#trigger character starscream

[wyrm-with-a-why]

Soundwave served so much cunt for this panel holyyyyy

[withoutalice]

ES SPOILERS!!!! (S2 gif set)

S2EP9

[soundcrusher]

How Hot Rod accidentally took over the Decepticons and became Rodimus

Hah, I did it! I finally finished this mess of a story!

And, honestly, it's pretty serious, until the end. Then it becomes somewhat weird.

Either way, @ut-girl666 and @gaybot-showdown, I hope the both of you will love this.

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Hot Rod should have listened to Kup when he told him to stand back and let Optimus deal with Megatron himself. The tank was his former friend turned enemy after all, but did that stop the young speedster from running towards the two and distract Megatron by engaging into a duel with him when the prime as down? No, it didn’t, and in hindsight, it was still a better idea than letting Megatron kill their leader.

Still, Hot Rod should have done something else, because then he wouldn’t be pinned down underneath Megatron. With the warlord’s weight slowly crushing him as if he was nothing more than a bug. And the worst part? There was no-one who could help him. Not with the Decepticons keeping everyone away, because apparently, if the leader is challenged to a duel, it means that no-one is allowed to interrupt. Something Hot Rod found ridiculous, because everyone’s interrupting Optimus and Megatron when they’re fighting together. What makes his fight with the warlord different?

What the frag did he do, when he yelled, “Hey, buckethead! You, me, one on one! Now!” Was that some kind of codeword for ‘I’m-gonna-kill-that-one-myself”? Or did it mean something else? Maybe he should have listened to Kub when he was explaining some of the Decepticons rules and such, but the lesson was rather boring and Hot Rod had better things to do. There was a race… and he wanted to go racing, not learn about ‘Decepticon’s rules of combat 101’.

Either way, he shouldn’t think about what was, but rather how he’s going to get out of this situation without dying or damaging anything. Which is easier said than done, because Megatron had him pinned and was about to dig his digits into Hot Rod’s optics, when the younger mech remembered his flames. And before Megatron could end his live for good, Hot Rod grabbed his opponent’s arm, giving the warlord a defying glare, before letting his frame heat up. Making sure that Megatron couldn’t escape him until his frame set itself on fire. Burning the tankformer and causing him to let go of the speedster.

But before Megatron could recover, let alone counter Hot Rod’s fiery attack, the smaller mech was already grabbing for the blaster laying near them and fired one shot. A shot that went straight through the warlords spark and caused everyone fighting to stop, as the shock of what happened settled in. At least, until a shrill shriek pierced the eery stillness that has spread across the battlefield.

“MEGATRON HAS FALLEN, I, STARSCREAM, AM NOW THE LEADER OF THE DECEPTICONS!” Although, as the flier landed and looked over his ‘new subjects’, none of them paid him any attention. No. All their optics were directed at the trembling mech who ended Megatron and was currently aiming his blaster at any Decepticon trying to come closer to him.

“Stay back! I’m not afraid to shoot again!” Screamed Hot Rod, and much to his surprise, the Decepticons stopped walking closer. Which the young speedster took as his chance to transform and drive off. Although, he didn’t make it far, because the Constructicons quickly transformed into Devastator and simply picked up the, by now, flailing Autobot at Soundwaves command. “Hey! But me down Decepticreep! I’m not a toy car for you to play with!” But the big mech wouldn’t listen and simply held Hot Rot like a misbehaving robo-kitten, while the smaller mech was doing his best to kick at the giants servo, not caring about if he would fall or not.

And while Devastator was making sure Hot Rod wouldn’t escape, Starscream was in a one-sided screaming match with Soundwave. Demanding to know what the cassette player meant when he said that he, Starscream, was not the new leader of the Decepticons, but rather that stupid Autobot with the obnoxious paint job. To which Soundwave simply shook his head, before commanding the Decepticons to retreat back to Austrotrain and return to Cybertron. Together with the kicking and screaming Autobot, who was quickly tossed into the waiting dripple changer and restrained by Hook and Mixmaster, after Devastator disengaged and turned back into the Constructicons.

And after the last Decepticons made it into Astrotrain, the shuttle took off, while the Autobots could do nothing but stare on and wonder what exactly happened that made them take one of their own and ditch the deactivated remains of their former leader. Something one of the Decepticons took a picture off, because seeing Optimus Prime with his optics as wide as saucers and Ultra Magnus with his jaw on the floor was just too good.

Although, the mood was quickly ruined as the remaining Decepticons started to fight amongst each other, because half of them couldn’t believe that an Autobot defeated Megatron and had a claim to the position of leader, while the other half stood behind their rules. Especially Soundwave and Starscream were at each other’s throats and ready to defend their opinions, when Astrotrain informed them that they might not make it to Cybertron if they didn’t lose and ballast. And with Starscream being Starscream, he suggested to throw out those who were already on their best way to the AllSpark. However, before anyone could grab anyone from the injured, Hot Rod decided to speak up.

“You can’t throw them out.” Said the speedster, while his spoiler lowered ever so slightly in discomfort as everyone stared at him. “I mean… yes, our chances are higher if we ‘dispose’ of them, but they’re your comrades. You CAN’T throw them out, just because they’re hurt.”

“Oh, really now? Didn’t you hear Astrotrain? We’re going to die ourselves if we don’t get rid of the useless ones.” Countered Starscream with one of his insufferable smirks, as he walked closer to the bound Autobot with the intend to throw him out first, but he was stopped by Soundwave. Who was glaring at the second in command through his visor. “Observation: Autobot defeated Megaton in a duel. Conclusion: Autobot new leader. Suggestion: Starscream follows orders.”

“As if I would ever take the order of an insufferable Autobot who knows nothing about us and our faction!” Seethed the seeker, but the communications officer did not move from his spot. Rather, he started to slowly push Starscream back, before addressing the rest of the Decepticons, while Hot Rod is left to bonder on what to do next. Kup might have thought him a few things, but never has he prepared him for this kind of situation. And he doubted that anyone from the Autobots would send someone to rescue him.

Not with them having to deal with the mess Megatron’s troops have caused.

Well, at least he didn’t have to help with the repairs. That was one positive thing in all of this, but the situation was still very bad for him. Especially with Soundwave looking his way every time he tried to move a little bit. And then there were the ones Starscream would have thrown out. They kept on staring at him, as if they owed him something or were expecting him to change his mind after all. So, Hot Rod’s only option was waiting and seeing where this was going. Then again, this whole mess could have turned out worse than he ever expected. But, to his surprise, it didn’t.

And after landing on Cybertron, Hot Rod was forced to learn everything he needed to know as the new leader of the Decepticons. Which not only included how to tell apart each of the Seekers, but also things he was sure not even Optimus had to deal with.

Like, making sure that Starscream wouldn’t poison his energon or make sure a certain big lipped mech wouldn’t go on a needless killing spree. Truly, Hot Rod, who was more known by his new name “Rodimus” by now, had his servos full and it often didn’t leave him any time for his own personal live or hobbies. At least Hook took him fishing sometimes and Soundwave always made sure that he was okay. And then there were all the others he slowly managed to befriend. Like Thundercracker and Skywarp. Which didn’t really come as a surprise to him because they were rather pissed at Starscream for trying to throw them out.

Although, there was also those who still liked him, but utterly unsettled Hot Rod. Like the Insecticons. Hot Rod was sure that the only reason they stayed with him was because he also kept them from being discarded like yesterday’s garbage. And then there was the whole situation with that masked mech. Yea, Hot Rod always made a big circle around that one or backtracked entirely whenever he was close.

However, being liked by some Decepticons and having most of the commanders behind him didn’t mean that there weren’t those who still hated the fact that a former Autobot was now leading them. And next to Starscream’s murder attempts, Hot Rod also had to deal with Decepticons walking up to him and challenging him to a duel. Luckily, he never had to take more than one, but it was still tiring. Especially with the peace treaty meetings he had to attend and that seemed to have dragged on for years now.

Speaking of which, he was currently attending one with Soundwave, Starscream and two other mechs he kind of forgot the names of. Although, one was definitely named something with Lock? Honestly, Hot Rod has never met that guy before and frankly, with the way Lock kept on staring at him right now, he was kind of happy about it. How did Megatron deal with him, or all the other weirdly bloodthirsty Cybertronians in his army?

“Hot Rod, what do you think of our propositions?” Asked none other than Optimus Prime, and Hot Rod found himself groaning internally at having to answer him.

“The name’s Rodimus now, Prime, I thought I told you that before.” Said the young leader, as he grabbed the data-pad containing the peace treaty. Although, he was quick to drop it as soon as he saw that his, and in extend his factions suggestions, weren’t accepted into the newest version. “Seriously? You guys didn’t even once think about adding the stuff we worked hard to compile? Do you know how long it took to actually get everyone to work together?!”

Hot Rod knew that looking impatient or angry wasn’t the best look for a leader, but quite frankly? He didn’t give two fucks about what Optimus, nor the other Autobots thought of him. They lost their rights to judge him the second he heard some of them call him a traitor for joining a faction he never intended to lead. “Like, it was already hard to get their respect, and even now I don’t have it fully. So, them opening up to actually give me suggestions on what they want in this is a huge step!”

“I can imagen Hot… Rodimus. But I cannot allow gladiatorial matches to continue, even if they have limitations and fixer rules than before. Let alone pardon Decepticons who committed crimes.” Optimus looked at the young speedster, searching for understanding, but finding none. No, Hot Rod only grew angrier at the prime before him.

“As if Autobots have never committed crimes!” This time it was Starscream who spoke up, and Hot Rod nodded in agreement.

“Also,” started the young leader, as he folded his servos before him and looked at every Autobot. Giving them a look, he learned while playing a game of earth poker against the Stunticons. “Let’s not forget of who the Autobots and Decepticons are mostly made up. You and everyone attending this meeting knows exactly what I mean, Prime. So, I suggest you better rework the treaty with our suggestions in it before you call me again.”

And with that said, Hot Rod stood up and left the meeting together with his entourage. Keeping up the appearance of a confident leader, but the second they were back on their ship and in their meeting room, Hot Rod quickly collapsed into the nearest chair. Whole frame shaking from the anxiety he felt before and during his talk with Optimus. However, there was also a sense of accomplishment because he just talked with Optimus, fragging, Prime as if he was nothing more than a co-worker with whom he had a simple disagreement. That counted as a win, right? Well, at least it felt like a win to Hot Rod.

But his mental victory parade came to a screeching halt, as he remembered that he wasn’t alone. So, Hot Rod quickly sat back up straight and motioned for everyone present to take a seat. And even as the one named Lock remained standing, the young leader insisted on him to take a seat. “Come on, everyone’s sitting. You should sit too.” Said Hot Rod with one of his winning grins, which only grew wider as Lock finally sat down. Only then did he start the small meeting where they discussed the new developments on the peace treaty and how the meeting with Optimus generally went.

Which gave Starscream another great opportunity to insult Hot Rod, because their young leader, despite having lived with the Decepticons for some years now, was still a former Autobot. And while the second in command started to go on a small rant about how the failures of their peace treaty was clearly Hot Rod’s fault, the former Autobot found himself slowly sinking in on himself. He really did mess up, didn’t he?

Yes, he did manage to get a shaky cease fire between the factions, but apparently, he was doing a really bad job with everything else. And Starscream’s words didn’t hep him either. So, to get his second in command’s attention, Hot Rod slammed his servos down on the conference table and stood up as small flames danced over his arms.

“Okay, I get it. You’re not happy with me being the leader, and you’re not happy with the peace treaty taking so long, but we already have a cease fire. A shaky one, yes, but we have it and I swear on my spark, if you do anything to ruin that, I will personally see to it that someone else is getting your position as my second!” Seethed the young leader. And Starscream was quick to answer, as he himself jumped up. Mimicking Hot Rod by slamming his own servos down on the table, just minus the flames.

“You can’t do that! I’M the second in command of this army, you can’t just take my position and give it to someone else! Who would you even give it to?!” Screeched the seeker.

“I don’t know.” Answered Hot Rod honestly, before a playful smirk formed on his lips, as he crossed his arms over his chestplates while cocking an optic ridge. “But I’m sure that I can find someone. There are enough candidates after all. Like Overlord. I bet he would be a WONDERFUL second in command. He’s quite the politician, isn’t he?”

“YOU WOULD GIVE MY POSITION TO THAT BRUTE!?”

“Oh? He isn’t to your liking? Then how about Shockwave, or maybe I should ask Thrust? I bet he would LOVE to have your job.” Chuckled the young leader, before quickly dodging a shot coming from Starscream. “Alright, alright. You convinced me. I’ll give your job to… hmmm… Lock over there!” And with that said, Hot Rod quickly ran out of the meeting room. Transforming as soon as he was in the halls and speeding off towards his favourite spot on the ship, while listening to Starscream’s offended screeches and Soundwave’s attempts to calm the raging seeker.

Although, something that confused Hot Rod greatly was the sound of another Cybertronian coming after him, or better said, following him as if they were his bodyguard. And low and behold, there was the mech named Something-lock following and keeping up with him. He even seemed to get closer with each second, and the fiery speedster found himself unable to shake his pursuer.

So, he gave up trying, even if he didn’t want to lead Something-lock towards the only spot where he could ever get some peace for himself. Which was basically a simple storage room big enough for two mechs to fight in, but Hot Rod decorated to look and be a lot more comfortable.

And as his pursuer walked into the room, the red speedster was already flopping down on a bean bag chair Soundwave got for him. Kicking his pedes up and resting them on the wonky coffee table he made from some empty oil barrels and an old metal door.

“You know, usually when I leave a meeting like that, I DON’T want to be followed. Hasn’t Soundwave told you that?” Asked Hot Rod, as he pulled out a data-pad from his sup-space and started to read some of the reports on it, before throwing it on the coffee table and groaning. He already did enough work today, Soundwave surely can’t expect him to do more.

Although, he was quick to sit up straight as he saw Something-lock pick up the data-pad and read over it himself. Still with that same and stoic expression he had during their attempt at making a peace treaty with the Autobots and their meeting afterwards. Although, Hot Rod soon enough could spot a small smirk on his unwelcomed guest, and it made him vary.

Usually, Decepticons only got those smirks when thinking about attacking someone, or shortly before he had to duck and roll out of harm’s way. But it seemed like Hot Rod’s worries weren’t needed, because Something-lock started to laugh, after finishing the reports.

“You really beat up Overlord with a metal bat?”

“I… ehm… yea?” Okay, Hot Rodd was confused. Like, seriously confused, because he was expecting the other to attack him, not commend on one of his duels. “Granted, the metal bat only came after I already did some damage with my fire, and I didn’t really ‘beat him up’. I just… hit him with it? But don’t ask me how I did it because I have no idea. According to my own calculations, I should have lost. Like, I shouldn’t even be here right now. I should be a smudge on the ground, or worse.”

“But you still did it.” Stated Lock, before sitting down cross legged on the other side of the coffee table. “Not many can say that they managed to survive one of Overlord’s fights, let alone beat him… with a metal bat.”

Hot Rod couldn’t help but groan. He specifically told Soundwave that this duel shouldn’t be as well documented as the others. Not only because he feared of what his challenger would do, if he found out that everyone could read up about their fight, but also because it wasn’t a big deal. There were many he had to duel with, especially at the start of his leadership, and it wasn’t anything special.

And yet, he could see the interest in Lock’s optics and that small, curved up smirk as he commented on how modesty didn’t suit a Decepticon leader. Which in return got another groan from Hot Rod, as he got up from his bean bag and walked over to a big chest. “If I show you the bat, will you drop the issue and leave it be?” He asked, and found himself repressing yet another groan as soon as he saw Lock’s smirk.

“Maybe?

“Well… good enough for me.” Was all the speedster said, as he pulled out a hot pink metal bat littered with small white flowers and the face of a cat with a bow. And dangling from the hilt of the bat by a chain was the exact same bat, only human sized. “Here, this is it, the weapon.”

“… Why is there a cat on it and how did you get that?” Asked Lock, and Hot Rod blinked at him slowly, before shaking his head. “It’s Hello Kitty, a very popular little cat and… I got it from a human child who’s very dear to me. Well, I got the small bat from him as a joke, and Soundwave got me the bigger one, after seeing it.”

“And you decided to keep it, because?”

