Shiho laughs.

“Alright, so we can’t rule out Ryuji’s hiding spot just because it seems too obvious. So should we just check around every place he’d hang out?”

Ann nods. “So the beef bowl shop, the sports store, the gym…

“The arcade?”

“Ooh yeah, we should check the one in Akihabara too since we need to go there anyway.”

“Alright then, let’s go. We’re burning daylight.”

-_-_-_-

Haru gets off the train in Kanda and gawks at the church. She’s heard Yusuke and Akira describe it, but she hasn’t been able to go herself before. It’s a gorgeous building.

She spots a girl in a Kosei uniform staring at a shogi board.

“Um, excuse me, are you Hifumi Togo?” Haru asks after quietly approaching her. There are only a few elderly patrons there as well as the priest at the front of the building.

Hifumi looks up at her. “Yes, is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, my friend Akira said you’re a good Shogi teacher and I’ve been meaning to learn.”

Hifumi’s eyes widen. “Yes, I am. Would you like to join me for a game?”

Haru nods and takes the seat next to her.

Hifumi arranges the pieces. “So, is there anything i can do to help?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard about Yusuke Kitagawa?”

Hifumi furrows her brow and moves one of her pieces. “Well, the rumor goes, he disappeared into thin air.”

“What does that mean?”

“He tends to stay after school in the art room very late so when the notice went out, a bunch of officers showed up at the school building proper and his dorm. He was in the art room, and the police shooed everyone else still in the school away from the building before going to collect him. But apparently someone heard from their brother who overheard the janitor talking about how Kitagawa was nowhere to be seen when the police opened the door to the art room. They tore the building apart, apparently, but he’d disappeared into thin air.”

“And no one’s heard anything since?”

“No.”

Haru closes her eyes and counts her breaths. When she opens them again, Hifumi is watching her with concern.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m just concerned,” Haru says. Tears are starting to well up in her eyes. “It’s just, I don’t know where half of my friends are, and they’ve done so much for me when I was practically a stranger, and what did that get them? They were led into a complete trap by going after my father, and now Shido wants to finish the job.” Haru’s nails bite into her palms. “I keep trying to stay calm and telling myself it’ll be fine, but then I think of all the reasons it isn’t and-”

Hifumi slams a piece down on the board. “Enough of that. You have to stay strong. If you accept defeat, then you’re sure to lose. You have to keep your chin up, no matter what. You can still win this. I know it’s not obvious but I’ve heard people in school talking. They may not be numerous, but there are people who still believe in the Phantom Thieves, including myself. You can’t wallow in despair while there’s still something you can do.”

Haru blinks. “Oh.” She wipes her eyes. “Yes, of course. You’re right. I’m sorry to unload that on you, I was just-”

“You’re fine. I know we’ve just met under less than ideal circumstances, but like I said I believe in your cause. If you need someone to talk to, I’ll be here.”

“Thank you, Togo-san.”

“Well you can call me Hifumi for one thing. And for another, I want to help in any way that I can. Any friend of Akira’s is my friend.”

“Thank you, Hifumi.” Haru stretches out her hand. “By the way, I’m Haru Okumura.”

They finish up their games and Hifumi writes down her number for Haru for when Haru can safely use a phone again, and they part ways.

Haru feels better on the train ride back, so much so that she doesn’t notice the boy in a Shujin uniform staring at her, at first.

But, when she gets off the train in Shibuya, she catches the boy following her. Instead of making the connection back to Yogen-Jaya, she walks around the Underground Mall to try and lose him. Eventually she does, but it’s only a moment of respite before she sees a police officer heading towards her.

Haru moves quickly, sprinting up the stairs into Station Square, and tries to get lost in the crowd. She slips down another set of stairs and tries to calm down, in case someone passes by.

She hears some commotion and pokes her head out to see more officers walking by and coming closer.

“Listen to me! I saw who you’re looking for. The Phantom Thief-”

Haru holds her breath and starts looking for a way out.

“-just went towards Central Street.”

Haru stops and turns towards the man who was talking. He’s clearly a politician who was campaigning in front of her hiding spot. The cops nod to him and run off, followed by a crowd of onlookers.

Haru waits for a few minutes, when the man says, much softer, “Are you alright dear?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you. I take it you’re Mr. Yoshida?” Haru asks. “A friend of Akira’s

The man gives a sheepish smile. “Well, yes. How is Kurusu doing?”

“We’re all holding it together the best we can,” Haru replies.

“I’m so sorry all of this is happening to you, to think people would actually believe the Phantom Thieves would kill someone, and be so quick to turn against a group of children. It’s shameful.”

“Well, not everyone’s turned against us. Thanks, you really saved me there.”

“Happy, to help. Now hurry along, before you get caught again.”

Haru waves to Yoshida and walks back to the train station, where she bumps into Ann and Shiho.

“Hey, how’s it going?” Haru asks.

“We’re still looking for Ryuji,” Shiho says. “We’re about to check Akihabara.”

“I’ll go with you, but we’ve gotta be quick. I was just recognized.”

Ann and Shiho nod, and they head onto the train. On the ride over they fill Haru in on what happened with Ryuji’s mother.

In the arcade, a boy with a red hat and blue letterman jacket spots them, his eyes widening instantly.

“Crap, I think we just got recognized,” Ann mutters.

Before they can leave, the boy sprints over to them. “Hey. You’re the Phantom Thieves, right?”

“No,” Shiho says, blocking his view of Ann, “I think you’ve gotten us mistaken for someone else.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure you’re them. Listen, I think I saw your friend walk by here a little while ago.”

“Are you sure?” Haru asks.

“Almost positive.”

“Can you show us where?” The boy nods, and leads them out of the arcade. “I just saw them pass by a little while ago.”

“Let’s split up,” Ann says, and they split down the middle, checking the nearby alleyways.

“Ryuji, are you here?” Ann whisper-shouts. Ryuji doesn’t poke his head out, but someone else does.

“Makoto?” Ann, gasps.

“Shh, there were cops prowling around here earlier.” Makoto pulls her into the alleyway, then a giant hug. “I’ve been so worried about you guys.”

“Us too, but hold on.” Ann goes back to the mouth of the alleyway and waves Haru, Shiho, and the kid over.

“Ann what is it- Makoto?” Haru doesn’t waste a second wrapping Makoto in a hug.

“Suzui?” Mishima steps out from behind Makoto.

Shiho grins. “Helping out too, huh Mishima?”

“Yeah.”

“How are the others?” Makoto asks.

“Well we’ve met up with Akira, Akechi, and Morgana, and they’re getting help. Luckily Akira has a lot of friends in different places,” Haru says.

“We’re planning on securing the route to Shido’s Treasure tomorrow,” Ann says.

“Cutting it close on Sae and Sojiro’s trial date, but when haven’t we?” Makoto says with a smile. “Alright, we meeting the others?”

Shiho nods. “We should be getting back to Yogen-Jaya soon, actually.”

“So, the Phantom Thieves are gonna go after Shido next?” Mishima asks.

“Awesome,” the kid says.

“Oh, I’m sorry, we never got your name,” Ann realizes.

“Shinya Oda. I’m a friend of Akira’s. He totally you guys were the Phantom Thieves before anyone else.”

“I’m pretty sure I knew first,” Mishima says. “I mean I am the Admin of the PhanSite.”

“Really? That’s cool so you’re like Mission Control?”

“Yeah, sorta.”

“We have to go,” Ann says. “Mishima, Shinya. Are you going to be ok?”

“Yeah, totally,” Shinya says.

Mishima nods, “Don’t worry, we won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Thank you,” Haru says, “we seriously couldn’t have gotten by without you guys.”

“If you wanna thank us, then kick Shido’s butt for us.” Shinya says.

“Yeah, what he said.”

They say goodbye to Shinya and Mishima, then rendezvous with the others back at Takemi’s office, the sun having set.

Akira and Akechi introduce them to Kasumi properly, and the two groups fill each other in on what everyone else found.

“He just said ‘we’d know where he is’?” Morgana asks once Shiho and Ann finish explaining what happened with Ryuji’s mom.

“Apparently,” Shiho says.

Ann twists one of her pigtails around her finger. “We’ve been trying to figure out what’s a Ryuji place to go but we haven’t had any luck.”

“Maybe it’s less a matter of us trying to think of where Ryuji would go,” Makoto suggests, “and more Ryuji going someplace he thinks we would go.”

“And where would that be?” Akechi asks.

Akira closes his eyes and thinks for a moment. Then it hits him.

“I think I know where he is,” Akira says. “If I’m right, then we can all meet at the Diet Building tomorrow,” he shouts as he’s running off.

“Akira, where are we going?” Morgana asks from the bag.

The train isn’t going nearly fast enough, and Akira sprints down Central Street to the familiar sign of Untouchable. When he gets inside, Iwai is the only person there.

“Iwai, has my friend been here at all?” Akira asks, slamming his hands on the counter.

Iwai frowns. “Geez kid, calm down, you’ll draw way too much attention.” He tilts his head behind him. “Back room.”

Akira practically leaps over the counter, causing Morgana to yelp, and rushes towards the back room.

In the hallway, he practically runs face first into Ryuji.

“Akira!”

“Ryuji!” Akira gives him a massive hug.

Ryuji laughs. “Took you long enough dude.”

Morgana pokes his head out of Akira’s bag. “You’ve just been at Untouchable this whole time?”

“Yeah. Figured we’d be going after Shido at some point, and that meant getting weapons, plus I knew Iwai hates cops so it seemed like the perfect place.”

“This kids been eating all of my ration bars,” Iwai calls from the front.

“Heh, sorry,” Ryuji calls back. “But seriously, Iwai’s been super cool. Especially since I kinda showed up like a crazy person. Kaoru’s cool too, he’s been playing cards with me to help me not go insane coped up back here. Oh, also I’ve been learning about guns and shit while I’m here.”

“Glad to hear you’re doing well, then.” Morgana says. “We were all starting to get worried about you.”

“Aww, miss me Mona?”

“Not more than anyone else.” Morgana snaps.

Ryuji laughs again and Akira feels so much better hearing it. Ryuji’s confidence has always been infectious.

“So, wanna fill us in on what happened to you?” Morgana asks.

“Sure.”

#alto writes #on the run au #ann takamaki #shiho suzui #haru okumura #hifumi togo #toranosuke yoshida #shinya oda #makoto niijima #mishima yuuki #wordcount: 2000-2500 #queuety and vice

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afterspark-podcast · 3 years

Text

G1 Episode 42: Transcript

[This can also be found on AO3!]

[Stinger]

O: But that's because he acquired a dog!

[Intro Music]

O: Hello, and welcome to the Afterspark Podcast, an episode by episode recap of the Generation 1 Transformers cartoon. I'm Owls!

S: And I'm Specs.

O: And today we're going to be talking about episode number 42: The Autobot Run. Let's talk about giant robots today, shall we?

S: Yeah!

O: So once upon a time... on a racetrack.

S: Spike and Chip get a brilliant idea: What if the other boss participated in racing?

O: Bumblebee arrives and says, “One limo-bot at your service,” uh, which is adorable, might I add?

S: Spike asks Bee how he feels about racing.

O: Bee is decidedly not a speedster as he seems down for it as long as it's under the speed limit, which also amusingly, goes against the fact that he totally got pulled over for speeding in an earlier episode but whatever.

S: Yeah, yeah that's true. Laserbeak overhears this exchange.

O: I'm not exactly sure how any of this is going to help the Decepticons but all right.

S: The Decepticons are just- they're here to gather all the information they can.

O: It's Laserbeak's job. I- I am just imagining him picking up on the most mundane information and, like, having to pass it off to Soundwave because it's his job.

