#static writings

[static-in-the-airwaves]

Posting this here. An incredibly self-indulgent Killjoy AU for Hello From The Hallowoods. Beeeeeeeaaaaar with me.

Summary:

Olivier Song is a S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W, the best of the best of Battery City’s prestigious Downing Hill Academy. Their first mission to the Zones, though, finds its hitch when they are sent after the Stone Maiden—a reclusive and dangerous rebel that’s been inspiring the desert for decades. A Fabulous Killjoys-flavored take on Hello From The Hallowoods.

[writeouswriter]

[scribblestatic]

So, you know how lanolin smells really nice to cats?

Well, Narinder is super standoffish after he's indoctrinated, but as time goes on, he finally starts putting some of his barriers down.

He sleeps in his own hut for a while, but he can't sleep well. He's not used to sleep. The Lamb only does it because "it's comforting" or something, but he hasn't done it in so long. So really, he's just been awake the whole time and increasingly cranky about it.

So Lamb, seeing him struggle to stay awake while working in the garden, pulls him over to their hut to talk out why he's not sleeping.

But Narinder starts dozing off within moments. Because Lamb's hut smells like them. Smells like their wool. Smells like lanolin.

And it's got him slumped on Lamb's couch, third eyelid partway over his squinted eyes, pupils blown wide as he purrs and sinks his claws into their cushions.

When he wakes up several hours later, he doesn't know what the hell happened.

Lamb simply smiles and sends him back home with a new blanket, made from a recent sheer.

Narinder calls the blanket gross.

He yowls like he's going to cause Armageddon if it goes missing.

[ruby-static]

Dude caught me taking a screenshot, I'm cooked-

[terrestrialnoob]

Robert Hawkins sat at the kitchen table, cutting out a news story for the slowly growing binder beside him. The headline read "Local Heroes Static and Gear Team Up with Two New Friends to Defeat Concrete Menace". Just as he got the cutout safely into a sleeve, he heard the front door open.

"Anybody home?" Virgil's voice called.

"In the kitchen."

Soon enough, Virgil was there with two people following behind him that Robert didn't recognize, but could guess the identities of. One was a little shorter than Virgil, a white boy with black hair and blue eyes who looked dead on his feet and desperate to cover that fact. He had the jumpy nervousness of a kid scared of any and all adults. The other was a little taller than Virgil, tan skin, black hair, and sharp green eyes. He looked at everything around him with disinterest, but Robert felt the boy was astounded by how mundane the home was.

"Sharon home?" His son asked.

"She's out with friends." He answered honestly.

"Cool," Virgil said, and then to the horror of the white kid, "This is Danny and Damian, they're some superhero friends of mine."

"You're dad knows?" Danny asked, his hand moving as if to grab Virgil and pull him away - a protective gesture, not meant to offend.

"Not everyone has villain parents, Fenton." Damian said, then stepped forward and almost too respectfully addressed Robert with a small bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hawkins."

"Ye- yeah." Danny feebly agreed.

"Don't worry, my pops is cool with heroes and all that." Virgil reassured then explained, "They're going to hang out here for a little while, Richie kinda wrecked the station when his tinkering got out of hand."

"I told him not to plug the ecto-battery directly into anything he didn't want coming to life." Danny commented.

"So, we're just going to hang out while he fixes that, then we'll get back to work."

Robert nodded and smiled, "Don't push yourselves too hard, take all the rest you need. That goes for Richie too."

Virgil beamed at him, "Thanks Pops! we'll be upstairs."

"Let me know if you need anything," Robert called as his son and his new friends left. He pulled out his phone and looked up what kind of heroes he just let in his home and try to find those parents he was going to have words with should they ever meet.

[fluentmoviequoter]

bang, baby

Pairing: Dick Grayson x fem!metahuman!reader (characterization up to you!)

Summary: After you move to Dakota City from Gotham, you find yourself dealing with metahumans and vigilantes yet again. Dick Grayson comes to check on you after an explosion and gets a surprising glimpse into your mind.

Warnings: fluff, very brief angst, spoilers/references to Static Shock, the entire Batfamily, people trash talking Gotham

Word Count: 5.5k+ words

Masterlist | DC/Dick Grayson Masterlist | Request Info

“Thank you for the opportunity, Mr. Hawkins,” you say over the phone. “I look forward to working with you and the people of Dakota.”

“I’m excited to see what you’ll bring to the center,” Robert Hawkins, the man in charge of Freeman Community Center, replies. “Dakota will certainly be a change from Gotham, but I trust you’ll adjust nicely.”

“Is that your polite way of saying that I won’t have to deal with Joker and Scarecrow anymore?” you joke.

Mr. Hawkins laughs but doesn’t deny it. It is no secret that Gotham has its downsides, but it’s been your home, it’s where you met your best friend, the people who have become your family. Dakota offers new opportunities and a viable way to help people in need, rather than sitting behind a computer while vigilantes do the heavy lifting.

“I’ll see you Monday morning, Mr. Hawkins.”

“See you Monday. Travel safe.”

The call disconnects, and you sit back and sigh. Your apartment has been packed up, and most of your belongings shipped to the small bungalow you rented on the outskirts of Dakota. The community center provides exactly what you want, a hands-on role in helping the next generation. Yet, as you look at the picture of Dick Grayson on your lock screen, you know that you’re leaving things behind, too.

“I miss you,” you whisper as your screen goes dark.

You’ve been friends with Dick Grayson for as long as you can remember; you stayed close after he moved to Blüdhaven to escape Batman’s shadow and a destiny he didn’t want. He’s supported you every step of the way, completely in favor of you doing something good for the children of Dakota. But there’s a nagging feeling that leaving him so far behind will be impossible.

Your first day in Dakota passes in a blur of unpacking and desperately avoiding thinking about Dick until you’re settled. As you collapse onto your new couch, only twelve hours before your first day at the community center, you close your eyes and try to relax. Mr. Hawkins asked you to come in before the center opens to tour the facility and get acquainted with everything.

“It’s a great facility, Mr. Hawkins,” you say as he leads you back to your office.

“Please call me Robert, Bob, anything except Mr. Hawkins,” he responds. “Here’s your door. We’ll get your name up here soon.”

“No rush; putting names on doors is the least of your worries.”

“My son Virgil is stopping by on his way to school and I think he’ll agree with me that having another full-time employee is deserving of her name on the door.”

You smile and look around the bare office. There’s a desk, a bookcase, and a file cabinet against plain tan walls. The room is begging for not only an occupant, but a personality and a welcoming feel for the people who rely on the center.

“Feel free to put your own touches, whatever you want to do with the space.”

“Thank you, Mr.- Robert.”

“Better,” he applauds.

“Pops!” someone yells.

“That would be my son,” Robert sighs. “In here, Virg!”

“Pops, I’m asking Frieda-“ Virgil stops when he sees you and greets, “Hey.”

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” you say, offering your hand. “Your dad’s told me some great things about you.”

“You moved here from Gotham?” he asks.