“Because they were gifts from my friends. I would never throw away something I got from them.” Was all he said, as he put the bat back in its place, before returning to his own. And after that, it was quiet. But not in an uncomfortable way, but rather something aching to what it was like when Hot Rod spend time with his Autobot friends. Which got him thinking about the past years and how much he’s missing out by being here, rather than with them.

Although, even if he went back now, Hot Rod doubts that he would even be welcomed. His former friends and comrades made it clear that they didn’t trust him anymore, and if that’s how it is, then Hot Rod… no… Rodimus didn’t need them.

“By the why, what’s your name? I didn’t really catch it when you showed up.”

“Deadlock.”

“Nice to meet you Deadlock, I’m Rodimus.”

[bones4thecats]

Hello! Thank you for the answering my previous request, it was a lovely read. If you are still open for requests at the time of me sending this, I would like to request some general relationship headcanons for TFP Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave with a Cybertronian S/O. Thank you for your time and I hope you have a good day! - ❤️‍🩹Anon

Relationship Hcs With TFP Decepticons

Characters: Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave and Shockwave Requester: ❤️‍🩹Anon A/N: It's nice to hear from you again, ❤️‍🩹Anon! Thank you for the compliment on your past request! Anyways, I do hope you enjoy this Transformers Prime request. By the way, be on the lookout for titles that are naturally feminine, I couldn't find many gender-neutral ones. P.S: The character labeled in the last bit of hcs is completely fictional. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Transformers Prime Series and Movie ⚠️

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»»————————————-　Megatron　————————————-««

👑 This guy is known for his tyrannical behavior, but he does tone it down when it comes to you being around him. Megatron does care about his S/O dearly in his spark

👑 Megatron started the war because of the unjust ranking in society, but he also started the war because he did not want you to be shoved around like nothing anymore. He may have been a respected gladiator in the Pits of Kaon, but even that title can only go so far in a corrupt society

👑 Over the course of the war, Megatron appointed many to his side, which was called the Decepticons. And throughout the claiming of titles, he dubbed you his right-hand. After all, a Lord is nothing without a Lady

👑 He may not seem like it, but this ruler is fairly good at treating his lover as an equal. Megatron may be a psychopath during his reign over the Decepticons, but he has morals deep down in his spark

👑 Anyways, when the war did begin to go against both sides and Cybertron fell when it came to life, Megatron was the first mech to realize it. And when he saw how the supposed-quick-war was growing longer with every passing cycle, he rushed you off the planet and onto the Nemesis ship first, with him and his most trusted followers joining

👑 Throughout his time out in space locating the mystical Dark Energon, you attempted to stay in direct contact with him the best. Before he ventured to far away, leaving the Nemesis in control of you and the official second-in-command, Starscream

👑 It was painful ruling alongside the egotistical seeker, but when your sparkmate returned, you lunged at the opportunity to rule alongside him instead

👑 While he was under the influence of the dark energon, he attempted to keep you far away from him, which showed just how much he valued your existence. You may have been an amazing fighter, but he could overpower you with ease

👑 Megatron's death was also the thing that caused many to see just how close you two were. When his limp and sparkless frame fell from the Nemesis, through the atmosphere of Earth, and down into the vast and deep ocean below, you cried in agony while multiple Vehicons carried you away. All Autobots, including ones like Ratchet and Arcee, were shocked to see you crying over his death. They suspected that he was an abuser, when it reality, he was better than that... he was your dream mech...

👑 Before your escaped, you were taken away by the Autobots, locked away in your once thriving ship with your medic Knockout and the many Vehicons who stayed loyal. Though, it seemed that the Autobots, especially Optimus, felt pity for you

👑 And while he laid apparently deceased in everyone else's mind, you felt his spark pulsating through your bond. You were shocked when it was announced that Megatron somehow had come back from the dead, but you knew once you looked at him that he wasn't the Megatron you once knew and loved

👑 During the fight, you were one to fight alongside the Predacons, using your advanced fighting skills when in flight-mode to attack easily. After the actual fighting, Predaking looked at you and nodded, making you fly off and to the surface of the hopefully-near thriving Cybertron

"Megatron...?"

"Y/N."

"Megs!"

👑 You lunged forward in a sprint and allowed the large mech to pick you up, spinning you around and hug you as you wept into his now-spikier armor. You then rose your head and relaid it down on his forehead, only looking away from him when you heard the coughs of a certain scrawny-stiletto wearing seeker

👑 Starscream merely backed away scared as you and Megatron glared and the titular mech yelled at him in anger. And before you flew after your lover, who was exiling himself after saying the Decepticons were no longer working and he was turning his title in as a warlord, you smiled at the Autobots and handed Knockout a small tablet with a photograph of the main 'cons, then it changed to one of you, Knockout and Breakdown

👑 The red mech smiled and gave you a small hug before you heard Megatron yell for you, making you transform after sending your goodbyes and flying away. A new life to start with your lover, away from war and away from the blood-soaked regime of your old lives

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»»——————————-　 Starscream 　———————————-««

💫 He first met you while he was controlling a large armada of fellow seekers in the Cybertronian Air Command. You were a new recruit and gained a close bond with the raspy-Decepticon, quickly rising in the ranks before becoming Lieutenant-General of the Air Command

💫 While under the control of Megatron, he showed quite a favoritism to you. And believe me when I say this; Starscream hated how close he acted towards you

💫 It was when Soundwave revealed you and Starscream's spark-bond that Megatron stiffened slightly around you, but did still act fairly cordial. Until his motives began to worsen over the next few hundred years

💫 Many view Starscream as a very manipulative and fearful being, and they're not wrong there. At first, he tried manipulating you, but you eventually grew onto him like a mold

💫 He also has used you like a Cybertronian-Shield multiple times. But, you always were at the ready with a weapon when against the Autobots and their meddlesome human allies

💫 Speaking of him using you as a shield, while he may use you as one when it comes to some battles when he is obviously at a disadvantage, when it comes to his beatings against your leader, you become his defendant. At least when it gets bad enough to be possibly life-threatening

💫 Starscream puts on a macho-mech persona, which he only lets down when his life in in danger or when you are in a major accident. Like when the Autobots were fighting against you and Shockwave while retrieving a Predacon's fossil. He had immediately noticed you were going to have a small concussion

💫 He was the one who went out with Soundwave to defend you, he could care less about Shockwave's spark. He needed you alive, not him.

💫 You guys are one of the cutest duos on the Nemesis. Whenever a Vehicon walks by you two speaking with a smile lodged on both of your faces, they just look at one another and chuckle

💫 It's your gentle-nature that makes Starscream feel unworthy of having you around. He views himself as inferior, and this only grows when he serves under Megatron. The larger mech makes him feel completely worthless, especially by comparing him to others, specifically Shockwave and Soundwave

💫 Unlike Starscream, you helped fight against Unicron when he possessed Megatron. You helped Shockwave gather his three Predacons to send them off, before going off to use your flight to your advantage before leaving to find Starscream

💫 He angered you slightly when he tried convincing Megatron to take over Cybertron again, and after he flew off, you sent him a comm saying you hoped he lived a fulfilling rest of his life. He just chuckled and wished you and Starscream a good future, making you smile and look at your spark-mate

💫 Smiling at the Autobots nervously, Starscream transformed and yelled for you to follow suit. You sighed and threw a vile of finished synthetic-energon at Ratchet, making him gasp and chuckle as you winked and flew off. What an exit... one worthy of his old lab partner and good friend

💫 As Starscream chanted about being the new leader of the Decepticons, you heard the Predacons approach and stared wide-eyed as they glared at Starscream but not you... damn you were always favored more than him🤣

"Y/N...? Why are they glaring at me so much...?"

"Pretty sure they wanna eat you. You might wanna start running, Hon'."

💫 You just looked at the three mechs and told them to go easy on him, and they just huffed before nodding and chasing him. Leaving a smiling Cybertronian behind

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»»——————————-　 Soundwave 　———————————-««

🔊 Ah, the loving silent mech himself.

🔊 He, unlike others, did not meet you before the war began. Instead, you were assigned to be his fellow third-in-command, except you were more located outside of the ship and leading attacks than him

🔊 Soundwave is fairly difficult to get to know at first, since he doesn't speak and doesn't show any reaction. Y'know- with the visor-face and all...

🔊 But, when you did get closer with the mech, it was known to all on the Nemesis that you were held in high regard not only to Lord Megatron, but to the third-in-command as well. Not even Starscream dared to lay a servo on you, fear of retaliation from both of the powerful mechs overwhelming him

🔊 Now, if you are smaller than him, he does make sure you stay out of others ways or get jobs that fit the way you are built and can handle. Normally, the smaller the Cybertronian, the thinner amount of weight they can handle

🔊 Though, if you are bigger, he trusts you to handle yourself a lot more. He would watch over you in battle, sending you codes that could help you in defeating the Autobots and retrieving whatever Megatron needed

🔊 Soundwave also is a very busy mech, so most of the time he has work to do. So, in those kinds of situations, he sends his precious minicon, Laserbeak, out to observe you. Ordering him to send a distress single if you were in danger and he couldn't do anything to help

🔊 When he was kidnapped by the Autobots, you were beyond unstable. Throwing items back and forth across your shared room, successfully scaring all that passed and heard you mixture of angry screams and cries of agony

🔊 Him coming back made your mood lighten up, and it caused even Megatron to slightly smile seeing you run up to him and hug him tightly, before cringing at the sight of the Autobot medic, and your old friend, Ratchet, being thrown in cuffs and pushed away to a holding cell

🔊 You stayed right beside him as best as you could, helping out with everything until those wretched humans came around and had a second Ground-Bridge opened, wrapping both you and him in the warp. Before carrying your screaming frame as his struggling one inside

🔊 Soundwave slightly strutted before lunging at the three mortals, unsuccessfully ending them. This made you gasp and stutter in realization... you were stuck in the Shadowzone with no way out of it and no-one except those humans to know where you were

🔊 Falling to your knees, you began to weep as Soundwave kneeled in front of you and held you close. A low tune being played over his speakers

"Will we ever get out of here...?"

"I will stop at nothing to get us out of here, Y/N." Soundwave said, his natural voice running through your audials.

"I love you..."

"And I love you as well."

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»»——————————-　 Shockwave 　———————————-««

🧪 Shockwave and you met in another fairly odd way

🧪 As a very head-strong member of the Cybertronian Sea Special Ops, and holding the rank of a Major, you always kept your mind right on the target. And when you were sent in by your General, Preon, to observe a supposed operation of a revolution against the Council

🧪 You disguised yourself with a device modeled by one of the engineers, and when you came into contact with the one-eyed mech, you were enamored. And you couldn't lie, hearing Megatron's speech of freedom from the damaging oppression laid stuck in your head

🧪 Over time, you began to use your Black Ops skills to escape detection and help Shockwave gain different objects he needed for his experiments. And when you revealed your treachery to the Cybertronian Council, he felt a pang in his spark that was unfamiliar

🧪 While first deeming it illogical, Shockwave did enjoy being in a close relationship with you. You were highly skilled in battle and in everything scientific

🧪 Shockwave is a very distant mech because of his work. He serves the Decepticon cause very well, to the point where many say he comes in a dual battle against Soundwave's loyalty to the cause

🧪 Despite the complaints of Megatron, you stayed on Cybertron, and got damaged when fighting against Arcee and Cliffjumper. And even he had to admit, you grew on him a lot faster than he initially believed. The cyclopian-mech did also prove to be better at being a doctor than he or you thought

🧪 Shockwave does care about you in a unique way. While he doesn't show it outright like other Cybertronians, he does prove how much he cares about you with simple methods. He does three main things; he is extremely honest, sharing his opinions on all matters, Shockwave also trusts you with tasks he wouldn't trust anyone else with, such as caring for the Predacons while he is outside gathering more fossils, and he loves to show his loyalty. He could care less about everyone else, you are his top-priority when it comes to dangerous situations

🧪 If you ever had doubts of your bond, he immediately addresses it. He may be working while speaking, but he does show his devotion to you first

"Shockwave... do I... mean anything to you...?"

"That's one of the most illogical things I have ever heard." Shockwave replied. "If I saw no use in having a relationship with you, I would never had proposed our spark-bond coming to light. I don't ever want to hear about you doubting yourself, Y/N. Understood?"

🧪 He's not the most ideal mech to be bonded to for life, but he isn't the worst

[weenwrites]

What if some of the TFP Decepticons (let’s say Soundwave, Starscream, Dreadwing) were keeping a secret romance with a human behind Megatron’s back? What will happen when Megatron inevitably finds out about it? (HCs please)

Secret Relationships

Summary - Secret relationships with giant robots stuck in a war can remain secret for only oh so long... Characters - Soundwave, Starscream, Dreadwing Content - Fluff, Angst Category - Headcanons Trigger Warnings - Character Death

✎ A/N: Thank you for the request! I had a lot of fun writing these!

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Soundwave

No one knows how exactly Soundwave ever fell in love with a human, let alone the reason why he kept it a secret, but if he was willing to go this far for you, then it means that you are—without a doubt—special to him (but what he sees in you is what makes everyone else aboard the Nemesis curious, once the secret's out of course).

The moment before the two of you began officially dating, they made it clear that you must keep the relationship a secret, and as such, this may not be the best or happiest relationship. Meetings must be secret and planned in advance, and he's more often than not kept aboard the Nemesis for work, meaning that it's a rare treat to even see him.

But they try their best to be a good partner. He frequently sends you gifts, and most of the time spent together is over texts, so it's kind of like a long-distance relationship. But whenever the two of you have a moment you can spend together in person, he enjoys going sightseeing. But he has to be careful about how frequently he uses groundbridges, because every destination is most likely recorded and kept on a datalog that he can't easily erase without arousing some suspicion.

The two of you have most likely spoken about the war before, and whether you decided to pop a question about leaving the decepticons is up to you. But he comes to learn that being around you makes them realize just how exhausting the war is. It never used to feel this draining. It never used to take such a massive toll on him. It never used to feel so... Hopeless. It's depressing, honestly, which makes him look forward to the little moments of peace he experiences whenever he sees you.

But those moments didn't last as long as he would've liked. They didn't know who may have done it, or how it happened, but when Megatron requested to meet with them, they never expected to learn that he would find out about you. Megatron forced them to explain themselves and to tell him all about you. But luckily he had prepared for this eventuality in advance, despite how depressing it is.

The two of you had talked about what would happen in the event that your relationship was discovered, and you both came up with 2 plans.

1. Fake your death. Say that Megatron found out about you, but he doesn't know your real name, where you lived, or any important information about you in general. Soundwave would risk giving him false information and leading him to kill someone else instead. Unfortunately in this eventuality, it will mean that the two of you can never see one another again, unless you both want to risk your lives again.

2. Bring you to the Autobots and entrust them to protect you. Let's say that in this eventuality, Megatron knows who you are, where you live, etc.. And depending on whether he's taken the initiative and taken you aboard the Nemesis, or still plans on taking you aboard, this plan has varying degrees of success. Ideally, Soundwave would contact the Autobots, requesting to meet, and he would bring you to the rendezvous coordinates and pass you off to them. It would be hard to make this appear as if the Autobots randomly showed up and stole you away, so once again, the chances are that you'll most likely never see eachother again, but in this case he's at a significantly bigger risk of dying.

But after some deep, deep thinking, he came up with a third. Leave the Decepticons. He loves you more than he can ever express, he loves you enough to even consider this option, but that doesn't make it any easier. He's dedicated a good portion of his life to the Decepticon cause, he's witnessed the rise of the cause, the loss that it brought, and the fall of Cybertron, but he still remained loyal to Megatron. But it all changed when he met you. He doesn't understand how or why he ever let you get as close as you did, but he wouldn't even dare to change a thing. It's just a shame that he can't chose this option now.

After he knows that lazerbeak has brought you to the autobots safely—after he finds a clawed hand digging into his plating and pinning him down, the pressure increasing ever so slightly and threatening to crush his throat—after shards of his visor fall to the floor, and there, he comes face to face with Megatron who glares down at him with nothing but disgust and malice—even now, he could look back on all that he's gone through with you to where he's found himself now, and his only regret is that he didn't have enough time for you. No matter the outcome, they're prepared to face whatever comes for them.