S: Yeah, oh god, they probably have terabytes of information stored someplace.

O: [Laughter] Probably.

S: Yeah. Elsewhere, in a weirdly well-preserved old west town, the Constructicons are finishing the dumb 80’s weapon of the week. The, um, Transfixatron which sounds like could be a lot of things, but probably not what you're expecting.

O: Uh, which is, of course, a purple gun mounted on a weird stand thing.

S: Yep. Laserbeak's arrival causes Megatron to go off model and resemble Homer Simpson for a split second in the mouth department.

O: Which is very unnerving.

S: Yeah and I- I keep envisioning it right now and it is definitely very unnerving.

O: Very, very, very unnerving. Um, Laserbeak hops into Soundwave’s chest compartment and reports on the doings of the Autobots’ human allies, and the Autobots too, I guess. Since Bumblebee was there.

S: Yeah, Megatron is going to make good use of this information about the, uh, proposed Autobot race.

O: Again, not sure how but okay, buddy!

S: Yeah, but, uh, first he's gotta test out his new toy! Much to the chagrin of Starscream, who really does not approve that they're not beating up the Autobots right now.

O: You know, I think he's just salty that Megatron had the Constructicons build his new toy instead of him.

S: Yeah, that sounds- that sounds on brand. He calls it an idiotic contraption.

O: Of course the moment Megatron threatens to use it on Starstream, as his first test subject, suddenly Starstream changes his tune on if the device might work or not. “After all, what's a test without a guinea pig-atron.” Yes, Megatron said that word for word.

S: Guinea pig has clearly entered the Decepticons lexicon.

O: Yes, so Megatron picks up the entire gun which, again, I remind you is on a base, uh, and, uh, shoots Starscream.

S: Why does it have a stand at all? Maybe just get a shoulder strap or a harness or something for it? Or a table? Do they not want to draw a table? This is a very stupidly designed contraption.

O: Which, you know, is per the norm for 80's cartoons. At first, it appears that the gun has done nothing to Starscream.

S: Starscream responds just about how you'd expect, mock-mocking Megatron for his high-tech garbage.

O: But Megatron tells Starscream to try and transform, which, of course, he can't because that's the entire function of the Transfixatron.

S: Transfixing you in your-

O: Alt.

S: Altmode, yeah. And so Shockwave suddenly appears standing next to Megatron despite not being in any of the previous shots?

O: I also don't think he shows up again in this episode. He certainly doesn't have any lines.

S: Yeah, he just- poof. He's just taking a mini vacation.

O: Assumably he wanted off Cybertron for a while.

S: [indistinct] Yeah.

O: Uh, Starscream begs Megatron to return him to normal.

S: They bicker, there's some back and forth. Megatron threatens to leave him this way forever.

O: Starscream says, “But I'm too valuable to you!” I'm too good of a lay, boss you can't do this.

S: Megatron tells him to stop whining and, uh, returns Starscream to normal. He then monologues a bit about how they're going to use the Transfixatron on the Autobots and then commands the Constructicons to, “Get started on the second device.”

O: So we don't just get one silly 80’s weapon of the week, we get two in this episode!

S: Gee, I wonder what it looks like.

O: [Laughter] The answer to that might surprise you!

S: This inexplicably involves Hook plunging his namesake into the ground to begin excavating- with his hook. The Constructicons, well, the other Constructicons begin digging in a much more sensible manner.

O: Now at the Ark, uh, Chip and Spike are on the cusp of convincing Optimus Prime of their charity racing idea.

S: The other Autobots all seem pretty for it.

O: Ironhide wants some action or he'll rust. I'm not sure if I had Ironhide’s alt that racing would be my first choice of a leisure activity, but more power to you buddy.

S: Obviously he's just going to use his multitude of weaponry to booby-trap the track. I mean, who knows? Maybe he's got some sort of rocket booster?

O: [Laughter] More of the rocket-powered fist!

S: Yeah, or at least everybody but Huffer is into the idea. Frankly, I have to wonder where Red Alert is because he'd probably be having a conniption.

O: Okay, he is locked up in his room monitoring things, probably. And it's like, “I don't see it, I don't hear it, it does not exist,” I imagine. Uh but, of course, this means Huffer is voluntold that he gets to stay and watch the base.

S: Yep, ah, Huffer who gets to be responsible today, but Brawn, Ratchet and Wheeljack stay behind to keep him company.

O: Which is weird, because isn't Wheeljacks’ alt a race car?

S: Yeah, he's a Lancia Stratos.

O: You’d think he'd be more into this.

S: Maybe he's just not that big into going around- around- around- around in a circle. It's just not so exciting for him.

O: I-I do like the idea of somebody who definitely does not have the personality of a race car being put into the body of a racing car like- you know, he's a scientist in all- all reality he should be like, uh, um, a sedan or something, but- but he got stuck in the body of a race car!

S: Optimus leads the rest of the Autobots out with the call of: “Roll for the show!”

O: At the racetrack, with our celebrity guests, the Autobots.

S: Our roster for today is: Cliffjumper, Bluestreak, Jazz, Prowl, Sideswipe, Ironhide, Hound, Sunstreaker, Optimus, Trailbreaker, Mirage, Windcharger, and Gears.

O: Huffer was too cranky to come but Gears is just fine with this today.

S: He's a sporty little car, he can have a little racing, you know, as a treat.

O: [Laughter] Uh, one man from the audience jumps up and says, “Hey! Where are their cars?!”

S: Honey, honey, they are the cars.

O: Has this man been living under a rock for a year or so, or however long they've been there and missed the whole giant transforming alien robots bit?

S: Very probably.

O: Jesus!

S: I'm going to go with a ‘yes’ here.

O: Where do you live, man? I-I would like directions because I would like to not be in society right now. Um, so we see Bumblebee chilling off to the side with Chip and Spike as the two- ah, the three of them, rather, watch the race.

S: He doesn't really seem like he cares for sports.

O: He likes the speed limit just fine, thanks. That's what he said to the- I know, it's funny.

S: Mostly I'm just wondering if he was involved in that episode where Optimus plays basketball or whatever.

O: I can't remember. I- like, I'm remembering like Sunstreaker and, I think, Sideswipe but I don't- I don't remember if Bee was involved with the basketball or not.

S: I feel like he wasn't, but yeah, I don't remember so, yeah, he's just- Bee does not care about sports, yeah. Ah, the Autobots, predictably, transform and line up at the starting line.

O: The race begins!

S: Ironhide and Trailbreaker rib each other a little bit as neither of them seems terribly quick.

O: Sunstreaker leaves the rest in the dust, taunting them as he goes by. Oh, my beautiful idiot.

S: Mirage being an actual Formula One race car also pulls ahead and Jazz decides they need a soundtrack.

O: Which I would think driving around in circles would be boring so, I don't know, that seems like a very good call to me.

S: Yeah, Optimus Prime is inexplicably close to the lead, I mean, maybe everyone is-

O: Too afraid to pass him?

S: Maybe, or they're all just chill and this is their equivalent of jogging around a track.

O: [Laughter] Okay, that's kind of funny. Suddenly! Skywarp appears overhead, transforming into his root mode and pulling the Transfixatron out of his ass.

S: Subspace, hammer space, wherever Optimus hides his trailer.

O: Skywarp hits all of the Autobots on the track with the Transfixatron.

S: Spike sees this and says, “What was that?”

O: Bumblebee responds with something about energy evaporation from all the speed.

S: Bumblebee responds with bullshit.

O: [Laughter]

S: Let's just be straight about this.

O: Skywarp teleports away, meeting back up with the Decepticons

S: Megatron actually praises him.

O: Again, he really seems to like Skywarp.

S: Back on the racetrack, Ironhide asks Trailbreaker if he felt anything weird.

O: And then Trailbreaker, again, ribs him because Ironhide’s in last place and, really, when you get down to it they are in a race of two and are really only up for who's not in last place right now because they are both very slow.

S: Yeah, the group approaches the finish line with Jazz and Mirage out in front.

O: We're not really told who wins but it's safe to assume it was either Jazz or Mirage or, maybe, both of them.

S: Yeah. On to the next event on the docket for today: The Autobots’ incredible car stunts.

O: Sunstreaker has all the other Autobots line up so he can jump over them off, you know, jump off a ramp over them, rather.

S: Ah, time to be a daredevil. Some of the Autobots dislike this idea more than others, but they all, you know, comply and line up.

O: Optimus tells Sunstreaker he won't be able to make it.

S: Spoiler alert: Sunstreaker does not make it.

O: But! Sunstriker is saved by some quick thinking by Windcharger, who catches him with his magnets.

S: And the crowd seems to love it anyway, so: Mission accomplished!

O: Mirage catches sight of the Decepticons and the Autobots attempt to transform. Of course Megatron lands in front of them and gloats.

S: It's Megatron, I mean, that's what he does, it's what he loves.

O: It's what he lives for.

S: Then Megatron uses- utilizes some eye lasers to chase the humans away.

O: When did he get eye lasers!?

S: He's just had so much stupid shit installed.

O: [Deadpan] Help the Autobots are in danger, cut to commercial.

S: Is this a facelift for Decepticons?

O: I don't know.

S: The Decepticons attack and with the Autobots in car mode they aim for the tires.

O: Bee gets Spike and Chip out of there before they're noticed and heads back to the Ark.

S: Ironhide tells everybody to, “Push past that flat tire,” but they start taking hits from Thundercrackers’ incendiary blasts.

O: Ironhide says, “I'm getting sunburnt on the inside!” Push past it, Ironhide, push past it!

S: Soundwave then disables the Autobots communicators and Megatron says to, “Take them away.”

O: Bee’s plan actually worked quite well and the Decepticons never noticed them at all and they were able to get back to the Ark and tell the remaining Autobots basically all this shit went down.

S: Yup. Huffer bitches and moans before Brawn threatens to put his, “Footio into his audio.”

O: That's not even clever.

S: It isn't.

O: I know what I'm watching. [Laughter] Uh, Chip uses Teletraan I and he, Wheeljack, and Ratchet are very quickly able to come up with a hypothesis for what could have caused the Autobots to not be able to transform.

S: Ratchet and Wheeljack get to work. They got some business to take care of.

O: Good thing, too- they left two of the scientists behind. Where's Perceptor?

S: Yeah, and Beachcomber? I mean-

O: They're just off today, apparently!

S: Maybe Beachcomber took the- the Dinobots out?

O: Yeah, that's just the right recurring joke at this point is he- he babysits the Dinobots in his downtime.

S: Beachcomber and Perceptor took the Dinobots out on an expedition-

O: So, Ratchet and Wheeljack could have a nice, quiet couple's day at home and then this happened.

S: Yes.

O: Gotcha. Back in the old west, Megatron unveils his second bullshit machine.

S: Guess what it does? Guess what it does? It's gonna eat the Autobots!

O: That's what he says but that thing has fucking tentacles. Remember what I said, is what you didn't expect? It has fucking tentacles! And, you know, it makes me think, remember that episode of the giant supercomputer, TORQ III, and the weird kink machines he was using against the Autobots? I am just saying he did that after being corrupted by Megatron. After!

S: Yeah.

O: Megatron! Has a thing! For kink machines!

S: Yeah, the machine is really dark purple-

O: Of course.

S: It has a large grabby claw and a crusher at the top and also, weirdly enough, smaller tentacles.

O: Don't know what to do with your machine? Add more tentacles!

S: Apparently. Well, I mean, the whole theoretically them coming from the Quintessons, kind of makes that all really-

O: It does make a little bit more sense with that, doesn't it? Hmm.

S: Yeah, time to shudder.