“I did. It’s sunnier here.”

“Safer, too.”

“Thanks in no small part to your dad, I’m sure.”

“As much as I’m enjoying this,” Robert begins.

“Do you know Batman?” Virgil asks, ignoring his dad.

“Can you keep a secret?” you whisper. Virgil nods quickly, and you say, “I’ve met all the bats and birds.”

“No way!”

“Precisely,” you say with a wink. “Between me and you?”

“For sure. Welcome to Dakota!”

“Virgil,” Robert calls. “Be good today.”

“Every day, pops! I’m good every day!”

As Virgil turns and exits the center, you shake your head. He reminds you of some of the previously mentioned bats when they were his age.

“He’s a good kid,” Robert muses. “But since his mom passed, I feel like I’ve had to remind him of that more often.”

“It’s hard,” you agree. “Losing a parent like that can make it too easy to lose sight of who you are. Virgil’s lucky to have you. All the kids here are.”

“You have to say that,” Robert jokes. “You’re from Gotham.”

The Freeman Community Center is relatively quiet on your first day, giving you time to remember where everything is, put some personal touches on your office, and figure out how to use the computer. It isn’t Wayne tech, but the outdated operating system isn’t easier to use. The phone on your desk rings later in the afternoon, and your brows pinch as you pick it up.

“Freeman Community Center on Dakota’s Ferris Row,” you begin, reading the printout of frequent questions and information Mr. Hawkins left you. “How can I-“

“We keep secrets, right?”

You turn away from the open door and whisper, “Virgil?”

“Yes or no?” he presses, his voice high and urgent.

“Virgil, that depends entirely on what you’re about to tell me.”

“I just- I need help, and my pops won’t understand.”

“What happened?”

“He always says I’m smart and asks me not to prove him wrong… what if someone else makes me?”

“Who?”

“Forget it,” Virgil decides.

“No, listen to me. I’ve been exactly where you are. It’s a tight spot but it’s not an impossible one.”

“I told my dad it was a football injury; if he finds out I even got near a gang… I can’t hurt him, so I have to do this alone.”

“Be careful, Virgil.” You hesitate before you add, “If you need anything…”

“Thanks, Gotham.”

You huff a laugh and reply, “No problem, Dakota.”

As you end the call, you notice a handwritten note from Mr. Hawkins at the bottom of the paper. It mentions gangs, the letter F, and someone named Wade.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Virgil?” you mumble.

Your bungalow is within walking distance of the center and the docks. The house is nice, safe, but is quiet enough that your Gotham-bred mind is uncomfortable. Your city never sleeps, coming to life after the streetlights come on, but Dakota is on a schedule that makes it impossible for you to ignore the silence. Flipping through channels, you try to find something to distract you, and when a news crew discussing Gotham pops up, you frown. It’s 600 miles to Gotham; there shouldn’t be a signal to broadcast Gotham City news.

“-Joker toxin dosing just last night,” the news anchor continues. “Aren’t you glad you aren’t in Gotham, Deb?”

“I sure am, Mike. Back in hometown news, Dakota residents have noticed an increase in traffic on-“

You turn the television off and check your phone. Jason texted you about the Joker toxin incident last night; several factory workers had been hospitalized, but the toxin was contained, and no one you know was affected. It was a relief, but your deep worry of not knowing when something else happens remains.

Your finger hovers over Dick’s contact. It’s been several days since you spoke to him, but if anything can make you homesick, it would be him. The sudden sound of helicopters flying over your house keeps you from texting him. You walk to the large window in your living room and see police choppers hovering with their spotlights pointed at the dock.

“Freeze!” someone demands over a speaker. “You are in a restricted area. Drop all weapons and step into the open.”

Gunshots echo as you turn the television back on to watch the helicopter footage. The boys at the docks look to be about Virgil’s age. A gang, you realize.

“No,” you whisper, rushing toward the front door.

As you near the road that leads you directly to the docks, an officer fires a nonlethal round from one of the helicopters. The noise is louder than it should be, pushing you backward as you cover your ears. It gets worse, however, when you notice the purple mist that covers the docks immediately after.

“Virgil,” you call, launching into a run.

Whoever is present needs help, but if Virgil is there, you must ensure he’s okay. As you near the fence on the east side of the docks, you slow. Virgil is climbing out of the secured part of the docks while police officers in gas masks are gathering the rest of the teenagers inside.

“What happened?” you ask.

Virgil looks at you before he falls off the fence and lands with an audible thud. You check his pulse and shake your head. He’s alive, breathing, and seems fine other than being unconscious. Carefully, you pull him up and thank Bruce for letting you train with vigilantes so often.

“I’ll get you home but I’m making you promise never to do this again,” you mumble.

You refuse to open your eyes the following morning despite your ringing phone. Blindly, you feel around your bed and nightstand until you find it.

“Hello?” you ask against your pillow.

“You are not gonna believe this, Gotham! Meet me at the auto junkyard. Do you know where that is?”

“Yeah,” you answer. It isn’t until after Virgil hangs up that you ask, “Why?”

When you reach the junkyard, you notice a blond boy with a green sweater wandering aimlessly. There’s a picture of him on Mr. Hawkins’ desk, and you think back to your tour as you try to remember his name.

“Richie?” you try.

He spins quickly and takes a step back. “Who are you?”

“I’m a friend of Virgil’s. He told me to meet him here,” you answer.

“Yeah, me too.” Richie sighs and murmurs, “I’m worrying about his butt and he’s rushing me off the phone and…”

“Whoa,” you whisper as Richie yells.

Before you, Virgil stands atop a stack of junk cars as several rise and move to other piles. He moves his hands, and you watch his face as this new power courses through him.

“Tell me that’s not cool!” Virgil exclaims.

“How the heck did you-“ Richie begins.

“There was an explosion last night. There was this gas. It changed me, Richie. Check it out!”

You watch Virgil as pink sparks fly from his hands to wrap around the hood of the car. It flies up, and Virgil balances on top as it circles the junkyard.

“No more asking my pops to borrow his car, dude!”

“V-man, you could be a superhero!” Richie yells excitedly.

“I could, couldn’t I!”

“Virgil!” you warn just before he crashes.

You walk to his side as Richie pulls him up and begins brainstorming ideas for protective gear. Looking into his eyes, you try to determine what other effects the gas may have had on him or anyone else.

“What?” Virgil asks. You tilt your head, and Virgil murmurs, “Oh.”

“What?” Richie repeats. “What oh?”

“I don’t like that look, Gotham.”

“And I don’t like seeing people react to airborne mutagens,” you reply. “Does your dad know?”

“No! And he doesn’t need to. Right?”

“I won’t tell him, but…”

“You’ll help me? You know other heroes.”

Richie looks between you and Virgil, and you sigh before you agree, “Yeah, I’ll help. But if I notice one thing that seems off, I’m getting you real help.”

“Deal, Gotham,” Virgil says, extending his hand.

“I’m not shaking your hand, Static.”