Starscream

How the two of you met and let alone even became a couple is a story that not a single soul will ever know, but honestly given the situation the two of you are in, you'd both most likely think it's for the best.

Out of everyone else on the Nemesis, he knows well what will happen in the event that Megatron finds out about you, and he knows that the fallout of it all won't bode well for either of you. He's had nightmares about what would happen, and the worst one was where he was forced to kill you or else Megatron was going to do worse. He's rarely had that dream, but every time it's never failed to leave him worse than a shaking mess.

He understands that this isn't the easiest relationship to be in, and he feels guilty that all he can offer you are sparse gifts and comforting words through text rather than in person. So he tries his hardest to make what little time he does spend with you, the best days of your life.

It's hard to get resources to set up little picnics, or to even get you a wrapped gift, and it's even harder to hide it from the other decepticons, but he tries anyway for your sake despite the high risk it poses to you both. And some cons begin to notice that he seems rather eager to go outside for a flight, much more than he used to, so some begin to suspect that he may be up to something.

At times you even go weeks without hearing anything from him because it's too risky to send you even a single text. But every time this happens, he tries his best to make it up to you when he gets back to you. Yet no matter how many times you assure him that you forgive him with the most sincere look you can muster, that does nothing to silence the part of him that thinks: it won't be long until he'll hear you say those words for the last time.

He's grateful for your forgiveness each and every time, yet all good things will come to pass no matter how much he'd try to stop it. He just hopes that this ends with no blood or energon spilt, and that you'd walk away without so much as a measly scratch, but since when was Starscream ever that lucky?

One day, someone found out about you. He doesn't know who or how, but he'd personally hunt them down and damn them to the pits of Kaon if he was given even so much as just their name, but much to his misfortune, he's denied that possibility as he's forced to flee from the Nemesis and reach you before the other decepticons do.

Knowing you better than anyone, he's able to accurately guess where you might be that day, and with little time to spare he scoops you up and blasts off as he tries to communicate the gist of the situation in as little words as possible as he tries to avoid fleets of vehicons that have been sent after the two of you.

He can't keep running away forever, primarily because of your sake. You have a life of your own to live, and he'd rather throw himself into an active war zone than ruin your life. He hates having to do this, but if has to contract the autobots in order to keep you safe, then so be it. He sends a message under the guise that he's taken you hostage and demands for them to meet him at a set of specific coordinates, and if everything goes according to his half-baked plan, then you'll be safe.

But what about him, you ask? Starscream is visibly hesitant to answer, and even when he responds he doesn't truly answer your question. He simply assures you that the autobots will keep you safe because his first and foremost priority here is your own safety and welbeing. You may not see or hear from him for a while, but he'll be fine! He'll figure something out, you can count on his word for it.

Dreadwing

He hardly leaves the Nemesis unless he's dispatched for a mission, so it's very difficult for him to find any time to spend around you in person. Sure, he has free range of the Nemesis and he can leave and fly as he pleases, but the more he does this, the more suspicious it will look, so unfortunately for your sake and his, he has to keep your meetings in person few and far between.

But he makes it up to you in an abundance of text messages. Each message he sends you is long, eloquent, and teeming with his admiration for you, it's like a love letter of sorts, and each is more charming and sweet than the last. And despite how he may seem, he can be quite the conversationalist given the right topic, and he keeps rather entertaining conversations going between the two of you, and they more often than not last very late into the night.

He can be quite the romantic gentleman, and at times his words are so poetic (and maybe a little cheesy) that it might lead you to think that he seeks his inspiration from a beautiful blend of old, romantic cybertronian works and human love stories (or maybe it's from those cheesy romance movies that play in the drive-in theaters).

His favorite memory of the two of you together was when he took you out to stargaze. You were both talking about your ideal futures, and you had started, making sure to emphasize that you wanted him to be part of it for sure one day, no matter what happens. The moment was sweet, and despite however unlikely it was that the two of you would ever be able to spend your days together without any fear, he promised that one day he would be able to devote himself to you in the way he wishes he could, that he would be with you for eternity.

But eternity is never truly eternal. In an ever changing and evolving world where even the deepest secrets eventually come to light, that dream shriveled up and died the moment he had been summoned before Megatron to speak about his little "human pet" he's kept on the sidelines for so long now.

Though his lord's disdain and immeasurable disappointment was meant to shame him into correcting his ways and "disposing" of distractions like you as Megatron suggested if he were to regain his honor, he found himself far more concerned with your own safety. You're far more vulnerable than he is, and though the price he must pay for your safety is tantamount to sacrificing his own life, then so be it. He chose you, and now he is willing to pay any price and bear any burden that comes with it.

Though he has to break the sound barrier in order to do it, he manages to reach you in time and deliver you to safety. He quickly explains that he's informed the autobots of your situation and that you will be safe under their careful watch while he goes to face Megatron alone. But unfortunately no matter how many times you persuade him to come with you, even if Optimus was there to agree with you and help advocate your point, Dreadwing can't bring himself to do it.

Betraying the decepticon cause may be one thing, but to forget it all and run away with you is something he doesn't believe he can act upon--he promises that it's not that he doesn't love you, it's that he has a very complicated relationship with the cause now, and this is his way of properly dealing with it. Honor is a very important thing to him, you know this as well as he does, and this is something he must confront head-on, even if the chances of his survival are slim. No conniving plans, no tricks, no deceit, it is just him and Megatron.

And eventually, as he finds himself fading in and out of consciousness, overwhelming shame floods him. Not only has he betrayed the Decepticons, but he's betrayed his promise of an eternity with you. Even as he sees a blade slowly rise above his head, poised to strike at any second, all he can really think of is how he wishes he could plead for your forgiveness and do whatever he could to earn your love and trust again.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Day 31 - Halloween

Monster Fucking, Ghost!Papa Emeritus III x Plus Size!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 14.2k.

Warnings: Teratophilia/monster fucking; graphic depictions of blood; graphic depictions of death; graphic depictions of beheading; detailed grief; major character death; death of a loved one; haunting; public sex; teasing; fingering; vaginal fingering; not actual dubcon, but dubcon elements (a character’s hand gets grabbed and squeezed during a scene, but the character has no idea what’s going on); groping; nipple play; public cunnilingus; squirting; hurt/comfort; partner worship; praise kink; vaginal sex; piv; possessive Terzo; implied depression;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals @deetz-ghuleh @onlyhereforghost @zombiesnips-blog @saturnhas82moons @starscream-squarepants

Author's Note: Hello, lovely!

I just wanted to take this time to thank you profusely for your support every day this entire month. It has honestly meant the world to me that you're taking the time out of your day and enjoying my content.

I wanted to give an extra shout-out and super thanks to @da-rulah for not only beta reading a bunch of my fics and making sure you could understand my droning, but also giving me inspiration when I needed it and helping me workshop ideas on days when the list just wasn't working out for me.

Also major thank you to @copias-sewer-rat and @sodoswitchimage for constantly being in my replies and reblogging the fics and just generally being gorgeous people. I appreciate you two so much for consistently hyping up the fics.

One final thing before I let you enjoy this final piece, I just wanted to double check that you've read the trigger warnings and are comfortable enough to proceed. This is dark fiction, horror based with graphic depictions of poor mental health and physical violence, and I want to make sure that you're aware of this before you go ahead. As this is dark fiction, I will be rating it 21+, so I kindly ask you to respect this rating.

Thank you so much,

Mel

🔞 MDNI 🔞

You sat in the dimly lit room, surrounded by the remnants of your shattered world. Your body was cloaked in his clothes, his suit jacket that he’d intended to send down to laundry hanging off your body. His scent lingered on the fibres, comforting you even if it was just momentarily, and his Grucifix hanging from your neck and resting against your soft breasts, a small weighted comfort that you couldn’t liken to his touch - it was too cold.

The suffocating weight of grief consumed you, its tendrils winding around your every thought and breath. The image of his lifeless body, his head cruelly severed from his shoulders by the unforgiving hand of the Ministry’s authority, replayed relentlessly in your mind, tormenting you with its vivid brutality. The look in his lifeless eyes haunting you to this day every time you closed yours. The feeling of Cardinal Copia’s hands on your body, trying to shield you from the horror you were never meant to see. The sound of Imperator’s voice claiming pity for the fallen Papa as she stepped away from his pooling blood so her shoes wouldn’t soil. Her hearty tone of congratulations aimed at her estranged son, while you wept on the floor, reaching out for Terzo’s lifeless body.

With trembling hands, you reached for the Ouija board, the only thing you had left to reach Terzo. The board felt cool and smooth under your fingertips, its letters and numbers arranged in a circle, an eerie portal to the unknown. You had heard the whispers, the warnings about meddling with forces beyond your understanding, but your need to speak to him, to find any sliver of solace in this maelstrom of despair, drowned out the cautious voice within.

The room fell silent as you placed your fingertips on the planchette, your breath caught in your throat and mind silencing itself in order to fully focus on the task at hand. You closed your eyes, trying to summon the fragments of his memory, his voice, his touch, anything that could guide your hand. Your voice, shaky and grief-laden, calling out to him in the abyss. Your soul was crying, begging, screaming for anything from him, nursing a heart that broke further with every second that passed, every second that he didn’t make his presence known to you. Tears began to well in your eyes, the hopelessness overwhelming your senses. “Terzo, please!” You begged to the open air, eyes pointed skywards even though you knew Heaven wasn’t his final destination. “Come back to me.”

A sense of unease crept over you, the air thickening with an unseen presence that seemed to seep through the cracks of your fragile reality. The planchette shuddered under your touch, then began to move, its deliberate motion spelling out words that echoed like whispers from a distant, forbidden realm. The tears you were shedding as the planchette moved froze alongside your blood, as your eyes focussed on the board in front of you, unbelieving it was actually moving.

Your heart quickened as the letters formed a message, disjointed and cryptic, a reflection of a presence that both frightened and thrilled you. The room grew colder, shadows dancing along the walls, and you felt a chilling breath on the nape of your neck, as if unseen eyes were watching you from the darkest corners. Despite the mounting terror, you couldn’t bring yourself to let go, to sever this ethereal connection with the one you loved.

A sudden gust of wind extinguished the lone candle, plunging you into absolute darkness. Panic surged through your veins, but even in this black void, the planchette continued to move, etching out words that seemed to emanate from a place beyond the realm of the living. It was then you’d realised that in your panic, your hands had left the planchette, breaking your physical connection to the board, and yet it was moving now of its own accord; spelling out messages to you that were shrouded in darkness. The darkness hid the messages from you, but the deafening silence made sure you could hear every single scrape of the wood against the board.

The room seemed to pulse with a palpable energy, a presence that surrounded you, enveloping you in a web of otherworldly sensations. You realized, with a dawning sense of dread, that this connection you had forged was not just a bridge to the afterlife, but a gateway to something far more sinister, a realm where the line between the living and the dead blurred into an indistinguishable haze of terror and despair.

“I close the bridge!” You shouted, your voice trembling with fear. “I close the bridge. Goodbye.”

You forced the planchette to the goodbye in the bottom corner and ran for the lights. Your fingers fumbled in the darkness, searching desperately for the light switch. When your trembling hand finally found it, you flicked it on, and the room was once again bathed in an artificial glow. You squinted, your eyes struggling to adjust to the sudden brightness, and as the shadows receded, you realized there was nothing else in the room. Only you, surrounded by empty walls that seemed to close in on you, suffocating your already fragile spirit. But your eyes fell upon the board, the planchette still sat atop “goodbye” as though nothing was wrong - as if your feelings of dread were unfounded and childish, as if it was taunting you.

A sense of profound isolation settled over you, deeper than anything you had ever felt before. The stark emptiness of the room now felt like a reflection of the void within your own being, the absence of your beloved Terzo amplifying the desolation that threatened to engulf you. There was a hollowness that echoed through the air, a palpable absence that seemed to seep into your very bones, reminding you that you were utterly alone in your torment.

A sudden chill swept through the room, the hairs on your arms standing on end, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something lingered in the shadows, something that watched and waited, biding its time. The light, once a source of reassurance, now seemed feeble, unable to dispel the encroaching darkness that threatened to swallow you whole. It was as if the very fabric of reality had shifted, revealing a sinister undercurrent that had always been there, just beyond the reach of your perception.

You realized then, in the harsh glare of the light, that the Ouija board had not brought you solace, but had opened a door to a darkness that threatened to swallow you whole; and as you stood there, surrounded by the emptiness of the room, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had invited something insidious into your life, something that hungered for more than just a fleeting connection with the world of the living.

In the subsequent days, the unsettling occurrences began to multiply, each one chipping away at the fragile facade of your sanity. Objects would shift from their original places, relocating themselves without any logical explanation. A book left on the table would inexplicably appear on the shelf, a photograph moved from the mantle to the bedside table. You knew you hadn’t done it, yet there was no one else in the confines of your home within the Ministry walls.

The air itself seemed to thicken with an otherworldly presence, a feeling that someone, or something, was always lurking just out of sight, watching your every move. Whispers, barely audible at first, began to weave through the stillness of the apartment that didn’t resemble your roommates in the slightest, indistinct murmurs that insinuated themselves into your thoughts, sowing seeds of doubt and fear. You strained to catch the words, but they remained just beyond the reach of comprehension, leaving you with a deep sense of foreboding.

Footsteps echoed through the empty corridors, faint but unmistakable, as if someone were pacing just beyond your line of vision. You would hear them in the dead of night, when sleep eluded you, or in the quiet hours of the morning when the world outside was cloaked in silence. Your heart would race as you threw back the covers, expecting to catch a glimpse of an intruder, but there was never anyone there, only the lingering echo of something that defied rational explanation.

Taps, like a Morse code from an unseen sender, would break the silence, their rhythmic pattern reverberating through the walls. They came at odd hours, disrupting the stillness, a persistent reminder that you were not alone, that there was an entity that defied the boundaries of the physical world, teasing and toying with your senses. You would rush to investigate, your pulse thundering in your ears, only to find empty rooms, devoid of life, devoid of any explanation for the inexplicable phenomena that haunted your waking hours.

As the days bled into nights, and the nights stretched into an endless cycle of unease, you found yourself teetering on the precipice of reason, questioning the very fabric of reality. The once-familiar spaces of your home had become a labyrinth of uncertainty, each creak, each whisper, a reminder that something beyond comprehension had taken root in your life, and it showed no signs of relenting.

One night, as the moon cast its pale glow through the window, you woke with a start, a prickling sensation crawling up your spine. Your gaze fell upon the figure standing at the foot of your bed, shrouded in shadows, yet unmistakably possessing the same contours, the same silhouette as your beloved Terzo. Your heart quickened with a surge of hope and desperation, but as your vision adjusted to the dim light, a sinking dread replaced the initial flicker of relief.

The figure exuded an aura of malevolence, an energy that seemed to twist and contort the familiar features into something twisted and sinister. The shape resembled Terzo, yet its essence felt foreign, an imposter donning the guise of your lost love, a specter that mocked the memory of the one you held dear. There was no distinctive features on his face - simply just a shadow of him watching you as you slept.

A sense of primal fear rooted you to the bed, rendering you incapable of movement, your voice trapped in your throat, stifled by the weight of the moment. You tried to convince yourself that it was a trick of the shadows, a manifestation of your own grief-stricken mind, but the palpable presence before you defied any rational explanation. It was as if a malevolent force had seized upon your deepest longing, your most profound sorrow, to manifest itself in the form of a distorted, twisted version of the one you yearned for.

As the figure lingered there, its gaze boring into your very soul, you sensed a wave of darkness emanating from it, tendrils of a presence that seemed to seep into the fabric of your being, infecting you with a terror that transcended the physical realm. The air grew colder, the room suffused with an oppressive weight that threatened to suffocate you, and you realized with a shudder that this entity, this phantom masquerading as Terzo, harbored intentions far more sinister than mere visitation.

You dared not speak, dared not move, as the figure loomed over you, its form shifting subtly, as if it reveled in your fear. It was a twisted reflection of the one you loved, a corrupted specter that had breached the boundaries of the afterlife, determined to torment you in ways that transcended the limits of mortal comprehension.

