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enkays-den · 3 months ago

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Skizz Week 2, Day 6: Pet/Pal

@skizzlemanweek

1k, mentions of dubious use of armadillos in sportsball, Skizz, Tango, Zedaph, Etho

“Skizz! What are you doing around these parts?” Tango jumped down from his balcony, alighting softly beside his friend.

“First off dude, I live like, twenty seconds away. Second, Etho summoned me! And when the king summons, I come a-runnin’!”

“That’s true, he’s a rare sight,” Tango agreed. “I was certain that with Iskall starting his vault expeditions, we wouldn’t be seeing him for another couple weeks.”

A pink firework exploded a couple hundred feet away, drawing their attention.

“Who’s pink? Stress?” Tango asked.

“No, can’t be, she would have sent me a giant ‘ELLO’ at some point,” Skizz said, squinting.

Another burst of pink, a little closer this time.

“Catch me, fellas!” A man’s voice called.

“Oh that’s Zed for sure,” Tango said, stepping out of the way.

Skizz saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and stepped so he was in front of Tango, his back facing the smaller man. “Where are you going? You’re gonna help me catch him!”

“Me?!” Tango yelped, trying to escape Skizz’s radius. “What am I gonna do, you’re like half a foot taller than me!” Zedaph was closing in, a speeding blond bullet in the air.

“Help me brace!” Skizz’s voice was filled with that seemingly oblivious optimism. He was holding his arms out to Zed’s rapidly approaching form.

“We’re gonna die,” Tango deadpanned, accepting his fate and putting his hands on Skizz’s shoulder, unsure of how to “brace” for this.

Zed crashed into Skizz’s open arms, his weight sending Skizz, Zed, and Tango screaming and tumbling backwards into the (moderately) soft grass. Eventually, the screams turned into laughter as the three men detangled themselves.

“Gon’ feel that in the morning,” Zed groaned, grinning and stretching his back.

“You’re such a buttface,” Tango accused. “Why can’t you just land?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Zed asked mischievously.

Skizz gave the Brit a quick hug. “Good to see you, man. Etho message you too?”

“Yeah, wonder what he wants?”

“Same, I thought it was just postal biz, but apparently not,” Tango said, pushing himself to his feet.

“Maybe he just messaged everyone that’s here right now,” Zed suggested.

“Well now I don’t feel special, Zeddle Bop, thanks!” Skizz pouted like a child, earning teasing pokes from his friends.

Skizz ran over to Etho’s gorgeous Asian-style base and knocked on his door frame. “E! Your poss-e is here!”

“Just a sec, Skizz!” Etho’s voice echoed from inside his house.

A few seconds later, Etho jumped from the story above, landing almost silently on the wood flooring. “Hi guys,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey Eefers,” Tango said. “What’s so important you called us goobers over?”

“It’s over in this room over here, follow me.”

The four of them walked to a room in Etho’s basement, and Tango gasped.

In a large caged pen filled with sand (the sand was directly on the floor???) were about two dozen armadillos, either wandering the perimeter of their enclosure or lounging on a flat piece of sandstone.

“Oh. My. Gosh! There’s so many!” Tango squeaked.

“Can I pick one up?” Zed asked eagerly.

“Sure, just be gentle when you approach them, otherwise they’ll roll into a ball.”

“Where did you get so many of these guys?” Skizz asked as Tango and Zed approached the pen.

“Ren wanted me to get a whole bunch for his soccer game,” Etho said.

“Is he really going to kick these little guys around?” Skizz asked, concerned.

“Not technically kicking,” Etho defended. “It’s wind charges only, they just roll, and they don’t get hit. Cub already did lots of testing, and they seem fine as long as they aren’t constantly rolling for more than like, five minutes. I’m looking to breed a lot more of these guys and maybe do some revamps of the rules to make rounds shorter.”

“PETA’s gonna roll in and bust this whole operation open,” Skizz joked.

Etho chuckled. “Maybe, but I’m not the one who made the game, that’s all Ren.”

“Classic Etho, always placing the blame on someone else,” Tango quipped, holding a baby armadillo the size of a grapefruit in his hands. “These guys are sooooo cute!”