O: [Laughter] Ironhide cuts off Megatron with the sentiment of, ‘Oh, just kill us already,’ rather than have to listen to him talk.

S: Then, of course, Megatron wants to demonstrate to them exactly how they're going to die but so the Cons toss in some stuff to show the Autobots how they're going to get crushed. Did they just go off and grab some junk for this?

O: I assume? Maybe it was spare parts from the machine- or like, they didn't use when building the machine?

S: Maybe.

O: While all this is going on, Hound is able to transmit a single image to the Ark, despite their communicators being disabled.

S: Teletraan I is able to triangulate their exact location based on this one image which, I guess, is not out of the realm of possibility.

O: It still seems kind of silly.

S: Yeah.

O: Um, Soundwave being, you know, the only competent one here realizes that something's up pretty quickly and shoots Hound's gun that was also acting as his transmitter?

S: He's the guy who does the... holograms!

O: Yes.

S: That was what I was... yeah, so yeah. Who knows what the fuck Hound can do. Megatron's new machine spits a tiny little block of crushed metal out so apparently he was concerned with how much space his enemy's corpses would take up.

O: At least he's not littering?

S: I guess? I mean you can always recycle material but I guess he's an evil villain so, uh, yeah.

O: [Laughter] He's going to build a house out of his enemy’s corpses is what I'm getting from this, okay. It's gonna have an entire fortress of Autobots.

S: I think, more likely to do a chair out of corpses.

O: That's true, there aren't that many Autobots there.

S: Yes, but I think there's also a weird precedent for that in the comics.

O: Yeah, probably.

S: Megatron tells the Constructicons to make Ironhide the first target and the Autobots surround him like circling up the wagons and the- but the Constructicons just sort of casually pick them up and toss them over to the side and get to Ironhide anyway.

O: Because, again, they're all stuck in car mode.

S: Yea.

O: Uh, back at the Ark, Wheeljack and Ratchets’ labors have produced, the Holy Hand Grenade!

S: [Laughter] This will apparently create energy waves that will allow the others to go back to normal.

O: Unfortunately, there's no time to test if this will work so off they go to try to save their friends.

S: Back with the Cons, Ironhide is in the grasp of the purple, chompy machine and about to be eaten but Optimus sends out Roller. It's Roller time, guys!

O: Duh-duh-na-na!

S: Jazz hands.

O: Jazz doesn't have any hands right now. [Laughter] Sorry.

S: Jazz speakers, then!

O: [Laughter]

S: Uh, Roller begins, uh, weaving between the Decepticons’ legs as they all start shooting at him.

O: The rest of the Autobots arrive just in time.

S: And Ratchet gets to be Ironhide again because he's miscolored. Again.

O: So, Ironhide is about to get eaten and is also driving up to himself.

S: Good times, good times, guys.

O: [Laughter]

S: While the Cons are distracted, Optimus rams the machine causing it to drop Ironhide onto the ground.

O: Megatron's pissed and fires on Optimus and Ironhide.

S: Ratchet is uh, Ratchet again before turning back into ironhide for three sec- three seconds later.

O: Soundwave, his cassettes, Skywarp, and Thundercracker begin attacking them.

S: But at least Spike brought his personal protective equipment today.

O: Yay.

S: Wheeljack is running in an attempt to protect the grenade in what can only be described as a Scooby-Doo-esque sequence.

O: Which is very applicable considering how many Scooby-Doo voice actors were in this show but anyway, I have no idea how the Cons know that Wheeljack's the one they should target right now but they are targeting him.

S: Yeah, two Thundercrackers appear to be chasing Wheeljack before one disappears, presumably Skywarp, uh, you know, teleporting and reappears as Starscream before yelling in Skywarp's voice.

O: So everything went wrong in that scene that possibly could. [Laughter]

S: Well, aside from just completely forgetting to color characters at all.

O: Yes, yes but- but I think because the Seekers are all the same model it's almost worse when they're- they're colored the wrong color.

S: Yeah, the grenade is knocked out of Wheeljack's hand before Spike catches it.

O: Soundwave then makes a beeline for him and Soundwaves like, “Get the human microbe.”

S: Spike then tosses the Holy Hand Grenade to Chip who begins wheeling away like there's absolutely no tomorrow. Soundwave sends out Ravage who knocks Chip over just as he throws the grenade to the Autobots.

O: Ravage, apparently, just leaves him alone after he does this instead of, I don't know, mauling him.

S: He's a considerate cat. Thankfully the grenade does indeed work, pissing off Megatron who orders the Constructicons to combine.

O: And they seem quite happy to have something to do that isn't work on Megatron's pet projects.

S: Finally! Conflict!!! Hit it!!

O: Devastator then tosses the Autobots around.

S: And, surprising the hell out of us, the propulsion via hand thrusters makes a surprise second appearance with Wheeljack.

O: Who gets the great idea of defeating Devastator with the Transfixatron and enlists Cliffjumper to help him because he cannot reach the controls without help because the gun is too tall.

S: Yeah, so they hit Devastator with the gadget of the week and Devastator falls to pieces.

O: Megatron realizes they're outnumbered without Devastator and the Decepticons retreat.

S: Ironhide and Trailbreaker knock over the Transfixatron, which then has a tiny explosion for no good reason.

O: [Laughter]

S: Ratchet groans about how many repairs he's going to have to do now and the episode ends.

O: So join us next time for episode 43: The Golden Lagoon. Skinny dipping robots, skinny dipping robots everywhere. Oh, and also the Decepticons want to be... shiny.

S: And environmental destruction. But let's not forget the shiny.

O: [Laughter] The shiny is what's important here.

S: Okay so we have two fanfic recommendations: one wild card fic from Owls and one from myself. Mine is “Going to the Dogs” by Koi Lungfish. It's in the G1 cartoon continuity, rated K+, it's Gen, there’s no pairings, and the characters are Red Alert, Prowl, Inferno, and Jazz. In summary, “Human tourists cause Prowl and Red Alert some confusion.”

O: I could see that.

S: And so the reason I picked this one is because the race is basically like human outreach- social outreach, more or less. They're- they're trying to be entertainers, so the fan thing about the humans effectively trying to reach out and build more of a social profile with humans by inviting tourists into the Ark and trying to be transparent is- it's a fun concept and I like it.

O: Fair.

S: It's a one shot so therefore complete, so let's go on to Owls' choice!

O: All right, my fanfic suggestion for today is “Casting for a Tape Bros Film.” It is by LittleMissSweetGrass. The continuity is IDW, it is rated G. It is slash, but very light slash, I would say. Our pairings are CosWave and our characters are Soundwave, Marissa, Rumble, Frenzy, Buzzsaw, Laserbeak, and Cosmos. And in summary, “Soundwave gets a phone call from Marissa that he really, really doesn't want to deal with right now.” It is a one shot, it's very short but it's very cute. It's kind of, I think, Soundwave trying to sleep and getting calls that involve Thundercracker.

Both: [Laughter]

O: A sudden attack of the Thundercracker.

S: Nice, and that just about wraps it up for us today. Remember to check us out on Tumblr or Pillowfort as Afterspark-Podcast for any additional information, show notes, or links we may have mentioned. You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter at AftersparkPod (all one word) and various other locations by searching for Afterspark Podcast such as AO3, iTunes, Spotify, and Youtube, just to name a few. And feel free to send us questions on Tumblr, Youtube, or AO3! Till next time, I'm Specs.

O: I’m Owls.

S: Toodles.

[Outro Music]

#transcript #g1 episode 42 #afterspark #afterspark podcast

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the-odd-job · 4 years

Text

Ashes of Icarus chapter 3 - Is He Wrong?

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Prowl, Cliffjumper, Ironhide (brief) Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Additional Tags: Dubcon, Unplanned Pregnancy, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 2355

These chapters are so short it’s a motherfucking pleasure after dealing with harem AU.

( Previous )

If it had been just one time, that’d be its own thing. The timing would’ve been way off, but even so… Everyone admired Sunstreaker until they got even somewhat used to his beauty and didn’t immediately allow it to distract themselves every time they saw him.

If Megatron had been doing just that, it’d be one thing. Ogle him for his looks a bit, then move his attention back to more pressing matters, like winning a war.

But he’d done it repeatedly. The latest battle was only one instance of it.

And even weirder was that they’d fought their little war on Earth for quite some time already. Not long by Cybertronian standards for sure, but still. There had been battle after battle, as small in scale as they were here. Megatron had seen him several times before without paying much attention to him.

So what had changed? Why did he suddenly find the sovereign leader of the Decepticons staring at him in the middle of battles? Did it mean something?

How could it not mean something? It was so… Intentional. They weren’t just fleeting glances to determine the position and intent of an enemy, no.

This was staring. Prolonged and focused.

What did Megatron want?

Good sense said it could be nothing good. Nothing was ever good when it came to the Decepticons, and least of all when it came to Megatron. He was the number one enemy of any Autobot, the one mech who had thrust all of Cybertron into a bloody war that had obliterated the numbers of their entire species…

He’d brought about only bad things, many on this side of the war would say. He was the walking embodiment of wrongdoing of the most severe degree. The blood he’d verifiably spilled could have filled oceans, and that wasn’t even going into the rumors of what he’d done, caused, or ordered.

Sunstreaker should have been… What? Horrified that he was getting Megatron’s attention like that? Displeased at the very least. Fearful?

He wasn’t.

Sideswipe glanced at him where they sat side by side at their corner table. Sunstreaker had barely drunk his energon, too busy sorting out his own head. He’d stared at the cube a lot, though. It was surprising it hadn’t already combusted from being the sole recipient of his attention.

And Sideswipe, he wasn’t rushing or pushing him, just enjoying the rollercoaster of Sunstreaker’s thoughts, amused. That was Sideswipe for you. Well of acceptance and good spirits, as easygoing as they came. Most of the time, anyway.

Even now, as Sunstreaker’s thoughts started down a path no good Autobot’s should have, Sideswipe didn’t say anything. Didn’t judge.

Didn’t particularly care, either. He trusted Sunstreaker to have it, whatever it was. That was what they were trying to define, right then.

Because there wasn’t any negative emotion in him when he thought about Megatron’s stare on him. It was Megatron, for Primus sake. Leader of an entire faction, wannabe leader of all of Cybertron��

An exceptionally powerful individual that could dominate almost anyone he wanted to.

And Sunstreaker had, by all appearances, caught his attention.

He was flattered, that’s what he was. He deserved it, no doubt about it, but… Primus, it was exciting. He hadn’t considered any of it before—hadn’t given Megatron the time of day as anything more than something to annihilate.

Hadn’t thought of Megatron as an individual, but rather as just a concept. Leader of the Decepticons called Megatron, lovely, now kill it.

But Megatron was an individual, and like any individual, he would have his goals and aspirations. A personality that Sunstreaker could build from what he knew, but had never bothered to shape into a living being before.

Megatron was wicked. There was no denying that. But he was also impossibly driven and ambitious. Ruthless. Nothing stopped him when he went after something. He just took, and took, and took. He was a victor, a survivor who had carved his way from the mines, into the Pits, and then onto the centerstage. He was forever written down in history, for better or for worse.

He had come from nothing to be everything.

An unbelievable amount of intelligence, strength of mind, character, spirit, and body, fortitude and will was required to achieve any of that under an oppressive caste system that would have told him he was nothing and to stay down his whole life.

Megatron hadn’t listened.

Look where it had gotten him. Lord Megatron. He had a whole army behind him—Cybertron lay in ruins at his pedes.

And that Megatron had decided Sunstreaker was interesting, in some way.