Despite every instinct screaming for you to remain still, to avoid provoking the sinister apparition, you couldn’t resist the primal urge to banish the darkness that threatened to consume you. With trembling hands, you fumbled for the switch, and as the room flooded with light, the menacing shadow dissipated like smoke in the wind, leaving behind only the faint echo of its chilling presence. Relief mingled with lingering dread, as you realized that the source of the terror was not just the unknown, but a darkness that dwelled within, a darkness that threatened to devour you whole.

You arrived to work the next morning, throwing yourself down on your chair in the office you shared with the new head of the church. Your body was exhausted beyond belief. Your lack of sleep had caught up with you, manifesting itself as dark circles around your eyes. Cardinal Copia looked at you, faux concern in his mismatched eyes, those very eyes boring into your soul to try and figure out the sickness plaguing you. “Is everything okay, Sorella?” He asked, his voice cautious.

The way you looked at him was deadly: the very epitome of ‘if looks could kill’. His presence was a stark reminder of the night that had claimed Terzo’s life, a cruel twist of fate that elevated this thing to a position that rightfully belonged to your beloved. The clutch of animosity wound tightly around your heart, each beat a reminder of the seething hatred that consumed you, wishing that it was him, not Terzo, who had met a gruesome end.

You forced yourself to endure his presence, the facade of civility barely concealing the churning storm of resentment that raged within. Every word, every gesture from him was a reminder of the irreparable loss, a wound that time could not heal. And as you bore the burden of his company, you couldn’t help but silently wish for a reversal of fates, for the one who was truly deserving of a fate so dire to be the one occupying the space that he callously usurped.

You sought comfort in his arms when you found Terzo’s blood spilling from his neck for no other reason than he was the closest person to you. You remember how long you rotted in your bed for after Terzo’s death. How you would sell your soul to any willing customer if it meant Terzo could come back and hold you in his strong, capable arms just one more time. If it meant you could get a proper goodbye.

The rage you felt when you had finally finished rotting was terrifying. It was if your body had been set ablaze by the very fires of Hell that had taken your beloved from you. For the first time in two weeks, you left your bed and stormed to Imperator’s door, intending on introducing her to the world of pain that she’d thrown you into. Luckily for her, she wasn’t there. But her office was.

The rage that had been simmering within you for so long finally erupted, surging through your veins like a torrential wave. You couldn’t contain the flood of emotions any longer, the injustice, the sorrow, the burning desire for retribution all gathering into an overwhelming, burning, red-hot inferno that propelled you into action. Without a second thought, you stormed into his Imperator’s office, the bitch who had been instrumental in orchestrating the events that led to Terzo’s tragic end.

You overturned her meticulously arranged desk, the clatter of papers and office supplies a symphony of your fury. The framed photographs that adorned her shelves met the same fate, crashing to the floor in a cacophony of shattered glass and splintered frames. You spared nothing in your path, fueled by a primal need to lash out at the source of your suffering, to make them feel even a fraction of the pain that had consumed you since that fateful day.

The very act of desecration, of defiling a space that represented the sanctity of another’s life, only served to stoke the flames of your vengeful rampage. You tore through the room with a fervor that bordered on madness, each item, each trinket, each cherished memory of a life you would never get back meeting a violent end at your hands. In that moment, nothing else mattered but the visceral release of the anguish that had festered within you, and you were determined to leave nothing unscathed in your wake.

Your punishment: removal from your job at the Ministry’s beautiful library and thrown into Copia’s cramped office space as his only personal assistant. As if she couldn’t twist the knife any further.

If Copia was the one who benefited from Terzo’s death, his sick and twisted mother was the one who orchestrated it with his waste-of-space father trailing behind like an ancient, lost child. Sister Imperatrix of the Ministry with the power of a Prime Mover - no - the power of a Papa. Ordering the execution of the only light in your world and the result was now sitting there in ridiculous paints reminiscent of a rat’s skull, in Papal robes that were magically whipped up in the short time between Terzo’s death and Copia’s concave where all cardinals voted for him with an overwhelming majority. You wondered how many strings Imperator had to pull in order to get her pathetic son into the top spot.

“Everything is fine.” You responded, curtly. You didn’t want to give him the time of day, especially now that you were severely sleep deprived.

“Is something bothering you?”

Your eyes that had finally drifted from his face turned back to his, head turning slowly as if to ask him if he was serious. The look on his face told you that he was. “I said I’m fine.”

“That’s no way to speak to the head of our church, is it, Sorella?” A woman’s voice asked from the door. Imperator.

You saw red. “Oh I can get much, much worse.” You stood from your desk, raging eyes fixated on the face you were so desperate to rearrange. “Would you like a demonstration?”

Copia stood, too. He rushed to your side and put his hands on your shoulders. “S-Sorella, please. Calm down.”

You shook him off. “Get the fuck off of me!”

“Ghouls!” Imperator shouted.

“No, Sorella, please! She’s still grieving.” Copia pleaded. “Leave her be.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me!” You shouted. “How dare you stand there barking orders when this was never meant to be your position in the first place!?”

You saw two Ghouls enter from the second room, one of them belonged to Terzo. The bastard even took one of his Ghouls! The other one was new, fresh out of training.

Imperator, “Escort Sorella ____ to-”

Copia interjected. “The library! I… I have a l-list of books for you to get for me, Sorella.” He rummaged through the drawer of his desk frantically looking for a small piece of paper with his list. He handed it to you, almost flinching at your gaze, but his eyes were pleading with you to obey. “Please, Sorella. It’s urgent.”

You snatched the piece of paper out of his hand and sighed sharply. “Fine.” You stormed passed him and headed straight for Imperator, barging passed her and smacking your shoulder against hers. “Move.” You snapped, before slamming Copia’s office door.

The library breathed with an eerie stillness that seemed to whisper of secrets long forgotten. As you stepped through the labyrinth of towering bookshelves, the soft shuffle of your footsteps echoed like a solemn requiem, the silence wrapping around you like a suffocating shroud. A sense of foreboding settled in your bones, each creak of the floorboards beneath your feet a sinister murmur that taunted your senses. The subtle flicker of the overhead lights cast grotesque shadows along the rows of books, distorting the familiar into monstrous silhouettes that seemed to leer at you from the corners of your vision.

Amidst the oppressive silence, a faint murmur began to weave through the air, distant whispers that curled and twisted like wisps of smoke, reaching out from the fringes of your perception. You strained to discern the words, but they remained just beyond the threshold of your understanding, an indistinct sound that hinted at a presence lingering just beyond the realm of the living. Your heart quickened, a drumbeat of mounting apprehension, as you tried to dismiss the inexplicable sounds as mere figments of an overactive imagination. But as you continued to gather the books, the whispering seemed to grow more insistent, more insidious, as if the very walls of the library were conspiring to confound your senses.

A chill slithered down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end as you became acutely aware of a gaze fixed upon you, unseen yet palpable, like a weight pressing down from above. You turned, your breath catching in your throat, and there, mere inches away, stood the ghostly apparition of Terzo. His form wavered in the dim light, a translucent specter suspended between the worlds of the living and the dead. His eyes, hollow sockets that seemed to bore into the depths of your soul, emanated a sorrow so profound it threatened to swallow you whole. A blood-curdling scream tore from your lips, reverberating through the library’s cavernous expanse, as the books slipped from your grasp, their clattering descent a discordant symphony to the nightmarish encounter that had shattered the illusion of normalcy, plunging you into the unrelenting grip of a horror that defied reason and reality. You fell to the floor yourself, staring up in horror at the sight.

In that fleeting moment, the veil of horror that had enveloped the encounter seemed to unravel, revealing a facade that had concealed a prank orchestrated by the mischievous spirit. The shadows that had loomed large in the corners of the room now appeared benign, mere illusions conjured by Terzo’s playful spirit. The whispers that had chilled your spine with their ghostly murmurings now sounded like echoes of a shared joke, a spectral trickster reveling in the intricacies of his spectral jest.

You sat there, shaken and bewildered, as the ghostly apparition of your beloved Terzo exuded an air of lighthearted amusement, the weight of the previous horrors lifting with each flicker of his ghostly form. His eyes, once filled with a haunting sorrow, now sparkled with an impish delight that hinted at the lingering essence of his vibrant personality. It was as if he had found a way to bridge the gap between the worlds, to offer you a glimpse of his enduring spirit, and he used it to fuck with you.

“Sorella!” A voice sounded behind you, making you turn to look at the Sibling, looking on at you in concern. They reached out to you. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I-I’m fine, thank you. I just-” You turned to look at where Terzo was standing to find that he’d disappeared again. “Lost my balance. Heavy books and all.”

“Here, let’s get you up.” The sibling pulled you to your feet and helped straighten your habit, before bending to pick up your books for you. You didn’t recognise them from when you worked here, they must have been your replacement. All the while, you stood there, dumbfounded by your encounter with Terzo’s apparition, apprehensive to fully believe what you’d just seen. It must be the grief causing you to hallucinate.

“Are you okay?” They asked once they saw the look on your face. “You look exhausted.”

“I’m fine, thanks. Just having trouble sleeping, is all. Thanks.” You took the pile of books off them and went to walk away.

“Listen, people talk… and they’re talking a lot about you, these days. The other librarians - well, they filled me in on what I missed before I was hired here. I remember seeing your face every time I came in here and, well, wondered where you went. They told me everything. I… I’m sorry to hear about Papa Terzo. It hurt us all to hear of his passing, but you were much closer to him than the rest of us.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but I really need to get these back to the Cardinal.”

They nodded. “Just, if you need a friend, I’m always about and available for a listen. And we have loads of books on grief… if you need them.”

You nodded awkwardly. The relationship you shared with Terzo was particularly unusual for a Sibling of Sin and a Papa, especially when that Sibling wasn’t the Papa’s Prime Mover. You cast your mind back to the very start of your relationship, how you instantly became famous for being Terzo’s favourite whore: the one to lock down the fuck boy. Now you were his grieving widow in the eyes of the Ministry, and their looks of pity as you passed them in the corridor didn’t escape you. Nor did their sad, little whispers commenting on your demeanor, or appearance. Though this Sibling seemed kind, there was no doubt in your mind that you’d be unable to trust them as far as you could throw them. Confide in them and your business would be all round the Ministry by tea time. Instead, you thanked them for their kindness, gathered the remainder of your books and threw them on Copia’s desk, announcing to him that you’d be taking the rest of the day off. Any protests he had died on his tongue before he had the chance to utter the words. Despite his authority over the church now, he was still as cowardly as he used to be.

As you stepped through the threshold of your home, the faintest hint of Terzo’s cologne wafted through the air, infusing the space with a familiar warmth that enveloped you like a long-awaited embrace. The fragrance, a delicate blend of musk, cedar, and coffee, carried with it a sense of comfort, a poignant reminder of the one you had loved and lost. It wrapped around you like a soothing blanket, dispelling the remnants of fear and uncertainty that had clung to you since the spectral encounter at the library.

Each inhalation brought forth a flood of memories, of moments shared and cherished, of laughter and tenderness that lingered in the very fabric of your being. It was as if Terzo’s essence had found its way back to you, a gentle presence that sought to reassure you, to offer solace in the wake of the day’s unsettling events. The scent, once a haunting reminder of his absence. Tears welled in your eyes the moment the door closed, and you collapsed onto the floor, sobbing into your hands until a headache formed. Exhausted and emotionally spent, you eventually fell into a fitful sleep right there, at the entrance of your home, the cold floor beneath you a stark reminder of the emptiness that now pervaded your life.

As you stirred back to consciousness, the darkness that surrounded you seemed to press in closer, enveloping you in a shroud of impenetrable blackness. You had no idea how long you’d been asleep for, but you recognised the familiar ache in your back from hours spent in an uncomfortable position, and the moonlight shining through the window gave you an indication. You’d been dead to the world for a while. Despite the ache, you couldn’t bring yourself to move, remaining parallel to the floor in your misery.

A sense of palpable presence lingered in the room, an intangible weight that settled upon your consciousness, evoking a feeling of being watched, yet not with the malevolence that had haunted your previous encounters. Instead, it carried an air of quiet companionship, a spectral reassurance that you were not alone in your moment of vulnerability.

Though the shadows obscured the source of the presence, you felt an inexplicable warmth, a gentle energy that seemed to radiate from the very air around you. It was as if a benevolent spirit had taken residence in the room, offering a silent solace in the wake of your ceaseless mourning. In the stillness of the night, you found a strange comfort in the notion that Terzo’s spirit, in whatever form it had taken, lingered close, a silent guardian watching over you in the darkest hours of your grief.

The weight of the encounter at the library and the haunting scent of his cologne now seemed to fade into the background, replaced by a sense of peace that settled within the quiet space between heartbeats. It was a moment of communion with the unknown, a shared understanding that transcended the limitations of the mortal realm, offering a glimmer of solace in the infinite expanse of your sorrow.

In the stillness of the night, with the enigmatic presence as your silent witness, you allowed yourself to surrender to the gentle embrace of sleep once more, secure in the knowledge that even in the absence of the tangible, the spirit of Terzo would continue to watch over you, a silent sentinel standing guard over the shattered fragments of your grieving heart.

The sensation of a gentle touch, a warm pressure on your shoulder, stirred your emotions back up, more tears beginning to form in your eyes. In the darkness, you could almost see Terzo sitting beside you, his presence a soothing balm to the ache that had settled deep within your soul. His hand, though insubstantial, carried with it an unmistakable tenderness, a gesture of comfort that transcended the confines of the physical world.

That hand travelled from your shoulder, tickling your bicep and holding onto your hip as he so often did when you lay in bed together, naked and exhausted from a night full of passion. His scent, as it did then, enveloped you entirely now. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him. “Why did you scare me?” You asked.

As the gentle spectral touch of Terzo’s hand gradually dissipated, a newfound sense of courage welled within you, buoyed by the lingering reassurance of his presence. The memory of the Ouija board, once a source of trepidation in the wake of recent spectral encounters, now resurfaced with a renewed sense of purpose. Though the thought of delving into the ethereal realm had initially filled you with a sense of dread, you now felt a resolute determination to connect with Terzo once more, to bridge the gap between the living and the departed in a bid to seek solace and understanding.

With a steady resolve, you retrieved the Ouija board from its place, the weight of its wooden surface a tangible reminder of the mysteries that lay beyond the veil of the known world. You positioned it before you, the letters and numbers now aglow with a faint, otherworldly luminescence. The planchette, a conduit to the realm of spirits, beckoned to you, and you placed your fingertips upon its smooth surface, ready to invite Terzo’s spirit into the sacred space between the living and the dead.

The room seemed to hum with a quiet energy, the air charged with an anticipation that transcended the physical realm. You closed your eyes, allowing your thoughts to coalesce around the memory of Terzo, your love for him pulsing through every fiber of your being. With each deliberate movement of the planchette, you sought to establish a connection, to bridge the gap that separated you, to invite his spirit to commune with you once more. In the hushed stillness of the night, you whispered his name, the sound carrying on the breath of a fervent prayer, a fervent plea to transcend the boundaries of mortality and find a semblance of peace in the communion of spirits. You lit candles, and called out to him.“Terzo?”

Anticipation coursed through you as the planchette stirred beneath your fingertips, its smooth surface gliding across the letters etched onto the Ouija board. The movement was deliberate, purposeful, as if guided by an unseen force that resonated with the very essence of Terzo’s spirit. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart hammering with a mixture of trepidation and awe, as the planchette continued its mysterious journey across the board.

Yes.

“Is this actually you?”

More movement, only to bring you back to the same word: Yes.

“If this is you, then tell me something only you would know. When did you first realise you loved me?”

O-B-S-E-R-V-A-T-O-R-Y.

The Ministry prided itself on knowledge and spared no expense when it was being built all those millennia ago. The library itself was a stunning space, and one of your favourite locations to be in, but the observatory was next level. The room was circular and made of white marble, with Italian columns spaced equidistant between the large wall high windows. There was a short ledge between the walls and the perfectly domed glass ceiling for structural reasons, but that was also covered in long, rectangular windows so more light could get in. There was an arched door on the other end of the room that led out to the balcony, which allowed for complete unobstructed stargazing if one so wished. On the other side of the room, right near the entrance was a white, leather, curved sofa that extended the length of the wall, with desks on wheels that allowed for extra work space.