“Okay, now I wanna grab one of these goobers,” Skizz said. “Move over!”

He eyed a particularly large armadillo on the sandstone slab and scooped it up. Its armor was almost like a hard basketball. The armadillo blinked its tiny black eyes at him and let out a little squawk.”

“Uh oh,” Etho said, grabbing the animal from Skizz’s hands. “Be right back!” He ran out of the room, leaving behind three very confused hermits.

“I… didn’t even know they could make noises, let alone sound like a doggy toy,” Skizz said, laughing.

“Truly nature’s most majestic of creatures,” Zed said wisely, feeding an armadillo a little piece of apple from a bowl Etho had on the floor.

“They’re apparently also ticking time bombs,” Tango noted, turning over the armadillo in his hands to examine the furry belly. “Maybe they’re vicious.”

“This little lad for sure is destroying this apple slice,” Zed said seriously.

Etho returned, panting a little. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Sometimes when one of them starts screaming, it sets the whole group off.”

“Jeez, one heck of an alarm system,” Skizz said.

“Doc can use it the next time someone messes with his redstone,” Tango deadpanned.

“Did the person who did that ever come forward?” Etho asked, scratching under his mask.

“They apologized, anonymously,” Zed said.

“If it even was just one person,” Tango countered.

“My diamonds are still on Cub,” Zed said, shrugging. By this point, he’d fully climbed into the pen and had three armadillos on his lap looking for fruit.

“Those things are glued to you, man,” Skizz said

Tango gasped, turning to his friend. “Zed, Aerial Armadillo Service!”

Skizz burst out into giggles

Etho laughed. “Oh no,” he said between breaths.

“Etho, Skizz, you wanna help dangle these dudes?” Zed asked.

The two of them exchanged a silent look. Etho’s eyes crinkled with barely held back mirth. Skizz grinned.

“You know it, Bop.”

#skizz week 2 #skizzleman #zedaph #tangotek #etho #ethoslab #hermitcraft #fanfiction #writing prompt #one shot #enkay writes #hermitblr #tbh this one was a phone in

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brandwhorestarscream · 1 month ago

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Megatronus talking to Megatron fic please?

Hell yeah lets go. Mostly just transcribed from my rambling in discord, but nyeh

Consider: the cogs they've been given influence their host a bit. Like how, donated organs sometimes have "memories" from their old bodies that they had before. Giving the host physical sensations and habits they didn't have before (it's a real thing, look it up)

We know that Liege Maximo wasn't responsible for orchestrating Solus's death in this universe, but it's still very possible he's still got a very dark and twisted streak inside him. What if D-16's sudden, violent resolve to kill Sentinel came from Liege Maximo? He 100000% wants Sentinel dead because he's a traitor and doesn't deserve to live, and his influence still on his cog combined with D-16's righteous anger came together into the drive to rip that mech apart, with his bare hands.

What I'm getting at is, the cogs have "memory" and influence, to a point. Optimus got Prima's cog, so naturally he stepped into a more rigid leadership position that was staunchly against purposefully extinguishing sparks. So, when D-16 takes Megatronus Prime's cog from Sentinel's chest, he gets hit with a blast of Presence from the God of War himself, and already riled up and angry he kinda. Spirals out of control.

The Spirit of War drives him to fight, protect, destroy. Raze that evil mech's influence to the ground so not a single shred of him remains. Unless his presence is completely annihilated, there's a chance it could seep into the cracks and take up root again, and slowly sink it's insidious fingers into their people once more. He cannot allow that!

Fast forward to that night and newly christened Megatron is still angry, angry, angry… until he falls asleep and his processor can get a much-needed rest and defrag. He dreams about- about Orion, about… the surface, about Sentinel, about everything. He sees Sentinel taking Orion away, sees Orion bloodied and lifeless falling into a pit of despair. He sees himself, out of his body, trying to save him but he can't. He sees his best friend looking at him in sadness and disgust and, finally, feels the sadness and misery he'd been stubbornly choking down suddenly force it's way into his throat.