Richie and Virgil gasp together, and you roll your eyes at the realization that you just named another vigilante hero.

“Good morning,” Dick greets with a smile, and Haley tucked under his arm. “Beautiful day isn’t it?”

“What do you want?” Jason replies, blocking the door.

Dick sighs. “Why can’t you ever play along?”

“What do you want?”

“Fine, fine. Can you watch Haley for a few days?”

Jason looks at Haley, whose tail wags at his attention. “Where are you going?”

“Dakota. There was an explosion last night.”

“Yeah, the weird purple gas, I saw. She would’ve called if something happened.”

“She hasn’t called at all,” Dick admits softly. “I’m just worried.”

“I texted her after Joker dosed the warehouse workers. She was fine then.” Jason opens the door and takes Haley. He adds, “But I get it. Be careful.”

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“Just one?”

“I can start repayment with a hug,” Dick offers, spreading his arms.

He blinks as the door slams in his face. His phone buzzes with an update on the citizens of Dakota, and he runs to his bike so fast he nearly trips over it.

“Bruce Wayne. Leave a message.”

“Bruce, something happened. I’m going to the hospital now to look into it. Dakota might be a new breeding ground for metahumans. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

You save the voicemail as you enter the hospital. The emergency room is an open area to your left, and it is at maximum capacity.

“It’s getting worse,” a nurse says. “They keep mutating.”

You discreetly look through the first door and gasp. An explosion down the hall draws the attention of doctors, nurses, and patients, but you walk the other way. You have to find Virgil and fill in Bruce, in that order. On your way out, you snatch a newspaper from the stand by the door.

In your office at the center, you read the front page several times. The story isn’t surprising, but you know it is nowhere near finished.

“Bang baby,” you read from the newspaper. “Dakota’s better than Gotham, huh?”

You look up when Mr. Hawkins knocks on your door. “Join my family for dinner? It’s the least I can offer after the unsavory welcome you’ve gotten.”

“Oh, there’s no need. Your family deserves your time.”

“We eat at six. The address is in my contact. See you then!” Robert calls over his shoulder.

You drop your head and nod to no one. “See you then,” you reply weakly.

“Everywhere you look there’s another Bang Baby setting fires, wrecking buildings, scaring everybody, and no one’s doing anything about it,” Mr. Hawkins says at dinner.

“Well, what about that kid they were talking about on the news?” Sharon asks. “What’s his name? Static. He’s doing something, isn’t he?”

“Didn’t you hear what happened today? He got beat. Bad. Besides, he’s probably a Bang Baby, too.”

“If he is, he’s one of the few good ones.”

“Huh. For now.”

“What’s that mean?” Virgil demands.

“Nobody knows anything about these metahumans. What if Static keeps changing? What if he turns into some kind of monster? Nobody knows. Not even Static himself.”

“He’s willing to fight, though,” you point out. When all three Hawkins turn their attention to you, you clear your throat and explain, “He’s not mutating yet, like the rest of them, so it seems likely he never will. Plus, if he’s willing to fight the other Bang Babies, win, lose, or tie, I think he’d fight against any change he didn’t agree with.”

“That’s- I hadn’t considered it that way,” Mr. Hawkins admits. “I suppose you have a point. Fighters have something to fight for. Right, Virgil?”

Virgil smiles at you as he agrees, “Right.”

After dinner, Virgil walks you out and stops on the sidewalk. “You really think I won’t mutate?”

“Virg, the ones who are already mutating were probably closer to the explosion, exposed to more gas, there’s no way to know for sure. If you do, and I think it’s a big if, I’d anticipate it would be a slower, more manageable change. Something you can handle, no problem.”

“And you’ll help?”

You smile, but someone behind you answers, “That’s what she does best.”

Virgil looks over your shoulder, but you spin, your eyes widening as you run toward him.

“Dick!” you greet happily, throwing your arms over his shoulders as he catches you.

“I saw the explosion and was worried something happened to you. I should have known you were helping a young hero.”

“Hero?” Virgil repeats.

Dick looks at you as you move to his side, and you smile before you turn to Virgil. “I’ve been considered a sidekick for a very long time. Invisible but always there. Something you should remember, Virg.”

“I will. Nice to meet you…”

“Dick Grayson,” Dick introduces himself. “I take it you’re Virgil Hawkins.”

“Shake his hand,” you encourage.

“Why did you say it like that?” Dick demands, pulling his hand behind his back.

“Just do it.”

Dick reaches his hand out carefully, and Virgil shakes it without releasing any static electricity. You nod and wave to Virgil as he returns to his house.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” you tell Dick. “I thought I’d want to come back if I talked to you.”

“What happened?”

You glance back at Virgil’s house and decide, “It’s not my story to tell. What I do know is that there are a lot of metahumans in Dakota, and most of them are not good.”

“Did you tell Bruce?”

“I left a message. They- I just don’t know what to do.”

“What you came here to do. Help the people who need it most.”

“The center is for the poor, homeless, doomed narrative people, Dick, not metahumans.”

Dick lays his hands on your shoulders and smiles. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

“How long are you staying?”

Dick smiles and helps you onto his bike before he answers, “As long as I need to. I’ll do whatever I can, but I’ll also keep Bruce off your back. He’ll want to know everything, but your focus needs to be here.”

“Thank you.”

“Static,” Dick says. “That’s why you wanted me to shake his hand.”

“He’s gotten much better. But don’t tell him I told you anything.”

“You’ve been protecting my secret identity for over a decade, your secret’s safe with me.”

While Dick stays at your house and tells Bruce everything he’s found out about the explosion and metahumans, you accompany Mr. Hawkins to a meeting at city hall. Despite your best efforts to convince him otherwise, he approaches the podium to ask what the city’s leaders are doing about the Bang Babies.

“Mr. Hawkins, the topic of today’s meeting is budget appropriations,” a woman on the board replies. “There will be a general meeting next month and-“

“This can’t wait a month!” Robert exclaims, hitting his fists against the podium top. “You’re our leader, we put our faith and trust in you when we elected you, but you seem to be forgetting that you serve us, we don’t serve you!”

As the crowd cheers, you lean toward Virgil.

“I’d hate to be on the other side of that,” you whisper. “But you know he’s not attacking you right? He’s just looking out for the greater good.”

“Sounds like your pops took some public speaking classes,” Richie muses.

“Nah,” Virgil replies, “he just gets lots of practice talking to me that way.”

“We all know the police have what’s left of the tanks the gas was in, so why haven’t they been able to trace the owner?” Robert asks.

“Someone’s working on that,” you tell Virgil.

“Batman?” he asks, wide-eyed at the idea.

“Maybe.” You look down at your phone and notice a message from Bruce. “Does the name Alva mean anything to you?” you ask Virgil.

He and Richie turn to each other, then smile at you. “It certainly does. Care to help us out with this one?”

“Better that than send you out alone.”

“Don’t lose him,” Richie instructs from your passenger seat.

“Rich, this isn’t my first time tailing a bad guy, just calm down,” you reply. “Virgil’s listening in on Alva and he’ll let us know about any changes.”