Terzo caught you during one of your shifts, laying on the wooden ground with your ankles crossed and your hands resting on your stomach. A pillow was beneath you head yet your eyes were open. You were taking a break and had come to bask in the sunset. He’d opened the door quietly so as not to disturb you and continued to watch you for a few more seconds before he spoke. “Ah, Sorella. We don’t pay you to sleep on the job.” Because of how empty the room was, his voice echoed a little giving it more power than he intended.

The sound of his voice scared you and you sat up sharply, turning your head quickly before you locked eyes with him. There was panic reflected there, like you’d been caught misbehaving by Satan himself - but you’d essentially been caught by your boss’ boss’ boss slacking. You stood quickly. “I’m so sorry, Papa! I was just taking a quick break.”

He laughed at you, not cruelly, just because you were cute. “Va bene. You looked like you were having a great time, sì?”

“Sì.”

“Dimmi i tuoi pensieri.”

“Hm?”

He chuckled softly. “The Italian lessons are going well, I see.”

“I start tomorrow.”

“Tell me your thoughts.”

You sighed and looked back at the sunset, but he continued looking at you. “Just having one of those moments where you stop and take stock and appreciate what you have. Italian sunsets are something else, aren’t they?”

No words were needed at this moment, just a soft noise of agreement. He hadn’t realised how quiet the room was until you looked back at him, and your eyes met. In the light of the sunset you were truly breathtaking. He shook his head and took a small step away from you, pulling himself out of whatever spell you’d bewitched him with. But it didn’t matter how much he tried to deny it, he was falling head over heels in love with you.

It really was him. A sense of frustration washed over you. “Why the fuck did you scare me like that?”

F-U-N-N-Y.

“Fuck you!”

S-U-R-E.

You rolled your eyes. This was a typical Terzo conversation, and usually it would end with him on your body, or as he would prefer, inside it. “Nice try, dipshit. You’re dead. That wouldn’t work.” Your final sentence took on a sombre tone, your excitement washing away and replacing it with sadness. Your brain had forgotten that little detail all too quickly, and the reality was about to come crashing down around you. The sound of the planchette moving distracted you, temporarily at least.

W-A-I-T.

“Wait? Wait for what?”

Nothing.

“Terzo? Wait for what?”

You waited for a little while longer, trying desperately to regain the connection you just had with him, but it had vanished. Terzo had disappeared.

In fact, he remained gone for three days. There was nothing. No cruel jumpscares, no smells, no sounds, no touches. Not a single thing from him. You left the board out just in case he wanted to talk to you while you were at home, but the planchette only moved at your touch and not his. The cold shoulder hit you like a shock to your system. Finally, after weeks of being without him, you’d made contact with him. For days he’d been around you - even if it was at the expense of your sanity. And now all of a sudden there was nothing - it felt like you’d been thrown into ice cold water and left to fend for yourself.

But Terzo said wait. And so, wait you would.

This was your first Black Mass since Terzo’s execution, and so it felt weird sitting in the large chapel of the Ministry after so many weeks away. Of course, as you expected, all eyes were on you as soon as you walked in, the congregation whispering to each other to spread the news of your arrival like wildfire. In order to keep yourself as private as possible, you chose to sit in the back row, and as more and more Siblings and the Ghouls of previous Papas filed in, you realised they all didn’t want to sit beside you… the exception being Terzo’s Ghouls,who had also suffered a great loss.

Moss threw himself on the pew next to you, gripping onto your hand like a friend would. You weren’t sure if you could consider Terzo’s Ghouls your friends, but it was nice to have a familiar face. “It’s good to see you here today.” He said, softly.

You nodded. “It’s good to see you too. I didn’t want to be here today. I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to come back.”

“Small steps. Papa would hate for you to become a recluse.” He squeezed your hand in an attempt to comfort you further, and encourage you to keep this up. “This is already a huge step. You should be proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Moss.”

The entrance of the Clergy Officials, garbed in their varied black and red regalia, sent a ripple of apprehension through the congregation, marking the imminent commencement of the Mass. Everyone stood out of respect, but you and the other Ghouls remained seated in protest of the Clergy’s actions thus far. Stream had explained it to you a while ago: during the mourning period, they would remain seated. You observed with a simmering contempt as these figures, each a pillar of the dark hierarchy, took their seats, their presence casting a formal cloud over the gathered worshippers. Their eyes, shrouded by the dark recesses of their Cardinal makeup, seemed to linger with an unsettling scrutiny, as if they could discern the innermost secrets of those in attendance.

Following closely behind the officials, with an air of regal authority, came the figures you despised the most: Copia’s parents, Sister Imperator and the idiotic Papa Nihil. Their commanding presence exuded an aura of foreboding power, their very essence a testament to the malevolent legacy that had entrenched itself within the heart of the Church. The smirk etched across Sister Imperator’s face as her gaze met yours sent a chill down your spine, the shit-eating expression on her face threatening to engulf you in a suffocating shroud of dread. She was so sure she’d won whatever war she had fought; she was so sure she was invincible. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, a potent mixture of anger and indignation boiling within you, demanding release in the face of her insidious mockery. The weight of her disdainful gaze seemed to sear into your very soul, a silent reminder of the hierarchy of darkness that ruled over the congregation.

Beside you, Moss, sensing the uproar of emotions raging within you, placed a reassuring hand on your arm, his touch anchoring you to the present moment. His silent gesture of solidarity implored you to remain composed, to resist the urge to confront the Imperator, whose every calculated move seemed designed to provoke and unsettle.

And then, with a quick stride, Cardinal Copia entered the hall, his visage an unsettling blend of awkwardness and authority, as though he had to keep reminding himself of his position. As he ascended the dais to lead the congregation in the unholy proceedings, you felt a surge of revulsion, a potent mixture of hatred and disdain directed at the figure who now wielded power in the name of the malevolent forces that governed the realm of darkness, and his lineage who had taken a comfortable seat on the wooden pews of the front row.

Copia had always seemed somewhat pathetic to you, a character whose uncertainty and timidity had once been palpable, but it appeared that he had undergone a transformation of sorts, now imbued with a newfound confidence that emanated from his position as the leader of the dark congregation. He was introverted and not conventionally attractive, which meant many members of the Ministry had it out for him. Rumours about him spread like wildfire, and all of them were more unbelievable and cruel than the last. Before all of this, you refused to believe them, and couldn’t understand where they came from. But now? Now you’d believe them just to spite him. Given how much everyone loved Papa Terzo, no one could imagine him being deposed by… well… a Cardinal who didn’t really have any friends. He often stumbled over his words and spoke quietly, had terrible posture and a gaze that always lingered for moments too long. A wallflower tasked with taking command of a congregation. He never should have stood a chance, yet there he was, making speeches and reading texts, shunning Catholicism for its evils while he was speaking with the voice of hypocrisy.

The congregation, an eclectic mix of followers, now hung on Copia’s every, quiet, word, their devotion to the sinister doctrines palpable in the eerie silence that pervaded the hall. As he intoned incantations and recited dark liturgy, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of unease, a discomfort that mingled with your disdain for the man who had once been a mere annoyance but now held a position of dark power.

A shiver coursed down your spine as the sensation of a presence lingering behind you tugged at the edges of your awareness. With a mounting sense of anticipation, you slowly pivoted to steal a glance over your shoulder, half-expecting to find the spectral form of Terzo standing there, his gaze fixed upon you with a reassuring warmth. However, to your disquieting realization, there was no one there, no discernible figure or apparition to account for the palpable energy that seemed to permeate the very air around you.

As you turned back to face the front once more, you carried with you the unreal comfort of Terzo’s spiritual presence. The mysterious energy of the room seemed to shift, imbued with a faint glimmer of hope that defied the darkness that threatened to consume it. You felt the hairs on your body stand on end, electrified by the energy now surrounding you. A weight appeared on your shoulders, not too heavy to burden, but heavy enough to remind you that he was there. You felt feather light touches on your bicep as Terzo’s scent filled your mind and clouded your senses, soft grazes against the sensitive part of your neck - a favourite spot for Terzo when he was alive, he loved to hear you gasp.

The gasp that left your body at that moment was loud enough to disturb the people around you, causing them to turn and look at you in alarm or concern. You nodded and mouthed a silent apology to appease them, but Moss’ eyes still lingered. He said nothing, but you could see that a question was bubbling in his throat. Meanwhile, yours had the ghostly feeling of Terzo’s lips pressed against the skin, tormenting you in front of all the Siblings. This would usually be the part of the proceedings where he’d whisper sweet nothings in your ear, remind you that you needed to be silent or people would suspect something. But you knew him well enough to know he’d claim you in front of the entire congregation if he saw fit to do so. Lucifer, how you wished you could hear him right now.

The feeling on your bicep ended, only to be replaced by fingers pawing at your clothed clitoris, rubbing deftly over the fabric simply to torment you and tease you. You released another gasp, this time repressed enough to disturb only Moss, who was now staring at you intensely. Your toes pressed against the marble floor to keep yourself sitting upright as your thick thighs parted involuntarily, granting better access to Terzo’s phantasmal fingers. Terzo, of course, took advantage of this - you could almost feel the rumbling of his chest as he chuckled at you for being so desperate for him, during Mass no less.

The fabric of your panties never moved or shifted, visually it was as if nothing was wrong, but you felt Terzo’s fingers much more solidly on your clit, as if he’d moved the fabric to the side and was now making direct contact with the bundle of nerves, set alight for the first time in weeks. He applied more pressure with each circle he rubbed into your folds, before you felt his fingers dip inside you.

You were so wet and ready for him, and despite him beginning with two fingers, your body was feeling no pain. There was the familiar stretch that you loved, but none of the delicious bite that accompanied it. Your mouth fell open with the unbridled pleasure only his fingers could bring, with the way they tapped upwards immediately and hit against your g-spot in a way that almost had you screaming out loud if it wasn’t for your hands against your mouth, muffling your cries to absolute silence.

“Sister,” Moss whispered from beside you, “are you okay?”

You simply nodded in response, not trusting your voice to answer for you. The hand that wasn’t clasped against your mouth flew to Moss’ open hand and began to squeeze, searching for comfort. Your hips had shifted, pressing your covered clit against the wooden pew, gently rocking them back and forth and rubbing yourself against it for the extra stimulation. To Moss, it just looked like you were in pain. He didn’t see the way your nipples were erect and rubbing against the lace of your bra, and he certainly couldn’t hear the way your wet cunt was succumbing to Terzo’s fingers, ebbing you ever closer to an intense orgasm at the back of Black Mass, your fingernails digging into the meat of Moss’ hand.

Knowing that you hadn’t orgasmed in so long, and knowing what Terzo’s fingers were capable of, apparently even in death, you knew that what was building inside of you was going to explode at any given time, and it would overtake your entire body. You had to go. You had to leave before he made you cum.

“I h-have to g-go!” You whispered to Moss, straightening yourself up and quietly running out of the Church. In your haste to escape, you didn’t notice the way Moss and the other Ghouls were staring at you - and you certainly had no idea that Copia had witnessed your escape.

The sunlight glared onto your face as you made your getaway, looking around the courtyard frantically for shelter or somewhere you could cool off. Terzo’s fingers had retracted from your cunt, but you could still feel him on your body. He wasn’t finished with you yet. Ideally, you’d make your way back to your home and deal with this there, but as you stood outside trying to force your clouded brain to make a plan, you could feel Terzo’s body pressed against yours, his hands running all over your soft body, grabbing at you as he saw fit. He pulled at the fat of your hips, squeezed your pillowy breasts, rubbed your hidden nipples between his fingers as he groped you for his own pleasure -and perhaps yours. Your body felt like it was on fire wherever his touches landed.

You just let your feet carry you round the back of the Church to the quiet gardens. This would do - it would have to. You felt Terzo’s hands back on your body, pushing against your shoulders and pinning you against a nearby tree. You still couldn’t see him - you had no idea where he was or what he was planning as his hands disappeared. That was until you felt extra wetness press against your panties. His tongue. Oh, fuck, his tongue. It laved over the gusset of your panties, savouring the taste of your wetness and rubbing you over and over again. Your panties fit you perfectly, but in this moment, in this desperation with the feeling of Hellfire burning your entire body to a crisp, it felt like too much. They needed to be off of you; and so, in a frantic movement, you pulled them off your body and threw them somewhere onto the grass, leaning back against the tree and spreading yourself open for your spectral lover, who dove back into your folds like a man starved. He began roughly licking and sucking on your clit as your hips bucked wantonly against his ghostly face, providing you with as much stimulation as he could to get you to climax as quickly as possible. He seemed just as needy as you.

Your hands were itching to tangle in his locks, desperate to tug on the black strands and push his face into your cunt. You needed to ride his face and take what you needed from his tongue, but there was nothing to see - nothing to grab. You needed to grab something. So, you pulled your habit up over your breasts, exposing your voluptuous body to the elements and any lucky passerby, and pulled and tugged at your nipples through your bra, whining at the sensitivity. Your moans after that fell naturally, easily, just as they always did whenever Terzo was in-between your thighs.

“Fuck, Papa! Just like that. Please.” You begged to the air, pulling at yourself hard. “I’m so fucking close, Papa! Don’t stop, please don’t stop. Oh, fuck!”

You felt his mouth suction against you harder, the vibrations of an unheard growl shocking you and making you scream a little louder. It felt incredible to have his magical tongue lavish you in pleasure once more - almost intoxicating. You needed this. You needed him. You were so close. Just a little more - just a little longer.

Yes.

Yes!

Yes!

With one final suck of his mouth on your clit, and a particularly hard tug from your fingers, your orgasm struck you, hitting you like a freight train and knocking the wind out of you. Your lungs burned with the need for oxygen, but your entire body cramped and froze as your orgasm took control, filling you with pleasure that started at your cunt and ran all the way through your body, nerve-endings screaming at the exertion, and cum oozing out of your cunt and running down your thighs as the majority of it flooded the ground and the tree’s exposed roots beneath you.

When your orgasm subsided, you were exhausted. It had been so long since you had one, let alone one of that strength. It was in the haze, you’d realised what had just happened. You realised that your cum was dripping down your legs and that your entire body was exposed. You realised that you were alone. How you’d kill to have Terzo’s arms wrapped around you right now, to tell you how good you’d been for him, to tell you how much he loved you as he always did when you were recovering from his onslaught. Before you had the chance to break down against the tree you’d just been pinned to, you picked up your panties from the grass and trudged all the way back across the Ministry’s grounds, knees like jelly, and threw yourself on your bed once you arrived home.

In the days that followed the unsettling encounter during the Black Mass, the memory of Terzo’s spectral presence lingered like a ghostly echo, a haunting reminder of the unbelievable nature of his existence beyond the realms of the living. His touch haunted you as though he was still there - the places his fingers and mouth had been still burned through to your soul, and had you touching yourself in the darkness of your room in an attempt to recreate that feeling. It didn’t matter how many times you orgasmed at the thought of him, how much your own fingers traced against your skin, it didn’t feel the same. It never did - even when he was alive and away on tour. The longing to see him, to feel the warmth of his touch, to hear the timbre of his voice, gnawed at the depths of your being, leaving an ache that seemed to seep into every crevice of your soul. The inability to bridge the gap between the real and the ethereal only served to magnify the sense of loss that pervaded your every waking moment, casting a shadow over even the most mundane of tasks.

Each passing day brought with it a relentless yearning, a longing that refused to be assuaged by the fleeting memories and spectral encounters that punctuated the fabric of your existence. The knowledge that Terzo’s spirit lingered just beyond the veil of perception served as a bittersweet solace, a faint glimmer of hope in the vast expanse of grief and longing that threatened to consume you whole. Yet, the inability to fully connect with his essence, to share in the tangible manifestations of his love and presence, left you feeling adrift in a world that seemed to have lost its vibrancy and meaning.

As you navigated the mundane rhythms of daily life, the ache of his absence remained a constant companion, a silent echo of a love that transcended the limitations of mortality. The void that Terzo’s departure had left in your life seemed to expand with each passing day, a cavernous emptiness that defied the passage of time and the distractions of the outside world. In the silence of your solitude, you grappled with the enigmatic nature of existence, with the elusive threads that connected the realms of the living and the dead, and with the unyielding longing for a connection that surpassed the boundaries of life and death. There must be something you could do…

The library welcomed you with its familiar hush as you stepped through its hallowed doors, seeking respite from the ceaseless agitation of your own thoughts. The soft rustle of pages turning and the faint murmur of distant conversations enveloped you, offering a semblance of comfort in the labyrinth of towering bookshelves that lined the expansive halls. With a determined resolve, you navigated the aisles, the scent of aging paper and polished wood a soothing balm to the turbulence that churned within your restless soul.