Yeah, he was pretty sure he should’ve been fearful, concerned, all things considered–

But instead all he could feel was a heady thrill at the thought of what Megatron might want from him—and what he would still do to get it. Some staring across a battlefield could only be the beginning.

Megatron was a Decepticon, though. And Sunstreaker was an Autobot. As an Autobot, the last thing he should have wanted was the personalized attention of the enemy.

Well. He had never pretended to be a very good Autobot. He was too temperamental, too intense, too violent to ever really fit in. Kaon and the Pits were written all over his spark and frame, his mind. He wasn’t made of the softer things the true Autobots were. He wasn’t kind, he wasn’t merciful. He fought and he killed because he liked it, not just because he had to. It was a sport.

No, he was and always had been a bad, bad Autobot. What was some more piled atop that? Bury what he should be even further beneath the corpses of the rules he broke.

Sideswipe was wholly entertained by his complete disinterest in even playing the part of a rule-abiding Autobot, but he was one to talk. Sideswipe wasn’t as extreme, but he still enjoyed violence in ways Optimus Prime vehemently disapproved of. And rules? Yeah, Sideswipe had never given a damn about those, because no one was motivating–

“You drinkin’ that or not?”

Sunstreaker’s helm snapped up at the familiar voice he never wanted to hear. Cliffjumper was staring at him—Sideswipe sat up straighter next to him, already prepared for things to take a sharp turn far South.

That was all he and Cliffjumper seemed to ever manage.

Things weren’t starting that well this time either, because Cliffjumper was already sneering at him before he’d even had the chance to do anything. Not to be outdone, Sunstreaker bared his denta in a threat that would inevitably go unheeded, if everything was about to go at all like it always did.

“What do you want?” Sunstreaker growled, pulling his cube to himself and finally taking a drink from it. Pits, it was going to start to crystallize at this rate.

“You seem awful thoughtful,” Cliffjumper said, coming to stand next to the table. No doubt he would’ve leaned across it or something, if he wasn’t a fragging mini. “Didn’t know you even had enough processing power for that.”

Sideswipe snorted, “You’re one to talk.”

Thank you, Sideswipe, for being helpful for once. Sunstreaker grunted in agreement, and Cliffjumper growled at the both of them this time around—before shifting his attention back to just Sunstreaker. “Don’t think I didn’t see you looking at ol’ Megs last battle,” the minibot continued. Sunstreaker’s glare sharpened. “Finally gonna make good on things and switch the damn sides? Already fantasizing about it, huh?”

Red Alert and Cliffjumper, the two mechs that had a forever obsession about them being traitors in the making just because they’d never quite fit in. At least he didn’t have Red Alert breathing down his neck this time, just Cliffjumper.

Sunstreaker narrowed his optics. “Keep dreaming, short stick. You know I’d off you in a sparkpulse if I switched sides. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

Cliffjumper growled at him. “‘Con talk if I ever heard some! Usual coming from you though, ain’t it? I’m surprised you’re not cozying up with Mirage again, bein’ kindred spirits about this whole thing.”

“Cut the crap, CJ,” Sideswipe said with a roll of his optics. “Just ‘cause you’re always thinking we’re about to jump ship, don’t make it true.”

“Oh yeah? Then what was your brother doing last battle, not fighting the enemy?” Cliffjumper snapped.

For once he had a perfectly good point, but that didn’t mean Sunstreaker appreciated his tone any more than he usually did. “Go frag yourself with a goddamn cactus, Cliffjumper,” Sunstreaker snarled. “I’ll stay a fragging Autobot just to spite you, deal?”

“Like slag you will.” Primus, he just didn’t know when to stop, did he? Sunstreaker growled in warning, the generous mech he was.

Cliffjumper didn’t listen or care. “I say it now, it’s just a matter of time until you’re jumping on Megatron’s spike and begging to fragging join him, the way you were staring at him.”

He’d given enough warnings, hadn’t he? Sunstreaker was off his seat and around the table before Cliffjumper had had the time to do more than take a step back. A yell from the mini and he was sent flying into the not-nearest wall, but this was Cliffjumper. He was back on his pedes as soon as he’d landed, and like the suicidal idiot he was, charging right at Sunstreaker.

That worked just fine for him. Sunstreaker steadied himself and took the impact of the smaller mech bodily ramming into him, and off they were. Cliffjumper may have been a minibot, but he was also a warrior used to fighting those much larger than him.

And Sunstreaker, he was also used to fighting those bigger than him. It put them on more even ground than he would have liked, but he was Sunstreaker.

Of course Cliffjumper eventually ended up pinned on the ground, missing both arms and cursing up a storm. Sunstreaker snarled atop him, bearing his whole weight on the smaller mech and giving him no chances to escape.

Satisfactory.

“SUNSTREAKER!” Ah, he knew that voice too. Sunstreaker let his helm roll in the direction of the doorway lazily, his optics slower to follow to see Ironhide marching towards him, face like a thundercloud. “Prowl’s office. Right now.”

“He started it,” Sunstreaker huffed, but got off his little sparring buddy with just one more kick at Cliffjumper’s side.

Even that was enough to have Ironhide’s engine roaring. Unsurprisingly. He didn’t say anything more though, and Sunstreaker merely stalked past him, just not far enough so to avoid their shoulders colliding. Ironhide growled in offense, but didn’t escalate the situation further.

Sunstreaker wished he would have. Attacking your commanding officer unprovoked was one thing, but given a reason to do so…

Alas, such was not to happen. No one interrupted him on his walk out of the rec room, Sideswipe trailing behind him, snickering to himself. “Oh man, did you see the amount of blood? You tore those lines to shreds, Ratchet’s gonna have to straight up swap ‘em. Poor Cliff. He so should’ve seen that coming.”

Sunstreaker’s agreeing hmph joined Sideswipe’s laughter as they took the route to Prowl’s office. The door opened to them as soon as they pinged for entrance, and a rather severe looking Prowl waited for them on the other side of his desk.

But Prowl always looked severe. The brothers took seats on the chairs in front of Prowl’s desk, practically there just for them.

And then Sideswipe had already lifted his pedes the SIC’s desk, leaning back and crossing his servos behind his helm. “So what’s up today?” he asked with a wide grin that looked far too genuine to belong to a troublemaker of his caliber.

Even if it wasn’t technically Sideswipe in trouble this time.

“You know full well,” Prowl responded, giving the offending pedes a nasty look, but he only glanced at his brother briefly before the cold blue optics had already zeroed in on Sunstreaker.

Sunstreaker raised an optical ridge in challenge.

“Humor me, Sunstreaker. What did Cliffjumper do to deserve that this time?”

“Ran his mouth,” Sideswipe responded at once. “Like he usually does. Someone should teach ‘em to shut the damn thing.

“Oh, right, except Sunny’s been trying to do that since they met, and it hasn’t worked out.”

Excellent summary of the situation, even if Sunstreaker said so himself. He nodded his agreement.

Prowl pinched the bridge of his nasal ridge. “I believe it is pointless to give another speech about how you should be the bigger person.” Yeah, it was. ”Go to the brig and lock yourselves in. One week.”

“Do I get my supplies?” Sunstreaker asked sharply, although they were both halfway out of their seats.

“After relieving Cliffjumper of both of his arms? No.”

“Oh come on–” Sideswipe began to laugh, but Prowl didn’t let him finish. The tactician’s engine revved in warning that had the brothers filing out.

And only once they were in the hallway did Sideswipe properly give into his laughter, stumbling like a drunkard as they headed for the brig. “What did that mean, if you’d only taken off one arm you would’ve gotten your slag?” he cackled. Sunstreaker merely grumbled, significantly less amused that he’d been denied the chance to polish himself for a week. “Oh, you seriously gotta learn to hold back juuuuust enough to still get your concessions. Game the system!”

Well, at least one of them had fun with this. “I think I’d rather deliver the maximum amount of punishment,” Sunstreaker countered as they entered the brig and walked halfway down its corridor before turning into adjacent cells and stepping in. The bars activated on their heels, and the one week timer started to count down.

“Just straight up kill ‘em next time if that’s what you wanna,” Sideswipe suggested.

“And get court martialed?” Sunstreaker asked in return. Bad idea, Sideswipe. A very bad idea.

As one they stepped up the cells’ narrow berths and laid down until there was nothing but a wall between then. “Would shut ‘im up for good, though,” Sideswipe pointed out.

He wasn’t wrong.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadams #sunstreaker #sideswipe #cliffjumper #prowl #ironhide #fic #2020 #ashes of icarus #ashes

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thanksjro · 5 years

Text

More Than Meets the Eye #1- Meeting All Our New Friends

Okay, let’s see what happens when you give one man way too much power over a franchise, and he doesn’t use it for evil.

Before we get into the story, let’s take a look at the cover art! MTMTE, as well as its sister series, Robots in Disguise, started off IDW Phase Two, a brand new run of main comics to replace the by-then completed The Transformers (2009). To celebrate this momentous occasion, each comic’s first issue got FOUR separate covers, which could be combined to create a large, overarching image. MTMTE’s looked like this when all the covers were put together.

The cover art here is by Alex Milne, who is on as the main artist for the series, but he’s not on issue #1- no, for our foray into this comic run, we see the return of Nick Roche.

The last time Roche and Roberts worked together was on Last Stand of the Wreckers, and other than MTMTE #6 and the Revolution one-shot, they won’t be teaming up again within the IDW run.

On a potentially-related-but-more-of-just-a-humorous note, it seems that Roberts is a huge stickler with his scripts, going into what sounds like an honestly horrific amount of detail for each individual panel. The average comic script is either between 20-23 or 28-30 pages long, not counting title and credit pages. Roberts has been cited as sending in comic scripts that approached 50 pages.

Which, if you know anything about the scriptwriting process, is a little… yeah. It’s a very good thing Roberts seems to be able to take criticism.

ANYWAY.

IT’S TIME.

The Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye- Liars, A to D Part 1: How to Say Goodbye and Mean It- holy fucking shit that’s a long title- starts off with the Story So Far, a comic book classic to catch readers up on what’s happened prior to the issue. The very nature of a Story So Far will become plot-relevant much later down the line, but as is, it’s just reminding us what happened during Phase One, in as basic a point as it can.

And then the credits are right underneath.

I can’t even imagine how friggin’ good seeing this printed must have felt.

So, what’s going on in the premiere of the sad, gay, space comic?

Not my phrasing, by the way, but the Wiki’s.

So, the war’s over. What does that mean? Well, a lot of things, honestly, but the first thing we’re given in terms of what changes to expect with everyone’s favorite space robots is in relation to their wardrobes. Yeah, without a war to fight, what’s the point in having relatively identical blocky armor that protects all your insides? It’s time to get skimpy.

Rodimus has switched out his toned calves and discernible ankles for the Uggs that are now positively iconic to his character. Drift’s mass has almost completely gravitated to his thighs, making him the curviest thing this side of the Milky Way. Ultra Magnus didn’t get the memo about not needing to be in uniform anymore, I guess, but somehow I doubt he owns anything casual.

Rodimus, Drift, and Magnus are holding a rally to invite Autobots to come on their party-barge to find the Knights of Cybertron, in an effort to heal the planet, because Rodimus took one look at post-war Cybertron and said “no thanks.” Honestly, I think most would, if these properly colored characters are any indication.

Just the Autobots, by the way. We aren’t ready to be friends with the ‘Cons just yet. Swindle did some major damage on that front.

Prowl and Wheeljack are off to the side discussing this turn of events, and while Wheeljack seems to think that a lot of folks will be boarding the ship and getting the hell out of dodge, Prowl’s expecting nothing to come of it.

So, that was yesterday. What’s going on today?