“Guys, Alva is sending someone else to wipe hard drives of mutagen formulas and shipping records,” Virgil says through Richie’s walkie-talkie. “He wants everything saved somewhere else so he can start over.”

“Where’s the lab?” you ask Richie.

“Take the next right,” he instructs. Virgil flies over you, and he amends, “Or just follow him.”

You pull the walkie-talkie from Richie and radio, “Be careful, Virg. We’re right behind you.”

“10-4,” he replies.

When you park behind Alva’s lab, Richie reaches for the door handle, but you stop him.

“We wait here,” you instruct. “If Virg needs help, I’ll go in.”

Several minutes later, after Richie has grown increasingly nervous and antsy, a window on the second floor shatters as Virgil flies out on a metal utility cart. You back out slowly and drive around the back of the building to meet Virgil. He did it alone, but that doesn’t mean he won’t have questions or concerns about how and what he did.

“This is everything?” you ask as you hold up the disc.

“Yep. Once the doctors see it, I’ll know if I can stop worrying,” he answers.

“Worrying?” Dick repeats.

“Virgil thinks he’s going to keep mutating like some of the other Bang Babies.”

“Don’t you think that would have happened by now?”

You gesture toward Dick to communicate, see? It’s the logical explanation, and you hope Virgil will see that now.

I missed you, you think as you look at Dick. His eyes are on you as Virgil and Richie theorize what data Alva saved. Dick stands and drops his eyes to your lips.

“Do that again,” he instructs.

“Do what again?” you ask.

“Just…” Dick trails off and places his hand on your shoulder as he leans toward you.

I knew talking to you would make me homesick.

“How close did you get to that mutagen gas?” Dick inquires.

“I don’t know,” you answer, shrugging. “To the fence, so ten yards from the purple cloud, maybe?”

“You were that close to the gas zone, and you didn’t tell me?” Dick asks as he steps back. “We’re leaving.”

“What? Why?” you inquire as Virgil begins arguing against you leaving. “Dick, I can’t leave!”

“You just talked to me without opening your mouth!” he exclaims, tossing his jacket to you. “Something happened to you, and I’m not going to sit around and wait to find out if it gets worse.”

“He didn’t care if I got worse,” Virgil murmurs to Richie.

He’s protective, you think as you glance toward him.

“Whoa! Get your voice out of my head.”

“I’m not trying to do it,” you defend. “What can you hear?”

“Your thoughts, I think,” Dick answers. “I highly doubt you wanted me to hear it.”

“One day,” you tell him, convinced by the idea that you could accidentally share something with someone you trust less. “You have one day to run the tests and then I’m coming back. I can’t leave now, Dick.”

“Fine. We’ll be back. If you need anything, call her.” He passes a card to Virgil and reluctantly adds, “Or him.”

“This is- there’s a-“ Virgil stutters.

“That’s a bat!” Richie exclaims. “Is this Batman’s number?”

“Yes, and if you call him for anything short of an emergency, he will be very mad.”

“Oh, of course,” Virgil agrees. “Good luck.”

“Hey,” you call, looking back. “Whatever answers I get help you, too. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and it’ll work out.”

“You got it, Gotham.”

“Stay you, Static.”

As you follow Dick to his motorcycle, you try to keep your thoughts calm and meaningful. He turns toward you and offers you a helmet, but he lays his hand against your cheek before you can put the helmet on.

“Relax,” he says. “I won’t listen.”

“I don’t want to say – think - something I shouldn’t,” you mumble.

“It’s me. Think whatever you want.”

“Promise not to get scared away if I let a secret slip?”

Dick smiles as he says, “I promise. You’re stuck with me… like static.”

“I don’t see any physical effects of the gas,” Bruce declares. “But you’re clearly telepathic.”

“Great,” you grumble. “Known for my ability to keep secrets and one little explosion opens my brain up to everyone.”

“Quite the opposite,” Bruce corrects. “It seems to me that only people you trust have been able to hear your thoughts, and it’s only active thoughts at this point. With practice, I see no reason you couldn’t gain control and be able to both send and receive message telepathically.”

“How do I practice that?”

“Intentional telepathy. Send thoughts to people rather than speaking, try to get in the head of someone you trust.”

You nod and purse your lips. Dick wants to know what you’re thinking, and, of course, it’s not clear this time.

“You want me to stay, don’t you?” you ask.

“Pure-hearted metahumans are hard to come by. There are more than enough villains and crooks in Gotham who would stop picking fights once a telepath was involved,” Bruce points out. “I’d love to have you with us.”

“I… I want to go back to Dakota. Virgil needs my help and all of those metahumans are just as lost and scared as I am. The difference is that they’re dangerous in their fear. But I know that Gotham needs all the help it can get, too.”

You look to Dick, but he shakes his head and says, “I’m not telling you want to do. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.”

“I’m going back to Dakota,” you declare. “Thank you, Bruce.”

“Of course. You know where to find me if you need anything else or want to strike fear into the hearts of Gotham’s criminals.”

Yet you didn’t answer your phone, you think pointedly.

Bruce shakes his head as the thought enters his mind, and you smile at how easy it is. As you follow Dick out of the Batcave, you know that the road ahead of you won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.

“I’ll call this time,” you promise as Dick prepares to return to Blüdhaven. “Thanks for everything, Dick.”

“Any time. Thanks for the glimpse into your mind,” Dick replies, then winks.

“It was never for Gotham. The homesick feeling.”

“What was it for?”

“I think you know, Boy Wonder.”

Dick shakes his head as he slides his helmet over his hair. “I’ll call if you don’t,” he threatens.

“Understood, Nightwing, sir.”

Dick waves as he pulls away from your house. That homesick feeling settles below your concern for Virgil and yourself, and you push it down further as you get ready for work. The community center needs you first.

“Good morning, Robert,” you greet as you enter.

“Good morning. How was your trip to Gotham? I wish you’d taken up my offer to stay longer,” he replies.

“It was good. I refuse to leave you any longer than necessary, especially since I’ve only been here a week.”

“Community, family, it’s what we do here.”

You smile and accept a hot drink from Robert before you walk to your office. Several meetings with female students are on your calendar this afternoon, and you’ve set aside two hours to plan a basketball game fundraiser. The busy day should keep your mind off of Dick, and as long as you keep your thoughts in your own head, it should be a nice return to work.

“Gotham!” Richie yells.

You look up from the paper in your hand and frown. Richie slides to a stop, out of breath, as he points toward the docks.

“Bang Babies, like, all of them,” he pants. “Virg can’t hold ‘em.”

Your eyes widen as you realize what he’s saying. Virgil is alone against a multitude of metahumans with no backup. At least until you arrive. You usher Richie into your car and speed to the entrance of the docks.

“Wait!” Richie yells. “This is for you.”

He hands you a metal case, and you open it quickly. There’s a gray spandex suit covered with black embroidery that you think is meant to be EEG results.

“Brain waves?” you ask, looking at Richie.