As you perused the countless volumes that adorned the shelves, your fingers traced the spines of books that promised insights into the enigmatic realms of the afterlife and the mysteries that veiled the boundaries between the living and the dead. You delved into the intricate narratives of spiritual encounters and spectral manifestations, each page offering a glimmer of understanding, a fragment of solace amidst the haunting echoes of your longing for Terzo’s presence.

Amidst the neatly organized rows of books, your fingers alighted upon a weathered tome that seemed to emanate an aura of ancient mystique. As you withdrew it from the shelf, the book revealed itself to be a relic of another era, its faded leather cover bearing the weight of countless years and the touch of countless curious readers. The rich, earthy scent of aged parchment and ink enveloped you, infusing the air with a sense of timelessness that seemed to transcend the confines of the library’s walls.

The cover, weathered and worn with the passage of time, bore intricate embossments of ethereal figures and swirling mists, hinting at the enigmatic knowledge that lay within its pages. Traces of gold leaf, faded but still resplendent, adorned the edges of the cover, their faint glimmer serving as a silent testament to the book’s storied past and the wisdom it held. Your fingertips traced the embossed grooves, the texture of the leather yielding beneath your touch, as if imparting a tangible connection to the ancient mysteries that the book sought to unveil.

As you dared to open its timeworn pages, the delicate rustle of aged paper echoed through the air, each turn revealing a tapestry of meticulously inked illustrations and intricate script that danced across the parchment. The words, etched with a precision that spoke of a bygone era, seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy, their meaning transcending the confines of language and time. The sepia-toned illustrations, rendered with a meticulous hand, depicted ghostly apparitions in various states of ethereal existence, their forms wreathed in shadow and light, their spectral presence an enigmatic blend of the tangible and the intangible.

The weight of the book in your hands seemed to grow heavier, as if bearing the weight of the knowledge it contained, the essence of countless narratives that had woven themselves into the fabric of its pages.

As you delved deeper into the pages of the ancient tome, your eyes alighted upon a ritual that promised to bridge the realms of the living and the dead, to summon forth the spectral essence of those who had departed from the mortal plane. The words, etched with an archaic elegance, seemed to beckon to you from the faded parchment, offering a glimmer of hope in the face of your relentless longing for Terzo’s presence. With each line that you perused, a sense of anticipation bloomed within you, a fervent desire to transcend the boundaries of mortality and connect with his spirit once more, even if only for a fleeting moment.

The ritual, intricately detailed with symbols and incantations, unfolded before you like a map to the ethereal realm, its instructions offering a pathway to channel the energies of the unknown and summon forth the ghostly apparition of your beloved. Your fingers traced the ancient script, committing the intricate steps to memory, each syllable resonating within the depths of your consciousness, a whispered promise of reunion and communion with the spirit that had once been your guiding light.

In the back of your mind, you remembered the Sibling you encountered the last time you were here and how they reminded you that people talk. You knew that whoever was at the front desk would talk about how you’d borrowed a book about apparitions and ghostly rituals. So, you did the next best thing: you took a series of photos for each of the pages, allowing you to keep the information close to you and not get caught in the process.

You made your way from the sanctum of knowledge that was the library, the weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air, driving you forward on your quest to reunite with Terzo’s spirit, even if only for a fleeting moment. The path to the Ministry’s ritual supply shop unfolded before you, each step a testament to your unwavering determination to see the ritual through to its completion. The bustling corridors and busy hallways seemed to blur into the periphery of your consciousness as your mind remained fixated on the sacred task that lay ahead.

Upon arriving at the ritual supply shop, the air seemed to thicken with a palpable sense of mystique, as if the very atmosphere resonated with the esoteric energies that permeated the space. The shop, adorned with an eclectic array of mystical artifacts and arcane paraphernalia, offered a glimpse into a world that existed beyond the confines of the mundane. The soft flicker of black candles cast an ethereal glow, while the sight of crimson paint, rich and vibrant, beckoned to you with a silent promise of the ritual’s imminent fruition.

With a focused determination, you gathered the necessary materials, each item a vital component in the intricate dance of summoning that you sought to perform. The vibrant red paint, symbolizing the blood that pulsed through the veins of life, and the stark black candles, emblematic of the shadows that cloaked the realms of the unknown, spoke to the potent energies that the ritual sought to harness. Each item you procured held within it the potential to bridge the chasm between the worlds, to beckon forth the spirit that had eluded your grasp, to offer a glimpse of solace in the enigmatic communion that lay beyond the boundaries of mortal comprehension.

With the ritual supplies in hand, you felt the weight of the imminent encounter with Terzo’s spirit settle upon your shoulders, a burden that mingled with the fervent hope that guided your every step. The journey back to the confines of your abode seemed to pass in a blur, as your thoughts remained steadfastly fixed on the ritual that now loomed on the horizon, promising to unveil the secrets that lay veiled between the realms of the living and the dead. You were going to see him tonight - you’d make sure of it.

As the cloak of night enveloped the world outside, casting the surroundings into an eerie shroud of darkness, you stood within the designated room, a place now transformed into a sanctum of otherworldly intent. The air seemed to thrum with an otherworldly energy, charged with the anticipation of the ritual that was about to unfold. With a steady hand, you traced the intricate lines of the Satanic pentagram in vivid red upon the floor, each stroke a deliberate invocation of the esoteric forces that lay dormant within the confines of the symbol. The pentagram, a testament to the unyielding power of the occult, now bore the weight of the ritual’s purpose, serving as a conduit between the realms that sought to unite the living with the departed.

At each point of the pentagram, you placed the black candles, their flames flickering with an ethereal luminescence that cast dancing shadows across the room. The soft glow of their light lent an otherworldly aura to the space, imbuing the ritual with a solemn reverence that transcended the mere act of conjuration. As you knelt at the center of the pentagram, a profound sense of purpose enveloped you, the incantation poised on the tip of your tongue, ready to breathe life into the ancient words that had beckoned forth spirits for eons.

With a voice that quivered with a potent blend of determination and trepidation, you began to intone the incantation, each syllable a whispered invocation that resonated with the pulsing energy of the room. The words, spoken with a fervent reverence, seemed to weave themselves into the very fabric of the air, each verse carrying the weight of ancient wisdom and the fervent desire to bridge the gap between the worlds. In the flickering light of the candles and the crimson hue of the pentagram, you channeled the essence of your longing, the fervent plea to summon forth Terzo’s spirit, to invite him into the sacred space that now pulsed with the promise of communion between the realms of the living and the dead.

As the final syllables of the incantation lingered in the air, a profound stillness descended upon the room, punctuated only by the soft flicker of the black candles and the radiant glow of the pentagram that now seemed to hum with an otherworldly energy. And then, amidst the charged silence, the figure of Terzo appeared within the confines of the sacred circle, his form transparent and wreathed in a soft, ethereal blue aura that pulsed with the rhythm of the spirit realm. His presence, though you were unable to touch him, cast a spectral light upon the room, his essence a haunting blend of the familiar and the enigmatic.

You gazed upon him with a mixture of awe and longing, your senses heightened to the subtle nuances that marked his spectral manifestation. The transparency of his form, a mere echo of the physical solidity he once possessed, allowed you to see through him, to discern the faint outlines of the room beyond his spectral figure. Yet, in the ethereal light that bathed his essence, you found a familiarity that transcended the limitations of the physical world, a connection that pulsed with the enduring bond of love and longing that had persisted beyond the confines of mortality.

Though you couldn’t reach out to touch him, the echoes of his presence seemed to weave themselves into the very fabric of your being, his voice carrying on the subtle currents of the air, his gaze meeting yours with a silent reassurance that transcended the boundaries of the spectral plane. The scent of his cologne, now an intangible whisper that lingered in the space around you, evoked a potent wave of nostalgia and longing, intertwining with the enigmatic aura that surrounded his ghostly form.

You couldn’t touch him, but he could touch you. He saw the tears in your eyes and ran outside of the circle, hands cupping your cheeks and looking into your eyes. There was life in his despite his current form, much different to the last time you saw them. “Tesoro!” He breathed, throwing himself down to the floor to your height to offer you some comfort as you felt all of the emotions a person could possibly feel all at once.

You sobbed. Relief flooded your body along with the pain of the grief you’d felt for all this time. The accumulation of all the agonising days rolled into this one meeting, and the shattered pieces of your heart began to stick back together piece by piece, starting with when you saw him standing there just moments ago, and continuing passed the sound of his voice calling for you.

You felt his lips trace ghostly kisses all over your face, starting at your forehead and working all across the expanse of skin, even moving his hands to get to your cheeks. For once, his paints didn’t transfer onto your face as it rubbed against you - and there was something so sad in that; something so heartbreaking in the notion that it would only be your makeup you’d be washing off your body tonight, and not his too. That you wouldn’t hear him come into the bathroom and laugh at your complaints every time his black paint stuck to your cheek and stained it temporarily. You’d give anything to have that just one more time.

“I m-missed you so much!” You wept into his spectral clothes, but your tears dripped onto the floor. You felt his arms wrap around you, but your own hand slid through his body and rested on your own when you tried to grip his arm.

“Lo so, amore mio. I have been with you this whole time.”

“Why did th-they do that to you? I d-don’t understand.”

He looked at you with sadness in his eyes. “You won’t understand. You don’t know everything, yet.”

“Then please explain it to me.”

He sighed. “Non posso. It is not the right time, and I am not the right person to do it. But I need you to remember that my brothers and I were not the only victims here. Besides you, there is another who lives and suffers daily through no fault of their own.”

“What does that mean?”

He shushed you and kissed your forehead. “It doesn’t matter. Non pensarci. Just enjoy this moment while we can, hm? I cannot be here all night.”

You nodded, but cried again. “Did you feel any pain?”

“No, no, no, tesoro. Do not torture yourself with my death, especially not now.” He kissed your lips in an attempt to kiss away the grief. “I need you here with me, now, sì?”

You nodded.

He kissed you again. The kiss was soft, yet full of passion, dripping with the love and adoration he felt for you even in death. You longed to pull him closer, to deepen the kiss and show him just how much you missed him, but what you had would have to do.

Despite the tender moment, despite the sweetness you were experiencing in his presence, you needed something more - something stronger. He’d done it before, you craved him to do it again. You let out the faintest of whimpers as you kissed him, and he picked up on it immediately, deepening the kiss and pulling you flush against his spiritual body.

His hands, like before, began wandering over your body, roaming over your curves and caressing you sweetly, tentatively. He slowly moved forward on his knees, pushing you down onto the cold wooden floor and hovering above you, his lips still attached to yours. One hand propped him up, the other ran from your knee, up your thigh and rested on your hip, your legs parted out of habit to allow him to kneel in between them.

“Tesoro,” he whispered, breaking the kiss and allowing his lips to travel across your cheek, to that sensitive spot on your neck, “the only woman I ever loved. The angel amongst the devils. Even in death, I yearned for this moment.” He kissed your neck, revelling in your gasps and sighs. “Will you undress for me, amore mio?”

He pulled himself away from you and watched you stand, undressing yourself slowly for him. You looked at his eyes the whole time, but didn’t begrudge the fact that his eyes were travelling everywhere. He watched your hands unzip your habit, darkened and hooded eyes watching it pool at your feet. Your bra was removed next, Terzo’s mouth slightly agape and almost drooling at the sight of your breasts falling free of their confines. He groaned deeply, a noise coming from the back of his throat, so low it sounded like he was purring.

He loved your body more than anyone else did. He loved the plush softness of it, how it jiggled when you moved, even slightly. How even repositioning yourself on the couch could get him harder than anything else in the world, just because your thighs would splay against the cushions, and your tummy would jiggle with the force of you sitting down. There were so many times he wished he could paint, because he would have painted you over and over again like you were Michelangelo’s favourite subject. It saddened him to know that this would be the last time he would ever get to see you like this, but at least his soul could rest happily in Hell with Lucifer as this being his final memory.

When you removed your panties, Terzo groaned. “Oh, bella!” He bent at the waist, allowing his forehead to touch the ground, his hands slamming against the wood of the floor. What followed was a string of Italian sentences you had trouble discerning at your low-level, but the way he was talking made you believe whatever he said should be written in a book for the rest of time. He was worshipping you, the very ground you walked on, playfully in true Terzo fashion, but no less insincere. His reaction to seeing you completely bare for him had you giggling, your previous tears long gone. He got to his feet and charged over to you, cupping your face in his hands when he reached you and pulling you into a desperate kiss. “Come, lie down for me.”

Once he had you spread out for him on the floor, he lavished you in kisses again. His lips and his tongue ran wherever they could, savouring every inch of you until there was nothing left to be explored before finally settling on your cunt. He began gently licking and sucking on your clit as your hips bucked wantonly against his ghostly face, providing you with as much stimulation as he could to get you to your end. This time, he wasn’t rushing his work. This time he was making sure to appreciate you, dining on you like a 12-course experience where each bite was a culinary masterpiece - because you were a masterpiece.

Your hips bucked at the sensations he was bestowing upon you, hands still desperate to tangle in his hair and frustration clouding your mind when you realised you couldn’t.

This time, you could hear every single noise his mouth was making against your pussy, the suction, the sound of his saliva swiping against your sopping folds. He worked you like it was his job, hitting every single spot to have you singing for him, writhing beneath him, driving him crazy. In a desperate need to do something with your hands, you moved to your nipples again, pinching, pulling, adding to the onslaught that his mouth was putting your clit through. His hands were clutching onto your thighs, fingers digging into the plush skin there, but leaving no marks as much as you both wanted him to.

“Papa, I’m so close!”

He growled into your cunt, not wanting to stop and have you lose the feeling. You knew he wasn’t going to make you hold back - not this time. He wasn’t going to play with you, or torture you in the most delicious of ways, you both craved each other too much.

“Your tongue feels so good, Terzo! Fuck! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna-”

Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks of a cliffside. One of your hands moved to your mouth and got caught beneath your teeth as you bit down, your body freezing with the intensity of it. Drool spilled from your open mouth, your eyes glazing over and rolling back into your head. Your hands tightened where they were, forcing you to bite down hard on your finger and pinching hard on your nipple. Your lungs refused to fill with air, and your back arched off the floor. Your mind became filled with dizziness from the way your body was convulsing as a result of the intensity, even your voice could no longer work.

As soon as your body relaxed, Terzo detached himself from your core and crawled up over your body, frantically kissing your lips when he reached them. “Always so good for me, hm?” Another kiss, this time his tongue entered your mouth. “Cumming so well on my tongue. Amore mio, I cannot wait.”

“I need you inside me. Quickly, please!”

Terzo nodded dumbly, his hand fiddling at his crotch. Seconds later, he pushed inside of you, stretching you out to make you fit him perfectly inside. You always did. You were always so perfect for him, made specifically for him. To ruin him, to strengthen him. And he was made for you, to offer you pleasure beyond your wildest fantasies, have you seeing stars as you cum around his cock. He fit inside you just right, always hitting your cervix in the most delicious of ways and dragging against your walls, making your body feel alive in the most primal of ways.

Usually, Terzo would wait for you to adjust to his size; but like with his fingers there was no pain with the stretch - no need for adjustment. So instead, when he didn’t see the familiar look on your face that told him everything he needed to know, he just began to move. The first thrust was a tender motion, but it was so strong you felt like you were going to pass out. Without a moment’s hesitation, your hands collided with the ground as your fingers searched for something solid to hold onto. Normally, you would go after his back. Terzo yearned to see the red lines in a mirror that represented your pleasure and to feel the scratch of your nails against his skin. The second felt exactly as good. The rhythmic yet soft movements of Terzo soon picked up speed, leaving your brain turning to mush and your lungs gasping for air. The third thrust had you rolling your eyes back.

The feeling got more and more intense the more he thrust. Your screams, which initially served as a release for your bliss, were no longer effective. As much as it was possible, your back arched off the ground to accommodate him deeper inside of you. Now that his hips were moving more quickly, you were going crazy even more than before. You were completely oblivious to the way you appeared, how perfect you looked all red-faced and sweaty beneath him.