Inside Kimia, there’s a dead guy. He wasn’t dead when he was brought in, but he is now. Who is he, anyway?

Oh, he’s one of the NAIL protesters, and he died because he was protesting by way of transforming on the steps of Autobot HQ, until his transformation cog burn out. Yep, that can kill you. Ratchet’s the one who performed the autopsy, as per Metalhawk’s request- he only wanted the best of the best on this.

Too bad the best of the best is starting to slump. After a brief scare with Rigor Morphis- the stiffening of the corpse into the body’s preferred mode- Ratchet explains to Bumblebee that his hands have started seizing up, and that’s why he’ll be leaving on the Lost Light with Rodimus. He just can’t do the work anymore.

This news is not well received by Bumblebee, who’s just about had it with everyone up and leaving him all by himself with the mess that is Cybertron.

Phase Two will not be kind to Bumblebee.

Bumblebee accuses Ratchet of having been insnared in Rodimus’ siren song of reclaiming the Golden Age, but c’mon, this is Ratchet! He’s too cynical to fall for that. He’s more interested in finding the Autobots who’ve been lost over the millennia to the war. Ratchet’s already well aware of the true purposes of this little galactic road trip, almost like he’s read the plot outline.

It’s about helping people, and adventure, and being unapologetically gay and sad in equal measures.

Up in the sky, Cyclonus is displeased. He spent six million years in the Dead Universe, under the control of a madman, waiting for the moment he could return to his beloved homeworld, and what does he get? A ball of half-baked primordial cookie-dough, and it’s not even chocolate-chip like he was expecting; it’s fucking oatmeal raisin.

Mmm, that is some tasty panel-breaking right there.

Of course, the I/D chip might not have worked anyway, seeing as Cyclonus got a little bit of a boost when Vector Sigma ejected everyone during the Matrix incident. It’s doing some weird stuff to his body, on top of whatever nonsense existing inside the Dead Universe does to a person.

Cyclonus is about to head over to the Lost Light- apparently he and Rodimus made a little deal off-panel- when he detects a familiar life sign and decides to see what that’s all about.

Over in Prowl’s office, things are tense. He and Chromedome can’t even look at each other, as Chromedome reveals that both he and Rewind are jumping on the Lost Light. Prowl doesn’t like this, not one bit. He needs Chromedome, needs his skills, his expertise. He tries to appeal to Rewind, knowing who wears the pants in this relationship.

Or, well, he tries.

Prowl, they’ve been married for over 250,000 years.

In all seriousness, this is slightly before the first tentative steps Roberts took towards making the franchise as gay as he possibly could, at least when going by the story’s chronology. The thing about professional comic script writing is that plotting/planning goes for a ways beyond the current script one’s working on, so that everyone knows where everyone else is. Considering the somewhat congruent nature between MTMTE and RiD, planning ahead was especially important.

Chromedome and Rewind were originally (like, first draft originally) meant to be best friends. This was to fill a void in the department of close relationships Roberts felt within the Transformers franchise. Then Roberts saw how handsy he’d been writing them during plotting and realized he’d made something a little different happen. Which still sort of went with what he was going for, just in a slightly different fashion. Chromedome and Rewind are a rare case of a writer NOT leaning into the “they’re just bros, bro” mentality and just letting the characters be together as romantic partners.

Also keep in mind that it would be another three fucking years before the United States would legalize same-sex marriage, which is where the IDW offices are located. You gotta ease that sort of change in, that way nobody realizes what you’re doing until it’s already been done, then you can go hog-wild. We won’t be hitting critical mass on the homonormative civilization that is IDW1 Cybertron for a solid year or so.

So this bit of dialogue is just the start of the setup, and the “best friend” line is either a leftover from earlier versions of the script, or Prowl really just is that big of an asshole.

Rewind is, of course, recording everything taking place on his handy-dandy little head-mounted camera, because history is his business, and he’s not going to stop recording for the likes of Prowl.

Rewind doesn’t like Prowl very much.

It would seem that the feeling is mutual.

Chromedome suddenly remembers that trying to reason with Prowl is like talking to a brick wall, and the two of them leave. Prowl responds to this slight by yelling in the hallway and then flipping a table.

I sure hope y’all like running gags.

Of course, Prowl wouldn’t be Prowl without having a few contingency plans in place for when things don’t go his way, and he makes a call to his inside guys to “load the cargo.”

That’s not ominous in the slightest.

Six million years prior to all this nonsense, a tiny little dude fell in a hole and broke his legs trying to get to work.

This is Tailgate, and he’s seen better days. Not many, mind you, but at least a couple. He was making his way to the launch of the original Ark, when he decided to take a shortcut that would change the course of his life forever. Hence the whole “stuck in a hole” thing. Still, he’s got to get out of here, because without him, the entire expedition is doomed!

For being an idiot, Tailgate’s pretty smart- he figures that if he sets off his energon rations, it’ll blast up through the roof of the cavern he’s in and someone will be able to find him. Good thing energon’s so incredibly volatile.

Speaking of volatile, let’s jump back to the present and check on our buddy Whirl.

It looks like Whirl also got a makeover between series, because he’s now sporting a much sleeker, angular frame, complete with long, tapered head.

Whirl’s currently busy thanking his new friends for spending so much time with him. It really meant a lot to him, their patience. Not many folks have been patient with him before.

Of course, it probably helps that all these guys are dead as hell.

It’s time for another Roberts’ staple- the suicide attempt. We won’t be using the robot-equivalent to Multiple Sclerosis though. This go around, we’ll be using a classic: self immolation!

Title drop! Bet you weren’t expecting it to have such a dark connotation, huh?

Cyclonus interrupts Whirl’s monologue and suicide attempt. He thought he’d seen his best buddy, Scourge, on his tracker, and his immediate response is to lurk in the shadows looking like a night demon wearing a party hat.

Fun fact: a group of Sweeps is called a Spring Cleaning.

Scourge isn’t here, and he won’t ever be. Scourge most likely died off-panel, never to be seen again, assumedly because nobody wanted to write for him. I think it’s the nails, puts people off.

Whirl doesn’t take kindly to the intrusion, and responds the only way he knows how.

It’s always embarrassing when your self-immolation gets interrupted, but maybe try taking a first deep breaths before committing to more war crimes, Whirlybird.

While these two morons fill the post-Bay movie explosion quota, Red Alert’s hard at work screening the passengers on the Lost Light. Currently, he’s checking Brainstorm, who’s making it as difficult as possible, both legally and emotionally. Red Alert waves him on with a grumble, without even getting a peek at what’s inside his mysterious briefcase.

Up next is Swerve.

His legs are so jacked, it makes me a little uncomfortable. Glad to see Swerve’s body reformat went swimmingly- seems he went for the classic “tires in the shoulders and ankles” model.

Oh hey, it’s Rung! Hi Rung!

This series will not be kind to Rung.

While Cyclonus and Whirl terrorize the folks just trying to get on board the dang ship, Rodimus is feeling rather pleased with himself with the turnout. Drift strokes his ego a bit, because they support each other, but things are still weird because Drift doesn’t know who he is as a person anymore, and Rodimus has a guilty conscience mixed with being the Matrix’s golden child, which really fucks with a guy’s head.

Ultra Magnus goes through the list of the folks joining their quest, and starts running through all their demerits and crimes like it’s his job, because it is. We get a little peek into Magnus’ world view and then it’s back to the Whirl and Cyclonus show.

Also, Drift doens’t have a nose right now. He’ll get it back in time for the next issue, don’t worry.

Over with the flyboys, Cyclonus has decided to land and attempt to reason with Whirl. Not that he couldn’t totally kill Whirl if he wanted to.

He just doesn’t want to.

No, Cyclonus is far more concerned with his meeting with Rodimus, the one that he’s already friggin’ late for thanks to the detour he took checking that life signature. Whirl doesn’t care, far more worried about the fact that Cyclonus saw him talking to desecrated corpses and, far more importantly, vulnerable.

Look at this jackass’ ensemble- demon helmet, a crop top, a skirt and bellbottom pants. What an icon. He and Eugenesis Wheeljack should trade fashion tips.

Whirl still isn’t done with him, even after scraping him across the side of a mountain. Feeling especially artsy, he scoops Cyclonus up and jumps into the air, since he apparently has a hundred-foot vertical leap.

Back in the past, things aren’t going so well for Tailgate.

More cool panel stuff going on here- every time the panels have had rounded corners, it’s been when the scene takes place in the past. Now that the last panel has proper right angles to it, Tailgate’s in the present with everyone else. That middle panel probably covers a couple million years, at least. Poor guy.

Up on the surface, Ratchet’s met up with Chromedome and Rewind, and they’re all walking over to the launch site, Chromedome bitching all the while about how they’ve got to use their legs since Rewind’s alt-mode isn’t a vehicle, but a USB.

Chromedome seems to have forgotten that his tiny husband is small enough to probably just ride on top of his alt-mode, if not directly inside, most likely due to his larger-than-life personality.

Whirl and Cyclonus fall out of the sky before Chromedome can say something that’ll get his ass divorced. Cyclonus gets knocked out cold, having taken the brunt of the impact. Unfortunate, seeing as Whirl’s taking the time to make up lies about him.

You thought I was kidding when I said the armor was skimpy, but here we are, with a shot of Whirl’s battle thong.

Ratchet, who knows Whirl, because he knows everybody, tries to talk him out of straight up murdering Cyclonus. Whirl doesn’t like it when people try to talk him down, and is about to turn on the good doctor, when Tailgate enters the scene, by way of explosion.

Whirl doesn’t handle explosions terribly well. Probably why he was going to use one to kill himself.

With Whirl knocked out, Ratchet and the power couple pull Tailgate out of his hole, where he manages to ask about the launch before freaking the fuck out and fainting at the sight of a rather dead-looking Whirl. To be fair, I can’t think of a whole lot of folks who’d survive getting their tits blown off with enough force to clear a tunnel in solid rock.

You said it, Rewind.

Ratchet grabs Tailgate and Whirl and brings them onboard the ship, seeing as Tailgate seems to want to be there, and Whirl’s too dangerous to be out of sight. They just kinda leave Cyclonus on the ground. I doubt the two guys who were on Kimia last month really want to deal with him.

Rewind breaks off from the group to see his dealer. This dealer isn’t selling the good kush though. He’s got something far more incriminating to offer.

But we don’t get to find out what the fuck Rewind just bought from Swindle for a few more issues. Rest assured, it’s nothing good.

On the bridge, Rodimus is in his captain’s chair, ready to captain it up. The Lost Light raises into the air, as Bumblebee and Prowl watch on, about to exit the atmosphere and begin a adventure filled with hijinks and mild peril.

And that’s a series wrap on everyone! I hope you enjoyed this wonderful one-shot written by James Roberts.

What do you mean there’s 56 more issues?

Alright, let’s see where this goes.

Back on the bridge, there’s alarms and sirens out the wazoo, as things have pretty much immediately gone to shit. The quantum engine the Lost Light’s outfitted with apparently went off prematurely, rocketing them into a completely random quadrant of space.

Also, there’s a hole in the ship, and vacuum physics are doing their thing.

This series will not be kind to Rodimus.

The Lost Light touches down on the planet they popped back into existence over to start looking for all the guys who got sucked out of the ship. They don’t have to look long, seeing as they’re all burning up in the atmosphere.

Welcome to the Lost Light. It’s a friggin’ mess.

Back on Cybertron, the aftermath of the explosion is seen, as Bumblebee and Prowl listen to a message that seems to imply a lot more heartache in the future.

Prowl, you could at least pretend to give a shit.