 “I know you don’t have a name yet, but Virg and I were messing around and… it should fit.”

You smile and thank Richie before you run into a nearby outbuilding and pull it on. It fits well, though you’re not surprised that Virgil and Richie managed it. As you move through the buildings and shipments surrounding the docks, you count over twenty Bang Babies and see Virgil struggling to hold off at least ten more.

You close your eyes and think about the people you love. Telepathically, you call out – or try to call out – Batman, we need backup in Dakota. The docks. Send everyone you can spare. I love you all.

After adding the last part about loving them, just in case, you jump into the fight. Hotstreak is closest to Virgil, and you invade his mind with thoughts of icebergs and cold water splashing on him. He flinches back as if the water extinguished his flames, and you turn your attention to the next person.

“Is that Batman?” one of the Bang Babies yells.

You don’t turn, focusing on Boom, a metahuman who can generate sonic waves. Once he’s disoriented, Static moves in and pushes him into a shipping container where his power can be contained.

“You called in backup?” Virgil asks.

“I didn’t think they’d come,” you defend.

“Way to have faith in us!” Red Hood yells as he dodges a punch.

Robin tuts behind him, wielding a katana. “You are family, or so they keep telling me.”

“Ebon!” Richie yells from the other side of the fence. “Don’t let him get away, Static!”

“I’ve got Ebon!” you announce. “Static, Replay!”

Johnny Morrow waves at Robin and then splits into several clones of himself.

“I’ve had so much coffee that I was already seeing two of you,” Red Robin taunts. “Come at me, one kid wonder.”

“Are you chasing shadows?” Nightwing asks as he falls into step with you, running toward the lone streetlight over the docks.

“Ebon can slip into the shadows, he can teleport, but if I can see him, I can stop him.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mostly,” you answer after several steps. “Bruce brought the whole family, I see.”

“You sent the message to all of us,” Dick says. “We all boom tubed here.”

“Oh. I’ve got this, go help the others. We’re outnumbered.”

“Be careful!”

Dick turns and pulls his Escrima sticks from their position on his back and taps them together as he moves toward Leech.

“Try to fight without power!” Leech bellows.

“Sorry… no superpowers for you to turn off,” Dick taunts with a smile.

You tune out the sound of the fight behind you as you search for Ebon. Just ahead of you, you can sense someone thinking.

Ebon, you call telepathically. Talon made you sound so scary. I wasn’t expecting you to run from a fight.

He doesn’t reply or move, but you can sense his discomfort with having another voice in his mind.

Since I’m here and you’re a bad host, maybe I should look around for myself.

You navigate to one of his memories, watching in your mind as he fought a Bang Baby. He won, so you dig for another. When you reach a fight from the day after the explosion, Ebon slings his head to the side.

That won’t work, I’m in your mind, not on your head, you explain. Unless you’re ready to come out and face me like a man. Or do you think it’ll go as well as the last time you fought a girl? Her memories are much different than yours.

Ebon launches out of the shadows, and you fill his mind with an image of falling. He crashes to the ground, and Virgil binds him with looping static.

“Try teleporting with the entire dock stuck to your back,” Virgil says.

“How many more?” you ask.

“None. Your, uh, friends are very efficient.”

“Did you hear that?” Red Robin asks. “He called us your friends.”

“If your need for aid has been met, I’d like to return home to Titus,” Robin adds.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply. “Thank you all, for everything. I meant what I said.”

“We know,” Red Hood assures. “See you at family dinner? We know boom tubes work here now, so no excuse!”

“I’ll be there,” you promise.

“Nice work,” Batman applauds. “You, too, Static. Hold on to that card you have.”

“Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” Virgil replies.

The boom tube opens behind them, and they step in one after the next. When it closes, you turn and high-five Virgil. He smiles at something over your shoulder before he runs toward Richie to relive every glorious moment. Dick walks toward you, visible now that Virgil isn’t between you.

“I thought you left,” you say, tilting your head to the side.

Dick looks down at your new suit and exhales dramatically. “Bang, baby.”

You laugh and push your hands against his chest, but instead of shoving him backward, you grip his suit and pull him toward you. His lips meet yours, and fireworks explode overhead. You know that they’re real, Virgil’s doing, but you don’t care about that or anything else as Dick wraps his arms around your waist and kisses you.

You’ve dreamed of this moment for years, thought of it daily since Dick left Gotham, and it’s everything you dreamed it would be. Breathless, you pull back and smile at Dick as he removes his domino mask. You only have a moment before you must leave, make room for the police to take the most dangerous of the Bang Babies in. But, in that moment you have left, you look at Dick and think…

Bang, baby, indeed.

He pulls you close and leads you away from the docks. You both ignore the sirens approaching behind you as you get in your car and drive in the dark to your house.

“It’s a nice suit,” Dick mentions after you change out of it.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “It wasn’t my idea.”

“Trust me, I know.”

“Thank you for coming.”

“You know I always will. I’ve been homesick without you, too.”

You lean in to kiss Dick again, and just before your lips meet, you think, I love you, Dick Grayson.

[prince-liest]

Vox's priorities are SO intact.

[staticstray]

if you guys use those random name generators regularly, you might have noticed they tend to spit out the same names over and over again, because they aren’t actually infinite, they just choose from a list. so here’s a little tip for finding real names that haven’t been overused (works best for modern names):

originally i was using wikipedia to look at random movies and steal from cast lists of names, but i figured out imdb has an advanced search option that lets you put in date and country of origin and gives you a whole list of films. you can look at the cast and crew and get actual names from real people (obviously mixing and matching first and last names for your characters). you can also choose other options to get more obscure movies to avoid running into big actor names.

like if your story takes place in the 80s in france, you can search these parameters and get a whole bunch of names of real french people from that time period. unfortunately this only works as far back as movies have been made, but it’s still pretty reliable and has a huge variety of movies from all over the world.

idk if anyone has ever suggested this before, but this what i have been doing for a long time and it’s really helpful! i’ll do this for like 30 minutes at a time and just collect a huge list of names i like for characters :)

[theconstantsidekick]

so tempted to write him into the static verse SO FUCKING TEMPTED

[waldau-archived]

crescendo — chwe hansol | 1,042 words | fluff

boinon! chwe! hansol! back on my marriage agenda because it's ME. song taken from vernon's playlist from weverse magazine. also i'm a firm believer that vernon is the kind of guy who looks at two of anything and just goes "us." please enjoy me simping for him.

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

you notice vernon's not sleeping anymore.

he's looking up at you from where his head is resting on your chest. he always does this thing where his gaze is focused on you till you acknowledge it, whether it's by asking him what's up, or blushing at how intense it is.

this time, though, you don't do anything to shake the moment. so it's just you looking down into his eyes that are looking back at you, and it's not the first time you've paused to admire his eyes.

before vernon, you didn't really understand how you could be lost in someone's eyes. but his eyes? hazel brown, shining when they catch the light just right, a hundred thoughts running through them. streaks of light you wish you could decode.

there's a soft love song playing in your ears while your hands rest on his chest, tracing the shapes of the stars on his shirt. he manages to look good even when he's upside down, somehow.

soft. vernon would shake his head if you said that to him out loud, but he wouldn't deny it. not anymore. he likes when you call him nicknames. he likes when you call him, even. content to listen to your self-professed rambling about whatever's on your mind.

just like you're content to listen to him ask you ridiculous questions out of the blue. ridiculous to anyone who doesn't know him.