You were living artwork carved by Lucifer, made for pleasures beyond your wildest dreams. You belonged in his bed, lounging lazily as he spoiled you, worshipped you, gave you everything you could ever possibly want. Your body, all curvaceous and plump, jiggling beneath him with the force of his hips. Your thighs wobbling at the movements, your breasts, heavy and full, nipples begging to be played with and sucked into his mouth. His eyes enamoured by the way your tummy shook with the rest of your body, he could no longer resist. He bent down and placed kisses wherever he could: between the valley of your breasts, all over your chest, your sternum.

“Touch yourself for me, tesoro.” He told you, his voice shakey but gentle. “I want to watch you.”

He sat back on his knees and followed your hand as it moved downwards to your clit, thrusting hard when he heard your scream of sensitivity as your fingers made contact. Terzo knelt between your legs and let your hips buck to meet his movements. His gaze was fixed on your face, and the picture of you stretched out in front of him like his favourite meal made his cock twitch inside of you. He gripped your waist for leverage and watched your hand rubbing furiously at your clit, desperately trying to reach another orgasm. He bit his lip at the sight of you - you were so beautiful. You belonged to him; his perfect girl, laying there with her hand on her pussy and his cock slamming into her. It was almost too much to bear.

You had to cum first. You had to. There was no arguing. He needed you to cum again. “That’s it, tesoro. You look so beautiful right now. Taking me so well. Cazzo! You gotta cum, amore. I don’t know how much more I can take. You feel so good! Cum for me, tesoro!”

It didn’t take you long to do as he said, your second orgasm hitting you just as powerfully as the first. You screamed as your fingers moved faster against your clit in an attempt to keep up with both Terzo’s cock and your own orgasm, hips bucking to chase the pleasure. Though you were in the throes of your own orgasm, you fought with your own body to keep your eyes open and your brain focussed so you could watch Terzo reach his own. His hips thrusting erratically inside you, his brows furrowed, his eyes fixed on the way your cunt was creaming at the sensation, running down your body and gathering on the wood. His mind showed him images of the way your juices used to gather at the base of his cock when he would ravish you over and over again. It was that thought that had him orgasming, burying himself deep inside you as he came.

You were always enraptured by the face he made when he came; mouth hanging wide open, a dark look in his eyes that told you he was the only one who got to do this to you. That you belonged to him and no one else. His hands gripped onto both of your hips tightly, as though you’d try and run from him before he had the chance to finish.

When he finally did, and both of your bodies had finally stilled, you both remained where you were in silence. You allowed the quietness to bathe you both in an intimate moment where only your eyes connected as you calmed, savouring what you both knew would be your final moments together. He pulled out of you, making you both wince at the feeling. His borrowed time was coming to an end and you both knew it.

A lump formed in your throat again when you heard the sadness in his voice. “Would you dress yourself for me, tesoro?”

You nodded and slowly dressed again, this time the lethargy was your way of procrastinating. When you put your habit back on, he’d have to leave. When you were dressed and decent, he’d walk back into the pentagram and his soul would return to Hell where he was supposed to remain. “I don’t want you to go.” You said once you were dressed, tears spilling from your eyes and fingers playing with your habit.

He stood from his position on the floor and walked over to you, kissing your forehead. “Amore mio, it brings me solace to be with you, if only for this fleeting moment. I’ve watched over you, felt your every sorrow. But my time here is ephemeral, and Lucifer wants me back.”

“Fuck what Lucifer wants! I can’t bear to let you go again! I still feel your absence every day, and it’s like a piece of me is missing. Dead.”

Terzo was crying, now, too. Eyes glassy and glistening as he wrapped his spectral arms around you and let you sob into the air where his shoulder should have been. “You must find the strength within you to carry on, tesoro. I will always be with you, in the whispers of the wind, in the warmth of the sunlight, and in the quiet moments of your solitude. You are not alone, and you never will be.” He took your hands in his. “But you have a life to live, and you must do it without me now.”

“But it’s not the same without you here. I ache for your touch, your laughter, your presence beside me.”

“I know, tesoro. But remember the joy we shared, the laughter that echoed through our days. Hold onto those memories. They’re the threads that bind us, even across the chasm of existence. You carry a piece of me within your heart, and I, yours.”

You nodded, even though you were still wanting to clutch onto him and never let him go. “I love you, Terzo. I will never forget you.”

He sniffed. “You better not forget me, or I’ll send Hell’s legions to come remind you.”

“Why can’t I hit you?”

“Lucifer has favourites, clearly your Papa is one of them, hm?” He paused, taking in your appearance one last time. “You were the very breath I breathed, amore mio. Towards the end, you were the only thing that I got out of bed for, the only reason I carried on. Love is too weak a word to describe my feelings for you. You are my sanctity, my guiding star in the night sky, the very life in my lungs. Your laughter is a symphony that resonates with the very essence of my being, echoes with a melody that reverberates through the chambers of my heart, a melody that I wish to cherish for all eternity. My heart will forever be yours.

“But, one day, when your heart no longer belongs to me-”

“Never gonna happen.”

“I want it to. I cannot bear the thought of you alone, pining after me for the rest of your life. Tesoro, you are young. Your beautiful heart still has so much to give. Don’t squander your life waiting for a man who can never return. One day, when your heart no longer belongs to me, I hope that the echoes of our love linger as a bittersweet melody, a testament to the timeless moments we shared in the embrace of a love that once knew no bounds.” He kissed your lips one final time.

Through wracked sobs, you echoed him, forcing the words out of your mouth because you knew you’d regret it for the rest of your life. “Goodbye, Terzo.” You wanted more to come out of your mouth. You wanted to tell him just what he meant to you, how his love made you a better person, how he was everything to you, too. But the lump in your throat wouldn’t let you get the words out. “I love you - I always will. I-”

“I know. Goodbye, ___.”

Terzo backed up into the pentagram, his eyes never leaving you. It could have killed him a second time to watch your heart break once more, shattering into a million pieces on the ground as you finally got to say the goodbye you both deserved the first time. Through blurred vision, you watched him blow you a kiss, before disappearing from this realm altogether, only to exist in your memory. From now on, his voice would only come through a speaker from the videos fans took at concerts, his face would forever remain unchanged and unaltered in the pictures on your dresser.

You fell to the floor, your heartbreak doing as much as it could to commit him to your memory before it faded and time began to heal your wounds. One step at a time. One day at a time. One day, you’d heal from this, but for now, all you could do was let yourself feel.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

[cityzenshark]

If S2 doesn't improve the story focus...

Decepticon fan speaking here. I love them, I want to see them getting the limelight, but Earthspark isn't their show. It's about the Terrans and their relationship with the Malto family. There are over a dozen other media where your favourite classics get their spotlight but this show might not be one of them. We have to accept that.

However, EarthSpark's big problem is its disregard of its own main characters to the point the audience care more about the side characters.

Long ramble ahead.

.

From Season 1, Earthspark has the tendency to disregard their own main characters for the sake of already existing ones. Thrash, Robby, Jawbreaker, and the parents are big victims here.

Thrash, despite being the other first Terran, gets little to no development. He only had one focus episode that shifted his positive view of Cybertronians yet it didn't affect his characteristic or the family dynamic whatsoever. He could've been involve in other episodes focusing on the triplets, specifically with Nightshade, like Twitch with Hashtag, but he doesn't. In the end, his canvas is just like his paint job -- empty white.

Robby could've get 4 episodes about him only for 3 of them to be shifted to Twitch & Wheeljack, Starscream, Mo. Never mind the Wheeljack episode and "Prime Time" but "What Dwells Within" is the worst of them all. Now it appears Season 2 is heavily focusing him after S1 dismisses him multiple times.

Starscream, I'm sorry what you've been through, but that episode should never be about you. Robby is sick, the Terrans got rocky with other due to the lost link which triggered Hashtag's trauma of getting possessed, and then they lost their LIFE SOURCE WATER. Earthspark wanted the audience to side with Starscream so bad they put him in the pity light instead of laying out hints of his past in previous episodes and allow the viewers to decide for themselves. The dude's a millennium old soldier, not another Terran.

EDIT: The same case goes for Grimlock. As bad as the dude has gone through in "Home", he's also a millennium-old soldier. He knows he's going through PTSD but Jawbreaker doesn't. JB is a newborn. Instead of celebrating JB when he finally got his alt mode, the moment made viewers hate him because it focuses on Grimlock's point of view.

[IMPORTANT NOTE FOR JB FANS: DO NOT GO TO TRANSFORMEMES SUBREDDIT!! RECENTLY, A USER THERE CAUSED TERRAN HATERS TO POP UP AND WISHING J.B TO DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH BECAUSE HE ACTED LIKE AN OVEREXCITED KID]

The parents... Oh dear their potentials are wasted soooo much. Ignoring Dot's relationship with Megs, they've become mere placements to remind the audience that Robby & Mo aren't poor orphans.

Dot being a veteran is to make her relationship with Megs sound plausible, that's all. Meanwhile Alex's profession in Cybertronian history is only relevant in the pilot episode and he only told the most basic one in lore. They never fuss about the cybersleeves, they seem available all the time but not really, they're ignorant of their children's activities, completely fine with them becoming child soldiers. Dot could've been the one to beat Mandroid to pulp in Prime Time like the Mama Bear she's described to be but no - let the nine year old beat him with alien powers. Alex could've played a bigger role for the Terrans to know about Cybertronians in general; for Nightshade especially by being the one who enables their intelligence and tinkering skills - not just leading them to finding their alt mode.

The show should've made Mo the same age as Robby. You can't ignore that they act like twins more than Twitch & Thrash despite the 5 year age gap. For a nine year old, she has high emotional intelligence yet so inconsiderate and naive at the same time in certain episodes. Pick one personality, please.

Finally, why oh why didn't they fix her face and head size? It looks a lot worse now.

TLDR; don't be surprised by the sudden change in character of the Cons. Earthspark doesn't respect their own main characters except Twitch. So let us heed Season 2 with low expectations.

[in1-nutshell]

Hii! I absolutely loved your requests and how the characters act and wished they were longer, but! I wanna request of the continuation of Buddy being Bee’s twin who was brainwashed to be a con!

BUT I WANT BUDDY AND BEE TO REUNITE WITH BUDDY COMING BACK TO THE BOTS SIDE PLEASE

The twins are going to be reunited! Or are they...

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being Bumblebee's Twin who was brainwashed and reunited

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronain reader

TFP

Starcsream was the one who left Pandora’s box open.

He was having one of those days again.

Being pinned down by Megatron, having the Autobot’s kick in new dents into his wings, and worst of all being laughed at by his underlings!

Starscream limping in the halls.

Buddy walking by.

“Hey, do you need help getting to the med bay?”--Buddy

Starscream swiping Buddy’s servo.

“Get away from me Autobot scum!”--Starscream

Starscream walking away.

This peaked Buddy’s curiosity.

Starscream was many things, but when he gets mad, he always lets some hidden truth out.

So why did he call them an Autobot?

For the last months on Earth Buddy had been facing off to the yellow mech in every encounter they had.

Nearly having the chance to offline him on multiple occasions, but they always hesitated at the last second.

They first thought that their trigger digit was seizing up and had Knockout look at it.

Buddy sitting on the med bay as Knockout examines their servo.

“Hmm… interesting.”--Knockout

“What?”--Buddy

“Nothing seems to be wrong with it.”--Knockout

“That’s… strange.”--Buddy

“Well, my work here is done.”--Knockout

“Do you recommend I do anything in case it happens again?”--Buddy

“…Try using your other servo.”--Knockout

This interaction only further deepened the curiosity.

They knew better than to ask anyone on board.

So, they would have to do some snooping on their own.

But they had to be careful about it.

Buddy chose the rare time Soundwave was out of the ship to gain access to the mainframe.

They could easily delete their footprint from everyone, but Soundwave always terrified them to an extent.

Better safe than sorry.

It took a matter of finding some hidden files under their name to finally piece together the story.

A rather horrifying realization.

Buddy was an Autobot.

They were related to the yellow mech.

They were his twin.

Buddy’s tanks never sunk so low as it did when they read the statement repeatedly.

They had nearly offlined their own twin and they didn’t even know it.

They saw pictures of them as an Autobot. The frame was different, but at the same time, it felt familiar.

It turned out that Starscream himself had managed to kidnap Buddy during a confrontation with Megatron. He brought them for interrogation, after they didn’t budge Megatron and Shockwave decided to make use of them, through shadow play and memory alteration Buddy was a blank slated and had been replaced with altered memories with an altered frame.

Buddy felt sick as they downloaded the information to the data slug.

Making sure that they left everything how it was they quickly left to their habsuite.

They knew they needed to make a decision with this new information.

They knew which one they were going to make.

It took a week of preparations, but they did it.

Now was to act.

“All right. I’ve destroyed the tracker and the remote groundbrigde should be online in a couple more nanoclick… This is actually going according—”--Buddy

CRASH!

BANG!

“…I had to jinx it didn’t I?”—Buddy

BANG! BANG!

“No matter… Just need to input the coordinates… and pull the—”--Buddy

Achoo!

“Bless you. Now –"--Buddy

Buddy stops and looks to where the sound was.

They look down to see a teeny human with glasses looking at them.

“…”--Buddy

“…”--Raf

“…I hope you don’t take this the wrong way.”--Buddy

“Why—”--Raf

Buddy tossing him into their subspace and jumping into the groundbrigde.

Buddy came out the other way, skidding on the rocky ground as the groundbridge closed behind them.

They were finally free.

Now time to deal with the next steps…

Buddy opening their subspace and grabbing the human.

“Sorry about that.”--Buddy

“Who?! What!—”--Raf

“I know what this looks like, but this is not a kidnapping.”--Buddy

“I kinda does…”--Raf

“Yeah, it does but it was either that or have one of those Cons step on you. And quite frankly, your species has grown on me a bit.”--Buddy

“…Thanks?”--Raf

“Yeah, anyways the names Buddy kid. What’s your name?”--Buddy

“Raf. What a minute. Bumblebee said he had a twin named Buddy…”--Raf

“Well, there’s something about that… you can read Cybertronian can you?”--Buddy

“Yes?”--Raf

“Look at the screen.”--Buddy

Buddy did not expect the surprise hug that the teeny human gave them.

He began ramble all sorts of stories Bee had told him about them in hopes of recalling memory.

“As much as I appreciate you trying to help, I still don’t remember much.”--Buddy

“Sorry…”--Raf

“It’s all right, kid. Its not your fault. But I am hoping to find your Autobot friends to help me with this. I know my chances are slim to none—”--Buddy

“I’m sure they can help! Or at least look at it.”--Raf

Buddy smiling at Raf carefully patting his head.

Click!

“Servos where I can see them Con!”--Arcee

Buddy turns around slowly with Raf in their servos.

Arcee and Bumblebee have their blasters out.

“Beep bep boop! (Put him down now!)”--Bumblebee

“Bee wait! Its Buddy!”--Raf

“What kind of lies has that Con been telling you!”--Arcee

“No! Really, Buddy show them the data slug!”--Raf

Buddy handing the data slug and Raf to Bumblebee.

“… He only said the data slug, what’s your plan Con?”--Arcee

“I don’t have any plans. And quite frankly you’re my only hope right now.”--Buddy

“Beep? (Hope?)”--Bumblebee

“I… I recently found out that a good portion of my memories had been altered. My frame altered. And… Listen I’ll come with you cuffed and unarmed, I just need to know if what on that data slug is correct with your data base or not.”--Buddy

“Beep bop boop? (What’s on the data slug?)”--Bumblebee

“… I don’t want to give anyone false hope… just cuff me. If there isn’t anything useful, I’ll tell you everything I know about the Nemesis.”--Buddy

“… cuff’em Bee.”—Arcee

Raf wasn’t too happy seeing Buddy cuffed, but he supposed it was for safety reasons.

No one was happy seeing the Con that had gone after Bumblebee at the base in some cuffs.

While Arcee explained the whole situation, Bumblebee strapped them onto the med bay slab.

The two exchanged some looks before looking away.