That’s the end of the story, but not the end of the issue. In the back of the book, we get a welcome letter from James Roberts himself, thanking the reader for taking the time to read the beginning of MTMTE, and holy shit does he really try to sell it to you. This is a guy who wants you to be excited about the story that’s coming your way, because he’s excited about it. He’s a big dork who loves Transformers, and he gets to write about them for the next six years! That’s awesome.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #liars A-to-D #issue 1 #incoming analysis #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing

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anubislover · 4 years

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Welcome to the Heart Pirates, Nami-ya chapter 16: Salvage

As much as Nami would have loved to set out right away to get the antivenom, she knew there was no choice but to wait at least two hours until the tide was low enough to safely explore the shipwreck. From what she could observe through the binoculars, it was securely lodged into the rocks and reef that surrounded the island, but much of it was only really accessible when the tide was out.

So, with no other choice but to play the waiting game, she found herself perusing a zoology book to pass the time.

“Huh. Apparently, snow leopards can’t roar—however, their tails are super mobile and are often used to send ‘messages’ during social encounters. They’re ambush attackers who generally pounce down on their prey from above, which is easy since they’re excellent climbers and can jump up to seven times their body length. They’re also known as the ‘Ghosts of the Mountains’ in some places because they’re so shy and solitary,” she prattled, skimming over the description before looking up at Law, who huffed in annoyance as his tail irritably flicked back and forth.

Clearly, the transformed captain was antsy. He’d been told in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to join his companions on their salvaging mission. Naturally, he’d thrown a fit, hissing and growling and making all sorts of angry sounds—including what she now assumed was his failed attempt to roar—but the pair of navigators stood firm. It was only when Nami pointed out that, Devil Fruit powers or not, he didn’t know how to swim in his current form which made him a potential liability, that he reluctantly acquiesced.

Of course, since he couldn’t help and would be forced to stay on the ship alone, he needed something to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t pace around the infirmary, speeding up the poison’s journey through his bloodstream. Unfortunately, he was having a harder time distracting himself than Nami, as his furry paws made it impossible enjoy a book past a couple pages. Reading aloud to him was the only real option and keeping him informed of his current form’s capabilities at least seemed useful. However, it appeared that there wasn’t a lot of information on snow leopards due to their reclusive nature.

As if human Law isn’t mysterious enough, she thought, skipping to another section. “Ok, what do you want to hear about next; pandas or binturongs? Or should we switch to birds?” she asked, indicating another book by Dr. Monroe. Bepo had been nice enough to lug over the man’s entire encyclopedia series, which ranged from reptiles to mammals to birds from all four Blues.

Yellow eyes rolled heavenwards as Law grumbled under his breath. Bepo wasn’t around at the moment to translate, but Nami could pretty easily deduce that he was displeased with both options.

“Well, sorry Law, but I already told you that I’m not reading any of your creepy-ass medical texts! If you don’t want me to read to you, we’ll find you a ball of yarn or something,” she snapped, slamming the book closed.

Spotted ears flattened back as he gave a brief flash of his fangs before calming down, looking away with a huff. Yet despite his haughty expression, she could see the tension in his shoulders and the way his claws flexed in and out.

He was trying to hide it, but Nami could tell Law was quietly freaking out.

She sighed as she reached out to stroke his brow soothingly. “Sorry. Guess we’re both a bit tense, huh?”

He grunted in affirmation but didn’t pull away, instead leaning into her touch.

Deciding that petting him would be a much better distraction than reading for both of them, she began scratching behind his ears with gusto as she said, “Look, I get that this must suck for you, especially considering how used to being in control you are. I’m sure I wouldn’t be much happier if I were turned into a cat. But I promise Bepo and I will be fine. It’s just a quick salvage mission; we get the antivenom, plus the supplies that guy needs, and then head straight back to the Tang. Easy-peasy. You’ll be back on your feet by dawn, and human again by breakfast.”

He gave her a disbelieving side-eye before arching his neck back, silently indicating that she should direct her attentions there.

Nami rolled her eyes but followed his instruction, fingers firmly scratching under his chin. After all, when else would she get the chance to cuddle a snow leopard like a friendly housecat? That, and he seemed less inclined to argue with her when he was getting so much physical attention. “You must know you’ve got a capable crew, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have sailed this far with them. Sure, there are plenty of things that only you can do, but delegation of duties is an essential leadership skill. When this is all over, I want to you to start trusting your nakama more, got it?” she scolded, even as she carded her fingers along his broad chest, her hands practically disappearing into the luxuriously thick fur.

She had to admit, she did kind of like him like this. He was gloriously fluffy, she could ignore his snide comments and innuendos, and petting him was oddly enjoyable. Not that she wanted Law to stay like this forever, as she would miss their verbal sparring and occasional intelligent conversations, but she found herself wondering if, just maybe, when he turned back, he could…keep the ears and tail? He’d be so cute with them!

As she scratched his chin, a smug smirk curled her lips. “You know, maybe we should keep you like this for a little while longer. It’ll teach you to rely on your crew a bit more, and I gotta say, I wouldn’t mind having my own pet snow leopard,” she teased.

Law’s eyes narrowed at the statement before a wide smirk of his own spread across his muzzle, a hungry glint shining in the gold irises. It was an expression Nami could only describe as “deviously seductive” and she was certain that if he were in his human form, she’d be pinned to the nearest flat surface.

He gave a low, almost purring growl, and she immediately inferred it to mean “enjoy it while you can, because the second I’m me again, you are in so much trouble.” The message was further punctuated by the way he leaned in and inhaled against her neck, his whiskers tickling her chin.

Do not be aroused by a cat. Do not be aroused by a cat, Nami chanted in her head, blushing as her imagination was filled with Law in his human form, yet sporting those ears and tail she’d found so cute. Only, it wasn’t quite so adorable when paired with a feral smile and graceful, prowling movements as he caged her against a wall.

Realizing exactly where her thoughts were straying, she immediately sought to distract both Law and herself by reaching up to scratch behind his ears, earning her a series of very happy sounds from the big cat. It was hard to be seductive when you were getting petted like a big, fluffy kitty, after all.

Leaning hard into her touch, he let out a few deep meows, eyes shutting tightly in pleasure as she hit a particularly good spot.

“Umm, he just said ‘If the trade fails, your job for the rest of the year is doing this. Constantly’,” Bepo explained as he poked his head into the room. He carefully made his way to the bed, his hands occupied by a large bowl of water and a massive tray of raw meat while Kikoku was tucked awkwardly under his arm.

It hadn’t dawned on any of them until Law’s stomach had started growling that he hadn’t eaten anything since the pocky game, so the bear had offered to get him some food from the galley. Despite his captain’s current form, Nami had expected his order to be along the lines of onigiri, though she could now see that had been a bit optimistic.

“Are you sure this is what you’re hungry for, Law?” Bepo asked, looking down at the meat dubiously. “It’d really be no trouble to cook it up for you.”

Law’s eyes lit up at the sight of the bloody steaks and gave a few yowls in reply, pulling away from Nami’s hands to eagerly sit up.

The Mink blanched at his response. “Ew, Law! That’d technically be cannibalism!”

“What would?” Nami asked, horrified.

“Eating the boar that attacked us, since it used to be a human like him.” Bepo shuddered before handing him the food. “Here. They’re a little cold, but they were the only non-frozen meat I could find.”

The leopard didn’t seem to mind, literally tearing into one of the raw steaks with a barely-contained hunger. His table manners weren’t exactly great as a human, but Nami found watching him devour his dinner like this was far worse.

Any half-hearted plans of keeping him as a leopard were immediately scrapped. If this is what feeding time would look like, it was not worth it.

Averting her eyes for the sake of not emptying her own stomach, she turned her focus to Bepo, who had leaned Kikoku against the cot. “Why’d you get that? It’s not like he can use it,” she asked, wiggling her fingers meaningfully.

“He knows that, but I think it makes him feel better having it around,” he whispered in her ear.

“Like a security blanket?”

“Yeah.”

She stifled a giggle with her hand. “Got it. How’s the tide looking?”

“Almost fully out. I think it’s about time to go.”

“Sounds good. Think Law will be ok without us for a few hours?”

They turned to find Law on his back, batting at Kikoku’s dangling tassels. Feeling their amused gazes on him, he glared and let out a growl.

“Law says, ‘If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you’.”

This time, Nami didn’t bother to hide her laughter.

XXX

The trip over to the wreck had been fairly smooth—the weather was calm, the nearly-full moon provided plenty of light to see by, and their small motorboat managed to navigate the sharp rocks that poked out of the water. They’d grabbed a few empty backpacks to carry their loot, along with her lock picks and a lantern to light the way inside. Nami hoped they wouldn’t need much more than that; their boat was designed for speed and maneuverability, not weight, so they couldn’t afford to bring more than necessary.

As they pulled up alongside the ship, she was amazed at how well-preserved it was. Sure, it was definitely never going to sail again, but it was still in one piece; far better off than the ship that had fallen from Skypia that she’d made the boys salvage back what felt like a lifetime ago. Barnacles encased nearly every inch of the hull, and there were noticeable holes in the side that looked like damage from canon fire. If she had to guess, the pirates had been escaping a battle and gotten caught up in a storm, leading them to be shipwrecked on the cove. Her theory of a storm was confirmed when she got a good look at the mast—it was charred and splintered, clearly damaged by a lightning strike, and the sails were burned to black tatters.

From what she could tell, there were three levels, much like the Thousand Sunny. Given her experience infiltrating and robbing pirate ships in the past, she figured they’d find the galley, sick bay, and crew’s living quarters on the main deck level. The captain’s quarters and treasure room would take up most of the top level. Below deck would be additional living quarters, storage space, and brig.

She didn’t have high hopes for the lower level—it spent the most time underwater compared to the others, so it’d likely have little to offer. Still, her time as a thief had taught her not to completely rule out a secret treasure room or safe hidden deep in the bowls of the ship, as some of the smarter crews had learned not to keep the best stuff in the obvious places.

“Ok, here’s the plan,” she said to Bepo as they climbed up onto the deck. The wood was slippery with kelp and algae, and she could already see several large holes where the wood had rotted through. “We need to locate the antivenom first—the sick bay’s our best bet. Next, we’ll get the stuff we need for the trade. Depending on the shape the ship is in, though, you might need to hang back if the floors are too rotted.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

She carefully stepped over a broken railing—the whole ship listed slightly to the left, so keeping their balance was tricky. “We need to be careful; Law’s already all pissy because he couldn’t come with us. If we come back with so much as a scratch, he’s going to bitch about how he should have been there. This is your chance to prove to him that he can trust other people and that he doesn’t need to be such a control freak.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t want to rely on him so much,” Bepo said sadly as he reached out a paw for her to take, helping her climb over some debris, “but if we don’t let him get his way, he does it behind our backs, and sometimes he gets hurt because of it. At least when we let him be in charge, he’ll let us go along as backup.”

“Well, not this time,” she reaffirmed, eyes narrowed seriously. “You need to stand up for yourself more, just like you did back in the infirmary. Doing that probably saved his life!”

“I know,” he replied as they reached the entrance to the main deck. “It’s just…Shachi, Penguin and I have followed him since we were kids. The three of us were lost in a big world and desperate for a leader. And sure, we’re all grown up now, but he’s still the one with the plans and ambitions and power…”

“Yeah, he’s powerful,” she agreed, gingerly testing out the floor. When it proved solid enough, she motioned for Bepo to follow her inside. She knew they had to step lightly, though—even if the rooms only got halfway submerged at high tide, it was still enough to cause significant structural damage. “That doesn’t mean he’s all-powerful. You guys have your strengths, too. He can’t navigate, right?”

“Well, no…”

“Can he shoot a rifle like Shachi?”