...Is he awake? Is he asleep? It hits him so intensely he can't tell, and just. Plops down on the ground, arms wrapping around himself and beginning to sob with all the force of his broken spark. It's not fair. Everything… everything has changed, he's lost everything and everyone and- and he's still angry! Why does he feel like this? How does he make it stop? He doesn't want to be angry anymore, he doesn't want… whatever this is that he can feel slowly creeping toward him. This isn't over. Something bad is coming. He doesn't want this, he doesn't want this, he doesn't want this-!

He about jumps out of his plating when someone suddenly touches his helm, and nearly falls over when he looks up and finds a hulking, huge mech had settled down next to him. Thrice his size, at least, and before, that wouldn't have been strange. Expected, even. But now he has his cog, his alt mode, he's much bigger now. Even so, he feels puny in this mech's shadow, but his size alone isn't the surprising part.

Painted purple and black with a face that Megatron knows extremely well. He rubs his optics and shakes his helm, but he's still there. His vocalizer squeaks when he utters the name, "M- Muh-! Megatronus Prime?!"

He's definitely still dreaming. He has to be. But- But everything feels so grounded and lucid and real- but-

Megatronus Prime chuckles softly. "Sorry to frighten you, little one," he lats the ground next to him. "Sit with me?"

"I- um," he blinks. "Y-Yes sir?"

Megatron has no idea what to say. He sits a respectful distance away, hugging his knees and just o.o staring at him shellshocked the whole time. It- It has to be a dream but it feels real. Is… Is Megatronus actually here with him? Surely he can't be, but…

The Prime waves his servo out in front of them, and warm, gently burning orange fire materializes from nowhere. It floats in a ball before them, lighting the dark, shadowy night. Megatron can feel the heat on his cheeks, and the sensation is too real to be anything but.

"You… y-you're really here-!" He gasps and wipes clumsily at his still-wet face. "Oh- Oh my Primes, you're really-" Promptly slaps a servo over his mouth, optics wide. "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to swear, I know we shouldn't use the Primes names in vain I just- y-you're here and- and-"

Megatronus laughs and shakes his helm fondly, reaching over to gently pat his helm. "Peace, youngling, peace. I take no offense." Prima, on the other hand… ooh, how he hated hearing their children swear. It amused the god of war, more than anything. He gave the little silver mech a thoughtful once over. "You have my cog." It's not a question.

Megatron flinches and brings both servos to to his chest. "I- I'm sorry!" He means it too, hanging his helm and looking ashamed. "I- I was just- he took it, he killed you and he took and I- I couldn't just let him keep it," it was impulsive, he would admit, swapping it for the cog already in his own chassis. His voice lowers to a shameful whisper. "D'you… w-want it back?" He doesn't want to go back to being cogless, but…

Luckily, Megatronus shakes his helm. "No, no, keep it. I've no use for it anymore. Heh," a humorless sound that could almost pass as a sarcastic laugh. "Though, I should ask. Wouldn't you rather have yours?"

"What do you mean?"

He holds out one huge servo, palm flat, and an image flickers to life, misty and glowing blue similar to the visions Alpha Trion had shown them. It's simple this time, just a standard transformation cog. But… Megatron chokes. "You mean-?! Th-This one is-?"

"Yours," the Prime nods. "We keep track. We've kept track of every cog he stole, and whom it belongs to. If you want yours, I'll grant it to you."

He's stunned silent, mouth hanging open and entranced by the vision. He… he could have it back? He'd come to accept that his cog was gone, that that monster had molested his newborn body and plucked it right from his chassis, that a part of him had been stolen and desecrated before he even opened his optics for the first time. A hurt that could never heal… a wound he'd carry til the day he died.

But now, Megatronus Prime, his greatest hero and idol, is talking to him and offering it back. All he can do is sit there with his jaw slack.

The god of war seems amused, laughing for real this time and reclining back against the solid metal behind him. He reaches out and wraps one arm around the youngling, who squeaks in surprise, and pulls him close against his side. "You don't have to decide now," he promises. "You can keep mine, if you like the way it feels. And if you change your mind someday, that's fine too."