"do you believe we're made of the same stuff stars are made of?"

you'd blinked out of the show you'd been watching. "i...yeah? technically? hydrogen and all."

"does that mean we found each other all those years ago? and not just now?"

vernon has a way with words, really. he doesn't downplay it, but that's because you don't let him know how much it affects you in the first place. you could be talking about two seeds in a segment of tangerine and he'd say it was the both of you. two moths flying around a lamp? you.

and then there's times you think his humour couldn't get any worse.

"hey, you dropped something."

you'd looked around to find nothing out of place. "what?"

"my jaw."

suffice to say, vernon didn't get a single kiss from you for the next few hours.

(of course, you'd had to make it up to him with a ton of kisses and cuddles later on.)

right now, he's still looking at you, and the song has changed. you don't know the name of it, having picked it from the playlist vernon made for you, that he keeps adding to.

i hope you like this, he'd said shyly, when he'd sent you the link to it.

it's not surprising that you've liked almost every song you've heard so far. of course, there's a few that don't match your vibe, but when you close your eyes and think of vernon enjoying the song, lost in his own world, it makes you like them a little more.

back to the present. your fingers are tapping along to the rhythm of the song, something about love and self-doubt, upbeat yet heart-wrenching with a guitar riff that's so painfully vernon that you have to lean down and kiss his head.

vernon grabs your fingers where they're dancing on his chest and presses a kiss to your thumb. then your index finger. then the rest of your fingers. and then your palm.

you stop the song, amused at how affectionate he's being.

"what's up?" you ask, taking off your earphones.

he shakes his head. you push at his shoulder lightly.

"keep listening to your song."

you frown. "am i ignoring you?"

vernon sighs. "not at all. it's just...you'll stop doing it if i point it out."

"stop doing what?"

he takes your hand and places it on his chest, trapping it in place with his own. "you do this...thing. you tap out a song on me when we're not listening to it together. and then i try to guess what you're listening to. and i almost always get it wrong. it's...silly."

your heart feels too big for your chest. "vern? have i ever told you how much i love you?"

he shuts his eyes, a smile on his face. "yeah. 'course you have. love you, too."

squeezing his hand that's holding yours, you resume playing the song. he lets go of your hand so you can continue tapping out the beats.

"can you guess what it was?" you ask, once the song ends.

"hm. kinda fast paced, and there's only a few of those on there. breaking the law?"

"nope."

"rock with you?"

you shake your head. "did you really add one of your own songs on there?"

"hey, we make good music, too."

"never denied that."

vernon shrugs. "i don't know."

"marry me."

vernon freezes noticeably under your hand, before pushing it away and sitting up, staring at you.

it's just you and him and the silence in the room. his eyes have you trapped in place, unable to look elsewhere.

"by ellegarden!" you blurt out, suddenly realizing how your words could be misconstrued. "it's..." you scroll through the playlist. "the first song you ever put in there."

"oh," is all he says, but he's blushing. he's blushing. you made your famously stoic boyfriend blush.

"vernon? did you think i..."

"...maybe?"

you let out a small laugh at that. "do you really think...have you ever thought about getting...y'know?

"married?" he asks, smirking. "you shouldn't ask me about it if you're so shy."

"i didn't—!" it's a losing battle. of course you've thought about it, and of course you're shy about it. spending the rest of your life with the person who means the most to you sounds like a dream, and you're living in it right now. halfway there.

"if it's any consolation," vernon says, slotting his fingers with yours, "i've thought about it."

"and?"

"i like it."

it's nearing six in the evening. vernon has his head on your chest again, listening to a song with you this time. you're going to have to listen to it again, the way your brain is clouded by thoughts of him and you.

it can't get better than this.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi

[hiemaldesirae]

unbelievable

[silverskye13]

I'm back again. I've been doing that thing where I listen to ambient music [Nobody playlists are very very good] while I'm writing so I can disassociate and Just Work, and every time I turn it off "Ares! Ares!" From Epic, and the start of his song blasts through my head. Stop. Stop it. Stop doing that.

[scribblestatic]

*checks the notes*

Oh, this one's a banger, I see. Well, let's continue it then.

Part 1 here

---

Shen Yuan inherits Shen Jiu's somewhat broken cultivation base. However, he's got different stressors, and the heart demons don't hit the same. So, surprise surprise, he's able to bring out some of Shen Jiu's cultivation in ways the OG couldn't.

For example, it takes a bit, but Shen Yuan learns the very delicate method of using qi to turn pages. Which, honestly, he didn't think was particularly impressive, but Luo Binghe recognizes it for the absolute skill it is.

Since Shen Yuan confessed to growing up in a world without qi or cultivation that he was aware of, he'd never felt qi before. Yet, within a few weeks of being in his world (after Luo Binghe carefully fed him until his hair stopped breaking off and his ribs stopped showing), he was doing the very delicate work of minute movements with qi.

Shen Yuan's also learning how to write with ink and qi, using the qi to move the brush around. His writing is...incredibly sloppy at first, but the more he practices, the better he gets. It's even legible now, and very slowly easing its way into being elegant!

Other movements, like catching water pitchers before they fall and carefully moving a cup to his mouth are a tad more difficult, especially the heavier the object is. Like muscles that haven't been moved in a while, he has to work to improve, and he throws himself wholeheartedly into it. Even if he's sweating from exertion, he keeps it up until he gives himself a migraine and has to be coddled for a while after.

That said, he can't move himself around. As in, Shen Yuan cannot use his qi to float quite yet. So, in theory, he should have an attendant to carry him around.

However, Luo Binghe is also loathe to let anyone else move him. So, of course, that means Shen Yuan spends almost all of his waking hours by the Demon Emperor's side.

At first, Luo Binghe barely let him leave the room, too anxious about losing his 'nice shizun' to someone else's machinations when they just started getting to know each other more (knowing each other in ways he never got to with many of his wives). And, well, he won't lie. He likes being the one A'Yuan relies on the most for his daily care, even if he does feel regret while using his blood mites to fend off his many little pains all over his body as he heals.

When some of the more vindictive wives see Shen Yuan as a threat to their position, they start trying to send little assassins in Luo Binghe's absence, but he's super safe in Binghe's quarters, able to wiggle around on his bed or fall on soft pillows if he manages to roll off the mattress and onto the floor. Every bit of food that enters his room is heavily regulated, and his walls are warded up to the nines.

After the first three wives face execution, the assassination attempts petter off. They reduce further once Luo Binghe starts carrying Shen Yuan around.