“He can fire a gun, but he’s no sharpshooter.”

“Can he fix the engine like Ikkaku?”

“Absolutely not! Law specifically hired her because none of us could figure out the engine!”

“See? Everyone’s got their strengths and weaknesses. Yes, there are certain things only Law can do, but he can’t do it all. He’s already pulling double-duty as the captain and doctor; you guys need to step in when he starts making too much work for himself.”

“We stepped in on the beach,” he defended as he pointed out a room at the end of the hall with a little red cross over it.

Taking the hint, Nami carefully made her way towards it, indicting to him the spots that obviously couldn’t take the polar bear’s weight. “It shouldn’t have taken that long, though! He spent a week not sleeping, running himself into the ground—”

“Law only listens to us when things are really bad!” Bepo shouted, stamping his foot in frustration. Unfortunately, the force combined with the unstable wood sent his leg crashing through the floor.

“Whoa!” Nami cried, grabbing his arm to stabilize him while he pulled the limb out. Though that particular spot wasn’t rotted, it had been flanked by splintered sections that hadn’t offered much support. “Ok, you know what? Maybe this isn’t the best time to talk about this,” she said as nervous sweat dripped down her neck. She was so used to Bepo being meek and apologetic, she’d forgotten that he was a super-strong Mink. Him losing his temper was dangerous, especially here.

He nodded quickly, paws trembling the slightest bit. “Agreed,” he whimpered, his round ears drooping with shame. “I’m sorry.”

She immediately felt guilty. It was one thing to give a guy a much-needed lecture, but she’d been so far up on her high horse she hadn’t considered that they had significantly more important things to focus on. “It’s fine. I did say you needed more backbone, didn’t I?” Steadying herself, she helped him to his feet. “Let’s just hold off on the subject until we’re back on the Tang.”

“Ok,” he whimpered, head still hanging in contrition.

Nami made a mental note to keep an eye on the poor guy. He’d clearly been taking this whole fiasco harder than she’d thought. His captain was powerless and poisoned, his crew was missing, they had to trudge around a dangerous, rotting ship to appease a crazy old man, and Nami was basically telling him that it was his fault for not better controlling his stubborn captain.

Once this was over, she’d make it up to him. Maybe get him another giant salmon or something on the next island. Or more ear scratches. He’d seemed to like those, and it didn’t cost her money.

That in mind, she cautiously opened the door to the sick bay, wincing at the moaning creak the rusty hinges gave out. The room itself was fairly standard for a pirate ship—an examination table, sick bed, desk, skeleton display (which Nami hoped was fake and for reference purposes, and not some poor soul who’d been picked clean by the fishes), small cages for lab animals, and what were probably the sodden remains of the physician’s texts and notes. However, the state of the place would give Chopper a conniption fit; seaweed and algae clung to nearly every surface, the padding on the chair and cot had been ripped apart, glass from broken bottles was all over the floor, and the place reeked of decomposing wood and salt.

Of course, none of that mattered to Nami as her attention was quickly drawn to the large safe in the back of the room. It was made of stainless steel, so while barnacles and rockweed had attached themselves to the surface, there was blessedly minimal rust.

“Think that’s where we’ll find our antivenom?” she asked rhetorically, already examining the lock to see if it needed to be picked. It was a fairly simple one—it needed a key as opposed to a combination—and Nami immediately pulled out her lockpicks, carefully jimmying the tumblers into place.

The tiny click was easily heard by both navigators, who’d unconsciously held the breaths. They both exhaled a soft “whoa” as the door swung open, revealing stacks of trays filled with carefully labeled vials. Many of them were the antivenom they sought, but there were also shelves full of the venom itself; mostly coral snake, though there were notably a few others like king cobra, black mamba, and pit viper.

“That’s a lot of snake venom,” Nami said with a shudder, imagining the number of snakes it must have taken to get that much stock. And they’d kept them on the ship? That sounded like a recipe for disaster.

“The old man did say those pirates dealt in it.” Bepo peered at the assortment of antivenom before selecting a vial. “Here’s the coral snake. Should we take any of the others?”

“Hell, take it all. It’s not doing any good here, and I’m sure after this fiasco Law would want to have extra antivenom on hand just in case. Anything he doesn’t want, we can sell.”

“Law will like that. Antivenom goes for big money at hospitals, since it’s not always easy to get access to. But the venom itself we should dump—I don’t like the idea of anyone getting a hold of this much poison.”

Nami couldn’t agree more. There was only one reason she could think of for why anyone would want snake venom in large quantities—murder. And whether the Navy, pirates, or Revolutionaries were the buyers made no difference.

As Bepo carefully loaded up the backpack with the antivenom, she fished out the deadly vials and began flinging them out the broken window. She could hear some crash against the rocks while others plopped into the sea, hopefully lost forever. So long, and good riddance, she thought, taking a bit of pleasure in imagining she was flinging away the snake that had bitten Law. She wondered if coral snakes could swim, or if the snake had drowned when she’d blasted it away into the water. She hoped it was the latter.

When she was done, Nami assessed the rest of the room. “Should we take anything else?” There were syringes, a microscope, stethoscopes, scalpels, and several other assorted medical apparatuses, though none of it was in particularly great shape.

Glancing at the waterlogged infirmary, Bepo wrinkled his nose in disdain. “No way. This equipment’s nothing compared to the Tang’s, and I doubt the sanitation of most of it after months exposed to the elements. It’s not even worth selling.”

Mouth twisting in disgust as she found herself agreeing with his assessment, Nami eyed the knapsack on his back. He’d loaded the trays that kept the vials upright, but they didn’t completely protect them when he moved. “Are those going to be safe like that?”

“I’ve stacked them as best I could, but we should try to find cloth to wrap them in for extra protection so they’re not just banging against each other,” he replied, shifting nervously. Even with that small motion, Nami could swear she heard a gentle clink of glass hitting glass.

It was tempting to suggest they put the bag in the motorboat for safekeeping, but it was too risky; an errant wave could capsize the boat and dump their precious cargo into the ocean, and it all would have been for nothing. They’d just have to be careful.

“Maybe we can find some rags or something to use as padding,” Nami suggested, leading them back into the hallway. Until then, they’d absolutely have to watch their step; another crash through the floor like earlier, and they risked a backpack full of unusable liquid and broken test tubes.

Their next stop was the galley, and immediately they knew they’d find little of use there. The cooking utensils were rusted through, as were the pots and pans, and there was nothing that could convince them that opening the refrigerator would result in anything less than a biohazard. Nami braved a trip to the pantry; there was some tinned food that looked to still be in decent condition, though she decided to pass on the can opener—it was guaranteed to give someone tetanus.

I sure hope we have better luck with the rest of the ship, she thought gloomily as they decided to take a chance on the upper deck, otherwise we won’t have much to trade for the crew.

“Should we go upstairs to the captain’s quarters, or the other side of the ship for the crew’s?” Bepo asked, pointing at the ceiling.

After dropping the canned goods into her own sack, Nami considered the question. Given its position high above the ocean and rocks, it likely had sustained the least amount of damage, making it the safest to check out. It also likely had the most usable goods, meaning that if they could find what they needed there, they wouldn’t have to bother with the other rooms.

“Captain’s room. If anyone on this ship owned a pair of good, hearty boots, it’d be them.”

The stairs to the top deck creaked and groaned with every step, but thankfully they held together well enough, even under Bepo’s weight.

The top deck held only one door, which was probably ornate before the wreck—now, the red and gold paint was chipped and faded while the etched handle was rusted over. Nami carefully tested the knob, only to find it jammed. “Bepo, would you be a dear and get the door?” she asked sweetly, moving to the side.

The bear stepped forward, taking a minute to futilely try to turn the knob himself. Nami sighed and stopped him before miming what she meant for him to do.

“Oh. Sorry,” he replied before kicking in the door, the force of the blow sending it clear across the room.

“Guess you’re not used to breaking and entering, huh?” she joked. A thought came to her. “By the way, how’d you get into Law’s room earlier? You know, to get Kikoku? It was locked when I checked.”

Bepo’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Why were you trying to get into his room?”

She froze. Shit. She needed a good explanation, or else he’d surely say something to Law, and any hope she’d have of getting in there would be ruined. “Oh! Uh, I wanted to see if he’d returned to the sub!” she lied, putting on an innocent smile. “You know, it would have been silly for us to search the island for him when he’d been in his room the whole time!”

He scratched his head guiltily. “Oh. That makes sense. Sorry I didn’t think of that.” Gingerly stepping into the room to ensure the floor was stable, he explained, “I have a key to his room for emergencies. I mean, he rarely has to worry about locking himself out, what with his powers and all, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

It felt wrong to take advantage of Bepo’s trust and innocence, but Nami knew this was her chance to get into Law’s room. “Do you carry it on you most of the time, or do you keep it in your room for safekeeping?”

“Oh, I usually leave it in my top desk drawer so it doesn’t get lost.”

“See? You’re responsible! Further proof that Law’s stupid for not trusting you more,” she chirped, lightly hopping over a hole in the floor. Standing in the center of the captain’s quarters, she took in what had probably been fairly luxurious accommodations before the wreck.

While the elements hadn’t too severely affected the room since it managed to stay above water, two months of rain, wind, and waves coming through the broken windows had clearly taken its toll. The velvet curtains were tattered and coated with a layer of salt and seaweed. There was a leather chair that had seen better days, a fancy wardrobe sporting clear water damage, and the decorative cutlass displayed over the bed looked like it could dissolve if touched, it was so rusted and tarnished. The cherrywood desk had become home to crabs and starfish, and there was a massive bird’s nest in the center of the king-sized bed. Oddly, though, there wasn’t much by way of bird crap over the floor. Yet something clearly lived there, as it looked like some kind of massive bird had decided to rip apart the mounted snow leopard head with its beak and talons.

It was the polar opposite of any room Luffy would ever want, even looking past the obvious deterioration. Her captain had always preferred sleeping with his crew, roughing it in a hammock or bunk bed. He’d never even mentioned a desire for his own cabin, despite a captain having every right to one. Heck, even back in the days of the Going Merry, the second room had been given to Nami and treated as the women’s quarters, despite them at the time not knowing if there would even be any other girls.

I wonder why? Nami thought to herself. Did he just not see any reason for having a room to himself, or did he genuinely dislike sleeping alone? Maybe he and Ace always shared a room, so he slept better with company?

It drove home just how little she really knew about Luffy’s past. When they were reunited, she’d have to sit him down and get his whole life story; why Shanks had given him his hat, whether Garp and the Revolutionary Dragon were his only living relatives, tales about growing up with Ace…

Shaking herself out of questions about the past and plans for the future, she focused on the present. “Check the wardrobe for the boots and blankets—I’ll see if the desk drawers are watertight enough to keep any books from getting destroyed.”

Bepo nodded, shuffling over to the far side of the room while Nami set to work picking the locks of the desk drawers. Most contained sodden papers, leaking pens, a few animal claws on a string, and a waterlogged pocket watch, but nothing of real value or use.

However, inside the top left drawer was a metal box. Nami’s eyes lit up with belli signs as she imagined this could be where the captain had stashed his spare cash or prized pieces of treasure. Nimbly picking the padlock, she was disappointed to find just a few belli notes and a leather-bound journal. She stuffed the money in her bra for safekeeping and cracked open the log, hoping that it would at least tell her where the crew might have kept their treasure.

Captain’s Log: February 22nd Just made lucrative a deal with a stinking-rick noblewoman who wants a whole coat made of snow leopard fur, plus a pet baby snow leopard she can show off, but it’s not exactly easy to find those damn cats, especially outside the North Blue. Luckily, there’s a winter island not far from here with some conservationists studying them; maybe if we make nice, they’ll lead us to a few.