He's not at all expecting the sudden sob that bubbles up from his side, and looks down in surprise. Little namesake suddenly curls against him, shaken by the first positive physical contact he's had in multiple days, beginning to weep with earnest against his hero's side.

"Wh-"

"I'm sorry!" The words burst out of him in a rasping voice heavily laden with sorrow and wet sobs. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so so sorry! I- I didn't mean to, it wasn't supposed to happen like that, I didn't wanna hurt him, I- I didn't mean to I was just so mad-"

This… really isn't Megatronus's forte. He doesn't know what to say, so opts not to say much at all, instead gently draping his arm around the young, miserable bot and just letting him huddle beneath him, weeping brokenly.

"I know, little one… I know. It's alright-"

"It's NOT alright!" He wails. "Nothing is alright! I wanna go home but I don't have a home anymore, and- and Orion hates me and everyone probably hates me and- and I killed my best friend and I took your cog without asking and," he takes a great, heaving, wheezing invent. "And I'm just like Sentinel!"

Megatronus goes from awkward to actively panicking in about 2 seconds. Ok, tears he can deal with. Let them cry it out and release all the stress and they'll be fine afterwards. That's how it goes. But… super deep seated self doubt and worry you've turned into the monster you just defeated? That's- That's really not something he knows how to deal with. Megatronus Prime does not know how to deal with kids.

"...wait, no-" he gives the little one a gentle shake. "No, no, that isn't true-" he continued to wail and cry like the world is ending, like his spark really has shattered into pieces. "You're not- you didn't intend to hurt your friend and wouldn't have if it was up to you, and--forgive me, Mother--Sentinel needed to be dealt with. "You've nothing in common with that mech aside from the cog you both hosted in your chest-"

That just seems to make him cry harder, and Megatronus flounders. What to do, what to do?! Um, uh-

"Oh!" He reaches up with both hands, undoing clasps and deactivating invisible magnets. "Here! Do you want to try on my mask?"

That gets him. Megatron raises his helm suddenly, still hiccupping, tears still streaming down his cheeks. His mouth is still trembling, but he's no longer wailing.

"Wh-" he whimpers softly. "What….?"

Megatronus undoes the last clasp and removes his giant purple mask, lowering it slowly and giving the little silver mech a somewhat sheepish look, red optics peering over the rim. "Do you… want to try it on?"

Megatron blinks twice, then thrice. "That's a mask?"

The god of war nods, lowering it further. He has an unexpectedly pretty, almost delicate face. "My Solus made it for me," he admits, sounding almost shy. "To tell the truth, I… ahem, I get… rather anxious when people see my face. Solus made this for me, quite a long time ago." it's huge when he reaches to offer it to Megatron, nearly the size and width of a small table.

Megatron's hands are still shaking as it's laid across his lap, pinning him to the ground end eliciting an "oof!" of surprise. It's heavy! It weighs more than the miners did when they were cogless! Probably still weighs more than some of them! He runs his hands over the smooth, tempered metal, awed by its quality and sheer size.

"You wear this all the time?" He asks, starstruck.

"Indeed. I never take it off, in fact." this was a special occasion, though.

"I… we thought this was your face," Megatron admits, nearly sheepish. He reaches up to touch his chassis, where the likeness of the god's mask is still etched painfully into the metal there, thanks to Sentinel. He steals a glance up at Megatronus, unable to quite believe what he's seeing. "Everything in the datafiles and history stuff, you're always wearing it. We- We thought you didn't have a mouth!"

Megatronus smiles at him, amused, and for the first time in days Megatron manages to smile, too.

"…can I really, uh…?"

The god of war snaps his fingers and the mask shrinks obediently, til it's just the right size. "Go ahead, youngling."

He exhales nervously and slips it on, fumbling unsurely with the clasps. It smells like sulfur and high quality energon, and something about it makes his whole body prickle.

After he's got it on, he looks up at Megatronus shyly, fidgeting. The world looks different from in here: his peripheral vision is cut off, and everything is framed with the shape of the optical slits. "Well…?" He wrings his servos nervously. "How do I look…?"