Shen Yuan's robes are made with full legs and arms in mind, so a good bit of them remain floppy and unfilled by any limbs. However, they fit his torso, what remains of his limbs, and his quite lovely face nicely. Moreover, Luo Binghe always carries Shen Yuan like he's precious despite the disability he forced on his body. When he has to set him down, it's always on a soft pillow seat...or his lap, as they get to know each other further.

After all, while Shen Yuan did think himself straight, he could admit that Luo Binghe was beyond the limitations of gender attraction. Of course Binghe was more handsome than anyone else in the world, even when he wasn't at his healthiest. As he grows healthier, it's like the man's practically glowing! How could he not be attracted to that, ha? He's only half blind!

As far as Luo Binghe being attracted to him though, well, that takes some time to convince him. After all, he doesn't see himself as very attractive.

For one, he's a man. But, well, Luo Binghe expressed that he didn't really mind men. It just so happened so many of those he encountered and married were women. Men weren't off the table. And, well...Binghe would know himself more than Shen Yuan would know him, right? Because, well, things are so different and events he never witnessed from the book happened, like finding the 'nice shizun' in the first place. So...perhaps a few other things are different than expected? And, well, congrats, men! They're also viable for Binghe! They can rejoice! He absolutely didn't feel a skip in his heartbeat at that realization!

For two, though, he's in the body of one of Binghe's main abusers. Him not being Shen Jiu wouldn't change that (because he's not Shen Jiu, he knows it...right? Those dreams were just memories to update him on the situation. He didn't do those terrible things to Binghe, and if he did, then, shit, he did deserve to awaken in this torn-up wreck of a body--). Surely he couldn't be attracted to him because of that.

However, when Binghe looks at him and says the way he carries himself is so different, he doesn't see his old shizun in him, that does make him feel a bit fluffy.

And, for three...uhm...ugh... There's supposed to be a third point, surely! They just... He's not a good match! Yes, that's it. He's not a good match for Luo Binghe. He's not particularly powerful, beautiful, or smart. In fact, he can be quite lazy and indecisive, just wanting to read books all day! Yes, he helps Luo Binghe with his work, but that's just a given to help Binghe when he asks for it!

Even if it kinda puts him on the spot sometimes!

"How do you think I should punish him, Shizun?"

The 'him' in question is a cultivator from one of the lingering sects, one who attempted to use the terrible, scalding venom of a Carapaced Scorpion Buffalo to kill one of Binghe's advisors or something of the sort. Shen Yuan hummed a little as he thought.

He was in the body of a cultivator, so surely one would expect him to request mercy for the person. But it's not like Shen Yuan knows who the guy is. Moreover, that poison could've ended up in one of the wives' drinks, or even Binghe's! Although he could heal from it, having a scalded throat for any period of time would be quite terrible.

"Well, he brought the Carapaced Scorpion Buffalo venom to poison someone's drink. Then, if we were to tie him with immortal binding cables, he would be able to experience what he almost forced on someone else, right? Ah, though, let's not cut off his cultivation completely. Though he'll heal slowly, he should be fine in the end."

Of course, Shen Yuan doesn't know the sort of image he makes, sitting on a smaller throne next to Luo Binghe's his seat less ornate but just as elegant and powerful as the Demon Emperor's. Although his limbs don't move, he's using his qi to move a fan and fan himself a tad stiltedly, but considering such oscillating movements are difficult for many cultivators, it's still a show of his increasing expertise.

Despite his clearly maimed form, he didn't hesitate to suggest it as a punishment, though Luo Binghe didn't tell him that the very person the cultivator was trying to poison had been him, presumably out of pity for his condition.

Luo Binghe grins from ear to ear.

"What a wonderful suggestion, Shizun. I think that's perfect."

I think, after a few more incidents and relying on A'Yuan's judgement for certain issues, receiving positive results, he decides to officially marry him. Which, yeah, that really shocked Shen Yuan...but...well.

He can't very well deny Binghe what he wants when he can reasonably give it, can he? Besides, if Binghe wants him despite everything...

Stop that, heart. Stop feeling so swollen with love and affection. His face is too thin for such emotions.

---

I think I'll actually talk about the crowning ceremony if I continue this, cause, like, I am thinking about how fuckin enraged Yue Qingyuan would be upon hearing that Shen Jiu was being named Luo Binghe's empress. Because, surely he couldn't have agreed to that of his own free will.

Yes, it was about time for Cang Qiong Mountain Sect to be more adamant about retrieving Shen Qingqiu, isn't it? They had become stable enough now after the merging of the three realms. Although they suffered many casualties, getting him back would, at the very least, ease their anxieties over how he's being treated.

He has suffered enough. To be made into a fool as some ridiculous ploy to humiliate him... Enough is enough.

---

Part 1 Part 2: here Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10

Part 11+: links on Part 10

AO3

[fake-mouthstatic]

moon

@118dailydrabble, day 49. bucktommy, rated G. continuation of day 45, wish.

🔥

"I think that might be one of the cheesiest things you've ever said," Buck teases, turning to smile at Tommy, who, he notices with a giddy kind of delight, is still staring at him instead of the sky above, his eyes shining brightly in the moonlight.

"Oh, top ten for sure," Tommy replies, his own grin pulling at the corners of his eyes, scrunching his wrinkles in a way that Buck had quickly come to associate with his own happiness. "Although I'm not sure you get to judge, mister better than fake mouth static."

Buck laughs a little sheepishly.

"Yeah, okay, I guess we're just as cheesy as each other."

Tommy grins.

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

read the others here

[karinadele]

Waiting for the Night

Idw Megatron x Reader

No warnings! Gen reader!

Follow up to my earlier megs post, i think i want to start a series/collection on the lost light crew pit stopping on earth.

We always have fics of liaisons onboard the ship, but never how they met/the crew interacting with earth. Gonna have to be multiverse cause otherwise it dont make sense!! I wanted to do holoforms to make things linear, but if i shove it into multiverse maybe they can just not?? lmao??

i think i'll do little drabbles of each bot and their adventures??

Megs is gonna be the one with the singer/songwriter

loosely stole reader converting meg's poems' idea from @infintyfandoms!!

Earth, Kilocycle 2025 (tentative lmaaoo)

Lost light lands on earth for a quick refuel and sightseeing, (and hope Rodimus doesn't get into shit)

Megatron is rather uncomfortable about this whole thing as he’s been on earth before… and the fact he caused many issues on it.

As they approach earth’s atmosphere, making contact with earth governments and space agencies.

The crew’s excited. 

While the crew only carried Shanix, the governments of different countries are more than happy to start a bidding war over it. Creating a new form of a currency and by consequence, a new stock market over it.

Megatron's plan's are simple, do what they need to do, stay out of trouble.

Of course that never plays out, one thing after another, next thing you know, Rodimus is dragging them to a human concert.

You're a singer/songwriter, and here you are, on the latest tour. Last stop before the leg ends, tired but still very excited. How can you not! Seeing fans come out to support you -some of them even tagging along every city to view you perform.