Captain’s Log: April 4th We may have found our ultimate meal ticket. Why search the Grand Line for exotic animals when you have a Devil Fruit user who can MAKE them? One of the conservationists can actually turn people into animals—he’s been using it to transform his fellow scientists so they can get close to the animals they’re studying. He’s an older man. Weak. Idealistic. Shouldn’t be hard to break him in.

Captain’s Log: April 10th Doc says he can’t really choose what to turn people into, but I think it’s bullshit. Yesterday, he turned the cabin boy into a calf, probably so he’ll think he’s useless. Joke’s on him, though—that veal was damn tasty. Good to know we’ll always have a supply of meat on a long voyage. Hell, maybe we could open a butcher shop on the side.

Captain’s Log: April 18th You know, I used to just put a bullet in an animal’s brain to kill it before skinning, but that always was such a bitch to clean up, plus it risked damaging the rest of the coat. But then Akio came up with a great idea—kill them with snake venom! It’s a lot less messy, depending on what you use, and I can save my bullets.

On top of that, Doc’s still trying to rebel by turning prisoners into useless animals like mice and hamsters. Except now we’ve got ourselves some excellent lab rats for making antivenom. Lemons and lemonade, right?

Captain’s Log: June 12th Doc’s “training” is coming along nicely. Sure, he still begs and pleads for us not to make him use his powers, but it doesn’t take much for him to give up anymore, and he’s finally giving us the animals we want. It helps that Haru was able to rig up one of the pullies to his cage so if he doesn’t comply, he gets a nice long dunk in the ocean to cool his head. Devil Fruit, am I right? I used to want one myself, but I’m starting to think it’s not worth the price.

Captain’s Log: June 18th Had to retrain Doc today. Thought he could get one over on me by turning a prisoner into a cobra. Too bad for him I was quick enough to shield my arm with Armament Haki. I think a long seawater bath will set him straight. Maybe break his leg, too, as a long-term reminder.

Doc really should be more grateful; it’s a win-win situation. We’re not killing or selling wild animals anymore, so his conservation work continues. And with all the fur, meat, and product we get out of it, we’re quickly getting filthy rich!

Captain’s Log: August 3rd Today was a huge score! We came across a lifeboat full of refugees. They were just floating there, helpless, packed in like sardines. Apparently, they’d been out there for days after their ship was attacked by a Sea King. We brought them aboard and promised we’d take them to the next island and provide food and shelter. They were so fucking grateful to be rescued they didn’t even care that we were pirates. Of course, their tunes changed once we started shoving them in cages!

We set Doc to work right away. The weakling whimpered a bit, especially when it came to the kids, but hey, it’s not like we’re breaking our promise; they’ll get to the next island. Maybe not in one piece, and definitely not human, but hey, them’s the breaks, right? It’s not like anyone will miss them, anyway.

Stomach churning with disgust, Nami couldn’t bring herself to do more than skim the later entries. Going by the dates, the captain had been making a massive profit off of selling exotic animal pelts, meat, venom, and pets for nearly two years. And he’d been forcing a man who’d devoted himself to protecting animals to do it.

No wonder the old man hated pirates. Had instinctively turned the Hearts into animals; he’d probably been scared out of his mind that they’d be just like the rest, ready to abuse and exploit him again. She could certainly relate.

“Nami?” Bepo’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Are you ok? You’re whiter than I am!”

Shaking her head, she tried to give a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. Any luck on the boots?”

He held up a pair of what were once very fancy snakeskin boots, except they were clearly falling apart in his paws. “Sorry; even if they were wearable, they’re a size eight. But that book’s in good shape! Think it’s something we can give the old man?” he asked excitedly.

Swallowing hard, Nami stared at the leather journal. “No. I don’t think he’d want to read this.” If Arlong had ever kept a journal detailing all the awful things he’d done to exploit her, she’d much rather see it burn.

The Mink’s ears drooped at her answer. “Nami, what are we going to do if we can’t get the supplies we need for the trade?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? They needed those things to free the crew and get them turned back into humans. But everything on board was garbage at best. They needed some kind of solution, otherwise Law and the rest of the Hearts could give up any dreams of sailing the Grand Line, much less finding the One Piece.

What would Luffy do in this kind of situation?

The answer was so obvious, she nearly laughed.

“We’ll give him supplies from the Tang.”

Bepo’s black, button-like eyes widened as his jaw dropped in disbelief. “What?!”

“He’s not asking much; just basic amenities. We can get some pots and pans from the galley. Law wears a size ten—we’ll give him a pair of his boots. There’s gotta be spare blankets, and the library has tons of books we can give him. Hell, according to this,” she said, holding up the journal, “he was a conservationist; maybe he’d like that encyclopedia set by Dr. Monroe.”

Twiddling his claws nervously, Bepo cautioned, “Law’s not going to like giving the guy who turned him into a leopard any of our stuff.”

“Well, if Law wants to be human again, he’ll have to deal with it. We’ve got plenty of cash to replace them. Hell, if antivenom goes for as much as you say, we’ll be making a profit from this trip, so it evens out. We’re not giving him anything we can’t easily replace on Atifakuto.”

He blinked, surprised at her determination. “You know, I always heard you were greedy and didn’t like spending even a single belli on anyone but yourself. But you’re being surprisingly generous.”

A deep, melancholy frown marred her beautiful face as she stared down at the journal. “That old man…he was a prisoner. His powers—his passion—was exploited by pirates for years. He was abused, tortured, forced to turn innocent people into animals to be sold or slaughtered…” A knot formed in her throat, but she stubbornly swallowed it down. “If all he wants is a few pots and pans and to live out his life alone, I’m willing to spend a few belli on that.”

A large paw gently patted her shoulder. “Ok. I understand,” Bepo replied sympathetically. “Should we go back to the ship?”

That would be a good idea, wouldn’t it? They didn’t need to linger. They could head right back to the Tang and start administering the antivenom.

Still, she didn’t want to risk anything happening to the glass vials if the ride back got bumpy. She didn’t want to use the blanket on the captain’s bed, though; it would disturb the bird’s nest, and enough animals had suffered aboard this ship. “We’ll check the crew’s quarters for those rags, then head back. But I think we can leave the lower level alone.”

“Ok, Nami,” Bepo said, giving a reassuring smile. “Should we leave the journal?”

She hadn’t realized she’d been holding the leather-bound book in a white-knuckled grip. She took a deep, steadying breath as she pried her fingers off the diary’s spine, tucking it into her knapsack. “No. We’ll give it to the old man—it’ll make good kindling.”

Knowing what kind of bastard lived in that room, Nami was more than happy to march out of the captain’s quarters onto the main deck. That man was a monster. She hoped he drowned in the storm, or got turned into something truly horrible, like a centipede, or dung beetle, or—

The sound of heavy flapping caught her attention, and Nami only just managed to duck out of the way as a pair of sharp talons attempted to rake across her face.

“Eeeek!” she cried, crossing her arms across her face defensively. She could feel heavy gusts of wind beat against her as the bird missed, swooping past to land on the deck with a heavy thump.

“Nami!” Bepo cried as he ran out, growling at the enormous black vulture that glared at them both. Its head was dark and bald, and the hazel eyes were so hatefully human there was no question that it was another transformed pirate.

“Stay out of our way,” Bepo said to it, taking a fighting stance. He wobbled slightly, the wood beneath him creaking and the slant not helping his balance, but his expression remained firm.

The vulture gave a drawn-out, hateful hissing sound as it spread its massive wings, indicating the ship.

“So you’re the captain, huh?” Bepo replied. “Well, your ship’s gross!”

Nami wanted to sigh at her friend’s terrible attempt at trash-talk, but she decided it was better to lead by example. “So, the old man turned you into a vulture, huh?” she asked, getting up and assembling her Clima-Tact. “Guess it’s fitting for a scavenger like you!”

The captain let out another hiss before taking off into the air, catching the wind and soaring above them, circling the ship as it formulated a plan.

Nami, however, wasn’t going to let that happen. “Cyclone Tempo!” she shouted, swinging her staff and launching a gust of wind at the bird. It did the trick of knocking it off-course, sending it further into the sky, but it also blasted Nami backwards with enough force to send her crashing through a rotten part of the deck floor.

She screamed as the wood splintered around her and she tumbled through the air. Luckily it wasn’t a long drop, and instead of landing on the floor she splashed into water, which was just deep enough to keep her from sustaining any major harm.

Sputtering, she stood up. The seawater reached her waist, and there were enough holes in the ceiling to let the moonlight in so she could see.

She wished she couldn’t.

Nami’s stomach turned as she took in the large room. There were cages everywhere. Many of them were broken and covered in barnacles after two months being submerged in salt water, but a few were still in decent enough shape that there was no doubt that the ship’s lower level had basically been a prison. To her left was a huge workbench covered in bone saws, knives for skinning, whips, chains, collars, and all sorts of other contraptions she didn’t care to identify.

Pirates like these reminded her why she didn’t believe people like Luffy existed for so long. They beat and tortured an old man, who just wanted to protect wildlife, for the sake of exploiting his powers. Then, they forced him to turn innocent people into animals so they could be sold as pets, skinned, or otherwise extorted.

This wasn’t right. Nami had no problem with animals being used for food or domesticated, but this was completely different, even if they hadn’t been humans first. Those pirates had gone out of their way to be cruel if the whips and chains on the wall were anything to go by.

“I’m beginning to think the old man’s inability to swim wasn’t the only reason he didn’t want to come back here,” she whispered to herself.

“Nami! Are you ok?!” Bepo called down, poking his head into the hole she’d fallen through. His eyes widened as he took in the cages, rusted saws, and chains. She could imagine that, even after two months being washed away by the brine, he could still smell lingering traces of blood and animal flesh.

When he bared his teeth in anger, Nami knew he’d managed to connect the dots of what exactly had occurred on the ship.

“I’m ok!” she assured, looking for the exit. “I’ll be right with you.”

“I’ll come down and get you!”

“Don’t risk it!” she cried, already wading towards the stairs. She could feel the rotten wood giving way beneath her with every step. “The floor can barely hold my weight, much less yours. Keep a lookout for that vulture, though!”

“Ok—” his response was cut off by a roar of pain, and through the gap between Bepo’s head and the edge of the hole Nami could see sharp talons grasping at his neck.

“Bepo!” she screamed, wading as fast as she could towards the stairs, stumbling over debris and holes and possibly even bones. She forced herself not to think about that—what mattered was getting upstairs and helping her friend!

Finally, she was able to pull herself out of the water, and the stairs cracked and broke beneath her feet as she ran up, but she didn’t care. When she got to the door at the top, she slammed her thin shoulder against it, fighting the rusty lock and hinges as they tried to keep her from the outside world. Not to be deterred, she braced herself against the corner of the stairway and unleashed another Cyclone Tempo to break them open.

The doors went flying, and Nami dashed outside in time to see the vulture take off, Bepo’s knapsack in its talons.

“No!” she screamed, futilely diving for the bird, but it was out of her reach. She was tempted to blast it down with a lightning bolt, but that would most certainly destroy the vials kept inside the bag. Another blast of wind would just push it further away, and her other attacks were useless.

As it flew towards the island, the vulture turned its bald head and gave a menacing hiss.

“What did it say?” Nami asked as she rushed to Bepo’s side. His neck and shoulders were scratched up, but his thick fur and skin had prevented them from going too deep.

“He said…he said ‘if you want the antivenom, bring us the doctor’,” he whimpered, looking confused. “But why would they want Law?”

“They don’t,” Nami replied sadly, staring at the island. “They want the old man.”

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