"…heh," Megatronus lays one servo on his helm, jostling him gently. "Like a little champion of war." He may be called Megatron now but he's still a child at spark, right now. He's painfully young, and Megatronus Prime is worried for him.

When Megatron wishes he had a mirror so he could see what he looks like with the mask on, and Megatronus is all too glad to grant that wish. It's good to see him less emotionally devastated, but soon after the little silver mechling settles back against his side. "I don't… wanna go to war," he admits forlornly, hugging his knees. "I… I wanna go home. I don't want a war."

"That means you're smart," Megatronus tells him seriously, which earns him a confused look. "I preside over war and reap power from it, but only a fool hopes for war. War incurs heavy loss no matter who you are, and those who actively seek it seek their own destruction in turn. Tis my duty to govern that domain and stand as a guardian over those who must do battle." The Patron Deity of Warriors, Megatron recalls easily. The Guardian Prime of all who take up arms.

If the god of war himself encourages not to seek his domain, it's probably best to listen, no? He sags helplessly against the divine mech's side, feeling helpless.

"You said you want to go home?" Megatronus asks, and Megatron nods wordlessly. "Then… perhaps you should."

"I can't! Orion said- he's a Prime now, and he doesn't want me there, and- and I said I'd never trust another leader again-"

"You trust me, don't you?"

It's plain to see how much the kid idolizes him, and trusts him enough to, at the very least, cry his spark out and air his grievances. That certainly speaks of trust.

"Well- yes but, that's different!" Megatronus Prime isn't just some leader, he's one of the 13! One of the gods! Trusting him is different than trusting some uppity mortal that thinks they're better than everyone else and is willing to suck their lives away for their own benefit! Megatronus Prime isn't like that-

"Do you think your friend Orion is like that?"

"No!" The reflexive leap to defend his friend comes before he can really process it. "No of course not, he's-"

Megatron covers his mouth. Oh. Slag.

"Perhaps," the Prime reaches down and gently removes his mask from Megatron's face, gently lifting his chin with one finger. "A better vow would be to no longer place blind trust in those who lead. Don't deny yourself faith or hope, little one. Both are important in order for you or anyone to have a future."

A future. Right. He sighs, shoulders falling to their lowest point and averting his optics. What future? He's stranded on the treacherous surface with a bunch of bloodthirsty strangers, and if he shows even an ounce of weakness that screechy seeker is going to be jumping for his throat. If not him, then one of the others, surely. He couldn't have any sort of comfortable or trustworthy future with people like that surrounding him. Every friend he's ever had, all of his batchmates, his siblings, his family, they're all back in Iacon. The mecha in the high guard hold no love for him, nor do the ones he's left behind. None of them ever will again. Even Orion, his... his everything, even he surely hates him now.

"Do you truly believe that, little one?"

"Yes! Wouldn't you?! I- I killed him!" Accidentally, and because Orion threw himself in front of his weapon, but still. "Sentinel Prime killed you, don't you hate him?" internally, Dee hates himself for hurting Orion. Surely Orion must hate him as much as he hates him, right?

"Sentinel," Megatronus spits the name in a vengeful rasp. "Murdered me in cold blood, as he did several of my siblings. We're still deciding what to do with him. Orion Pax threw himself in front of your weapon and was caught in the crossfire. You did not seek to murder him, nor did you seek to harm him. Twas an accident, nothing more, and not deserving of hatred. Not the hatred you hold for yourself, nor the hatred you presume he holds for you."

"But..." Megatron shrinks in his shadow, tears beading along the bottom lid of his optics. "But..."

"Hush," the Prime's command is firm but still very gentle. "You want to go home. You don't wish for war. Then I ask you, little one: what must you do to achieve those goals?"

#transformers one #fix it fic #megatron #megatronus prime #tbh obsessed with awkward-but-wise dad Megatronus #the proud and powerful god of war. wielder of divine shields and guardian of the pantheon.#watching this miserable child be consumed by the Spirit of War and realizing he's gotta step in #and in the morning? megatrons gonna get a phone call from his boyfriend and everything will be FINE

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