What you didn't expect to have found at your concert were Cybertronians. It's been decades that Earth has accepted them as an intergalactic species. -The first ones to come in contact with your planet.

Regardless, performing for a different alien species was definitely not part of your bucket list. But! Definitely a welcomed one!

Rodimus only managed to score a few tickets, (he could have gotten more, but venue limits was not very happy about filling in the whole stadium with nothing but bots) (bring ur favorites ig)

(I'm slotting in rod/megs/drift/i want mags but i know he'll get a headache lMAAOO)

(wish i can bring blaster/soundwave/jazz/the ones still on cybertron -aka AU that shit where they are on lost light!!)

You and your band perform away. (I prefer band?? Could be solo artist too?? omg what if each band member gets their own little arc with a bot lmaaooo)

The bots spend their time sipping highgrade and enjoy the performance.

Megatron especially latched onto the lyrics.

Rodimus fucks with the drums and beat

Drift is vibing along, probably fucks with the lyrics as haikus and melody (can we get him a japan arc)

Ultra Magnus want's to die, but eventually warms up to it after a couple drinks and primus he is dancing away. (alternatively if its an outdoor venue and you want spicy, mf totally strips his armor lMAAOO)

Soundwave is 100% recording without consent

Blaster is actually enjoying and dancing away

While it's not like Cybertronians never had music or performances back on Cybertron, they were totally different from Earth's version. Top it off with millions of years of war, it basically was foreign. Besides, listening to songs for the first time live without prior knowledge is difficult. But not for Megatron. Something about the flow of the lyrics and melody drew him in.

It felt like a poem. A piece of writing animated into life, becoming an artform. One that's being presented in front of his very own optics.

Performance arts. As he was told. And now he understood why.

(insert his rambling and thoughts about xyz songs, i have not decided what songs/if i write my own shit lmaaoo someone analyze music with me from their perspective!!)

After the performance, you and your band are catching a break in the backrooms. (Can go several routes, either obsessive!megs rescans your tour bus and takes the form ((i seriously cant see it)) or through ~intergalactic~ powers with the governments or whoever, managed to secure vvip slots and manages to meet you)

You two hit it off. (Romantic or platonic i did not decide!!)

Spending the time Megatron has on earth discussing music, lyrics writing, songwriting, and poetry. You explain that Earth music is a very similar to poetry, Often starts off as that, incorporated into a melody. Or vice versa.

You also explain that Earth has several languages, and you often pull elements from them to combine them into a song.

Hearing this, Megatron was excited. Over the sort time, he's warmed up to you and wanted to share his writings with you, but being more on the reserved side, he didn't want to open himself up like that yet. (Yet you did lmao??) But hearing that you enjoy languages and analyzing works from all different places made him finally sheepishly share some of his writings. (Alternatively crack reader version, you scurry like a fucking raccoon and steal his works, i know i would)

You find his writing absolutely beautiful. Originally having him translate his works from Cybertronian into English, as time restrain never allowed you to learn the language.

You don't tell him, but you're already planning to convert his works into music. (Romantic divergence you write it just for him, platonic you perform it for everyone. Give him royalties!! Shanix is a proper currency now!! You start playing the Shanix market with profit from his share, saving it for next time he comes back.) (honestly even romantic route can be performed live, just when LL comes back again)

Ideally you keep in touch with him even when he's departed Earth and back on LL adventures. (If you want angst, we can make it not lmaoaoo)

You already spend plenty of time studying language and songs of the world, but paid extra attention to Cybertronian after this encounter. Wanting to understand the meeting behind his poems. As Cybertronian, is a complex language, a different system that's extremely versatile and open ended when it comes to context.

Spending time translating, and re-writing his thoughts into English, you eventually dedicate a song (or album if you won the right type of adhd ig)

Years later, the LL returns back (we ignore the fact LL timeline is a mess and has multiple alternate dimensions) and either from him keeping in touch with you, or because he hunted your band down with the ~world wide web~ you two reunite and you perform the song.

Album version would have the whole band performing, but special for this concert, you adjusted the set list to a ballad with only an either guitar/keyboard synth/piano version.

Megatron found the performance to be haunting. Even though he's in the farthest rows, vision isn't an issue for Cybertronians. A simple zoom and he can see everything up close. The way your lips tremble with each vibrato, the way you have your eyes closed as you keep on beat with your hands, even the way your voice nearly cracks and how you're choking back tears in the verses. Raw emotion. Emotion he never knew how to portray during his time as a Decepticon leader. Yet wanted to so badly since the days of a miner. He's finally found peace in his spark of what he meant.

Every verse and chorus was created with his writing. A powerful display of passion strung together from his words. One that his very spark flares to the beat of.

[sky-scribbles]

The draft of a letter, found on a desk in the Veil Jumper camp

Rook,

Irelin keeps telling me, ‘Just write to Rook, Strife! It won’t kill you! It doesn’t have to be long!’ So here’s a letter. (That sounds like I’m only writing to make her happy. No.)

Irelin says I should update you on how things are here. The short version: forest still weird, map still gone. (No.)

Heard you killed some dragons and got yourself a Fade house. Good work. (OK. Better.)

Things are under control in Arlathan. It’s been rough without you sometimes, because all kinds of dormant artefacts have woken up, and there are all kinds of wards and codes we need to decipher and we don’t have our best translator anymore. (That sounds like I’m blaming them for going to save the world. No.)

There aren’t many with a way with languages like yours. We’re fine, but we notice that you’re not here. (This makes it sound like you only want them around because they’re useful. Worse.)

I miss having you around, all right? I swear the new Jumpers get more reckless every day. I liked having someone I could rely on. Someone patient and steady. At least, I thought you were until you went running off to get yourself killed

Look, it was never really about the damn map. Everything was going wrong, and I thought we were about to lose a bunch of our people. I didn’t want you to be one of them. I didn’t want my friend to be one of them. And when you didn’t listen and went charging into danger – I thought you were gone. And, yeah, I was mad.

I don’t know. It was easier to be angry about the map than admit I was scared of losing my friend. (Ugh. But true.)

You’ve been avoiding me a lot since you came back. I get it. I shouted a lot. Maybe I left you feeling like I didn’t want you as a Veil Jumper, or a friend. Can’t help but think that maybe… maybe you left with those dwarves to see if I’d try to stop you. If I’d ask you to stay.

Sorry.

If it wasn’t clear: I’ll always want you as one of us, if we don’t get eaten by dragons before this is over. What happened with the map was a mess, but I guess I’m glad it happened, because from what I can tell… you’re doing well out there. You seem happier than anyone fighting a pair of gods has a right to be. Bellara says Someone told me you’re dating the tall human with all the bones. Good for you. I would too, he’s sweet.

You deserve to give yourself something. You were never any good at that.

Anyway. Next time you come around… let’s make soup and go sit out on the wall and spot birds. Like old times.

Dareth shiral, lethallen.

(Hold on. How the fuck do you get a letter to a Fade house?)