“You’re telling us that there is a possibility that you could be Bumblebee’s twin?”--Ratchet

“Yes.”--Buddy

“Hmmm. Highly unlikely. I knew Buddy, they would never—”--Ratchet

“Listen, can you just verify the dates! Sorry if that sounds insensitive, but I really just want to know if someone has been messing with my processor!”--Buddy

“The data is almost done. But if I may ask, what made you want to look at this now?”—Optimus

“…Some things haven’t been adding up lately, and when Screamer said I was an Autobot… I just got curious. Either way I’m not going back to the Cons. I’m not going to risk my tailpipe for some leader who keeps putting unfamiliar substances into his chassis, and… yeah.”--Buddy

“Beep bop (you hesitated.)”--Bumblebee

“…Maybe…”--Buddy

“Beeepbep bop (Is there another reason?)”--Bumblebee

“…So, what if I don’t agree with the annihilation of an entire species that has nothing to do with the war.”--Buddy

Scan complete.

“Finally! Let’s see what it says!”--Bulkhead

“Yip, yip, Bulkhead stand away from the console.”--Ratchet

“Right, sorry.”--Bulkhead

“And the scan says—By the Allspark…”--Ratchet

“Beep (What?)”--Bumblebee

“Yeah, what’s going on? I can’t exactly see with you guys’ backsides in my line of vision.”--Buddy

“Buddy.”--Ratchet

“Yes?”--Buddy

“… Your presumptions are correct. Bumblebee, that is your twin.”--Ratchet

Both Bots freeze before fainting.

“At least one of them is on the med slab?”--Miko

“Miko not now.”--Raf

[fascinationex]

Sometimes I think TFP fandom would be so interesting if it had occurred a tiny bit later, especially with regard to Miko Nakadai. Because when I spy the ancient scripts (old fanfic notes, old posts, etc) talking about TFP, there was a lot of, "Yeah, I hate the kids though, Miko is really annoying..." and I bet if we were getting Miko NOW people would appreciate her a lot more. Fandom is still pretty misogynistic in some ways, but not quite like it was 10, 12 years ago. Now, people would be absolutely FROTHING about the Hardshell mini-arc, not to mention the whole apex armour thing.

At first Miko is presented to the audience as this loud, quippy, dramatic girl and she is initially placed as an obvious foil for Jack. That is, she is in the same circumstances as him (they are both human companions for the bots, keeping their secret, ultimately presided over by an extremely exasperated government agent and depressed dadimus), but she's clearly intended to be a contrast for the audience: Jack is responsible, Miko is irresponsible; Jack understands the nature and seriousness of war and worries about it, Miko thinks it's all cool and badass; Jack worries about endangering themselves and Raf, Miko throws herself into giant robot fights, takes a photo for posterity, and barfs on Bulkhead's interiors, etc. and so on.

But in a rare follow-through, they didn't leave her there. When she does get the rare Serious Miko episode, none of Miko's advanced goblin characteristics actually go away. There's no weird new serious Miko who is "corrected" by the narrative. She's not safer. She's DEFINITELY not more responsible — she's INCREDIBLY reckless. If you haven't seen it, there's an episode where she withholds intel from an Autobot officer (Wheeljack) until he agrees to take her on a completely unsanctioned revenge quest. They blow up a bunch of stuff and bait Megatron. And then she ignores Wheeljack's orders anyway.

When considering her character development, the show poses the question, "Does Miko REALLY not understand the gravity of the conflict she's embroiled in?" And then it answers it with, "She understands, but it's not stopping her from behaving like this. Also, she would pull the trigger."

And this isn't part of my argument, really, but she's just SO proud of herself when Starscream boasts to her of killing Autobots, and she stares him down ALL ALONE, IN FRONT OF HIS OWN MEN and tells him she's the one who killed Hardshell. Aw, Miko. ♡

(I love Miko so much and) I think 2024 tumblr would have loved her so much more than, like, the 2011 fanfic fandom seems to have.

[iwozlegit]

Earthspark Spoilers

|| 🍍• Earthspark has done it again. I’m crying. I love them all. A few very important points that elucidate the continuing strength of its narrative.

Incorporating Grimlock’s mind control as a metaphor for PTSD, and showcasing triggers.

Showcasing triggers in other characters.

Having the Maltos continually analyse all sides of issues they face (ethical/moral choices), for example when debating how to deal with Shockwave.

Having Hashtag acknowledge that Megatron (now an Autobot) once treated Starscream horrifically, and letting him know that he can talk about how hurt he’s been and be heard.

Combating the difficult topics of loss and anxiety (especially through the eyes of a child).

Discussing issues of self-esteem from a believable perspective by incorporating the use of feminism, sexism, and unity.

I’ve probably missed loads of important points from the new episode release and the conclusion of Season 1, but this show continues to not shy away from real-world topics. It’s real. It’s believable. And it’s not ashamed to be what it is.

It still baffles me endlessly how this series became under scrutiny in the media several months ago for being real. For having a character be real and authentic for themselves - a character with such an endearing outlook on life and exuberantly layered personality come under fire and scorned solely upon how they wish to be perceived. I hope this new instalment helps eradicate these issues, moving forth to educate and strengthen hope for many more great episodes for transformers fans and children everywhere.

[yanderes-galore]

Cyberverse shockwave Vs soundwave X Cybertronian reader?

Oh this could be fun! I watched some of Cyberverse on YT so I hope I get the characters accurate ^^; I'm not done with it so expect some inaccuracies.

Yandere! TFCV! Shockwave vs TFCV! Soundwave with Cybertronian! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Cybertronian/Cybertronian pairing, Stalking, Manipulation, Recordings, Kidnapping, Attempted reprogramming/brainwashing, Dubious/Forced relationship, Jealousy, Violence, Stockholm Syndrome mention, Sadism, Implications of torture, Attempted murder/Implications of murder.

The two already have a rivalry with each other.

Soundwave is loyal to Megatron while Shockwave is willing to replace him if he keeps messing up the job.

The two already try to sabotage each other.

Hell, Soundwave is even petty about it, taunting Shockwave whenever he can.

So even before adding any sort of darling into the mix they dislike each other.

Which makes them a pair incompatible of sharing.

I'd imagine the easiest way to do this with a Cybertronian darling is if you were a Decepticon.

Then you're on the same side and tracking you is much easier.

Then there's the harder way, you being an Autobot.

That or you are a dissenting Decepticon no longer believing in Megatron's cause.

Either way, those are some ways you could be a Cybertronian! Darling.

Let's discuss a Decepticon/Dissenter! darling first.

Both of them are able to keep track of you due to scanners.

Soundwave can track you via cameras and always seems to know where you are.

Meanwhile Shockwave can use his mini spider turrets to track you if he needs to.

I imagine the two would treat you relatively well as a Decepticon.

They appear emotionless at times, maybe even like they don't care about you... they do.

They just show it in their own way.

When Soundwave calls you up to him or meets you alone he eagerly listens to you.

His speech is limited, preferring not to talk for the most part, but he'll greet your presence.

It's hard to tell how much he cares until someone tries to take your attention from him.

He sometimes records your conversations to listen to later.

He may even look for songs you possibly like to play for you in private.

He isn't the most affectionate but does care for you as a fellow Decepticon.

Even it doesn't show much.

Shockwave is often looking for someone to vent to while he works in his lab.

Or just some sort of chatter.

Shockwave would call you to his lab to talk to him.

If you're not busy he likes the company, yet he's another one who isn't very emotive or open about his attraction to you.

He just appears selfish at times but does like to confide in you.

Decepticons often can't trust each other but you're one he appreciates.

The two like you in their own way as a Decepticon, things only really go down hill when they catch on to each other.

The two hate each other.

Even more so when they realize the other has feelings for you.

So this isn't corrupting a good relationship, no...

This is making an already bad relationship worse.

The two are competitive, similar to how they were when Megatron offered the position to replace Starscream.

They'd sabotage the other no matter how destructive.

They'd probably even use their power over you to make you listen to them.

Shockwave keeps a closer eye on you with little turrets on the walls.

Meanwhile Soundwave goes out of his way to occupy your time and destroy any turret he finds.

I also wouldn't put it past Shockwave to put extra trackers on you.

The Cyberverse iterations of these Decepticons are rather petty towards each other.

They'd taunt one another, everything is a competition.

A challenge to see who can make the next move....

Meanwhile you just want to get your work done fo appease Megatron.

You don't really want to be involved with either of them.

Romantic relationships for Cybertronians happens, but they're unnecessary.

Shockwave tries to make things convincing by saying you're one of the only Decepticons he can tolerate, you'd two would be compatible.

Soundwave tries to either order you away from Shockwave's lab or convince you that Shockwave isn't loyal.

Soundwave's loyal. You can trust him to have your back.

I imagine the two could be rather violent towards each other.

Fights between them are either left alone or broken up by Megatron.

When it comes to Decepticons it's a pecking order.

You've got to fight for power.

Fights are normal for Decepticons, except this isn't for power.

This is over you... a partner they don't even technically need.

Before they can scrap one another they're stopped.

However if left unattended I can see the two nearly putting each other out of commission.

Now just some food for thought, imagine a dissenting darling?

You used to agree with Megatron and now you don't.

Obviously you try to hide it until you can strike a deal with the Autobots.

But Soundwave and Shockwave will know.

Soundwave's response would be to immediately keep you near him, in a way he's detaining you.

You needing constant surveillance gives him the excuse to watch over you.

He may even convince you to stay a Decepticon if he forces you into something with him.

Shockwave would be "tamer" than Soundwave.

He understands, he himself has wished Megatron would do better.

If anything now he thinks you share some beliefs.

Which is only another excuse to make you and him a partnership.

Here's another way a rivalry could world.

Cybertronian doesn't just mean Decepticons.

You could be an Autobot too.

The two would constantly try to track your whereabouts in an attempt to capture you.

I imagine when they take you prisoner that's when obsession starts.

Soundwave would be one to try to immediately break and brainwash you.

He'll rewrite what makes you an Autobot and make you a Decepticon...

Even better, he'll make you his.

Shockwave is also one who likes the idea of breaking you.

He wants to experiment on you yet also give you Stockholm Syndrome.

The two would still fight if they realized they were falling for you, an Autobot prisoner.

They both wish to make you fall for them as their little puppet, yet fight to see who gets to keep you.

The two spilling Energon is common.

No matter what type of Cybertronian you are you find it unnerving.

The two least emotive Decepticons? The most cruel soldiers of Megatron? Fighting over your attention?

Impossible... right?

If one of them manages to scrap the other it's impressive yet also an issue.

They will either lose their doctor or a second in command.

The victor won't really care.

After all, they finally won't have to fight with an inferior rival anymore.

Plus... they have you, their most precious Conjunx Endura

[wyrm-with-a-why]

How is Starscream in every single persons tag like dude fucking go somewhere /neg

[withoutalice]

Just literally found a Furai Starscream kit on clearance for $8-

[bones4thecats]

Tfa Autobots fearing J reader, would be Optimus, Bee, Starscream and Jazz, also J reader is part of the elite guard

TFA Fearing the Murder Drones J! Reader

Characters: Optimus Prime, Bumblebee, Starscream, and Jazz (Transformers Animated) Requester: @zinnia1506 A/N: These are short due to lack of many ideas, but I do hope you like it otherwise. ⚠️ Spoilers/Trigger Warnings for: Nothing bad ⚠️

Disclaimer: This contains zero spoilers for the show Murder Drones

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Optimus Prime ══════════════════════════╝

⚔️ You scared this guy a lot. No other words.

⚔️ Known for your slight arrogance and obvious workaholic nature, all that had energon flowing through their cables knew that you were not someone to mess with under any circumstances

⚔️ Optimus was surprised to see you come out of the Steelhaven with your two fellow Elite Guard members, Velocity and Nickel, and the other two guards, Sentinel Prime and Jazz, along with your leader, Ultra Magnus

⚔️ It was when Starscream lunged at Ultra Magnus that you merely blasted him away, a cocky smile appearing on your face as you criticized him

"You're pathetic. Going at someone from behind? Just shows how much weaker the Decepticon cause has gotten in the past many cycles."

⚔️ Now he understood Sari when they first showed up on Earth...

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Bumblebee ═════════════════════════════╝

🐝 Bee admired, yet was scared of you, when you came in during one of his classes with your fellow teammates, Velocity and Nickel, behind you. You tried teaching them fighting skills, only to fail with Bee's idiocy

🐝 You glared at him as he tried stinging Nickel, he may be a weaker member of the Elite Guard, but he could be useful. Sometimes...

🐝 Nodding at Velocity, she smiled sadistically, jumping in with her servos transformed into multiple spinning-blades. She then attacked Bee, making him panic and run

🐝 Sentinel scoffed as you looked at him, your head tilted slightly to ask him what was wrong

"This Guard is getting weaker by the cycle... I swear..."

"Completely agree with you there, Sent'."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Starscream ════════════════════════════╝

💫 You were one of the best Autobot fighters, and when you saw Starscream aim his blasters at Ultra Magnus, you just snapped into work-mode

💫 Jumping up, you spread your wings, flapping them to push you towards the Decepticon as he looked at you in shock

💫 Your long tail emerged and wrapped around his neck, causing him to fly into the air with you while the others observed. Sentinel, Jazz, and Ultra Magnus just sighed as you inserted your tail's tip in the 'Bots neck, injecting him with acid

💫 He wailed in pain as you scoffed and kicked him away. Starscream then stood up shakily whilst yelling about how he'd find you and make you pay sometime

"Go ahead, 'Screamy. I'd love to hear that squeaky voice of yours scream in pain as I tear your wings apart."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Jazz ═════════════════════════════════╝

🎷 Jazz liked being around you, but he had to admit, you could be quite scary despite your seemingly-polite front

🎷 This was proven when you grew tired of listening to Velocity and Sentinel argue. You slammed your servo against the panel, wrapping your tail around the two 'Bots before slamming them into the nearby desktop

"If you two don't shut your intakes, I'll shut them for you. Capiche?"

🎷 The two nodded erratically as you let them go, throwing a datapad at Nickel before walking out of the control room. No doubt you were going to train your heart out against a dummy

🎷 The white mech just watched with slightly widened optics and a nervous demeanor as you walked away, thankful that he wasn't the center of your anger

[weenwrites]

Cooking A Meal: Part 2

Summary - You ask one of the cons to cook you a meal, but honestly it goes about as well as you'd expect. Characters - Megatron, Shockwave, Starscream, Soundwave, Dreadwing, Knockout, Breakdown, Airachnid, Predaking, Darksteel, Skylynx Content - Crack Category - Headcanons Trigger Warnings - None

✎ A/N: This is an un-revised shitpost, not something too serious.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Megatron

Don't even bother having him try to cook you something, he can't cook at all. More often than not he'll just send some vehicon off to fetch you a meal, but when he's actually put in a kitchen and told to cook a meal, he'll probably serve you a plate of charred... Stuff.

It reeks and honestly you can't even tell what it used to be. The most he knows about cooking is that humans always heat up their food. He doesn't know how cooked a piece of meat or a slice of bread has to be, and despite knowing how useful patience is, he can't bring himself to wait a couple minutes for a slice of bread to turn golden brown.

Even with some instructions he doesn't understand a single word on that page. What does "fold in the cheese" even mean?! All in all, the food tastes awful, the presentation is awful, and it's not even a nice experience, he somewhat cleans his mess, but still, it's an awful experience. Even your local fast food restaurant would serve something better than what he could make you.

Shockwave

He wouldn't be too bad at cooking... However the meal he's served you is most likely made from some artificial substitute... It's not bad, per say, and it has a higher nutritional value than everything in your kitchen combined, but... He didn't stand in a kitchen to make it, he stood in a lab and fabricated it. That aside, it's plain and has a bit of a weird taste, the presentation sucks, and it's not naturally made, it was fabricated in a laboratory. It counts as science. Not cooking. So nevermind, he'd be bad at cooking.

But if he were to cook, he'd get into the technicalities of all, and spout food science facts at you. He'd tell you all about how proteins in meat force out moisture through coagulation, and that's how meat cooks. Or how amino acids and simple sugars are rearranged to change the color of meat as it cooks. Unless you know about food science yourself, all it may sound like some scientific garble to you. Whether you implore him to continue or not is all up to you.

But just because he knows about the chemical composition of a cracker doesn't mean he knows how to make things taste good. He chooses things based on their nutritional value, not their taste. Everything from meal portions, to seasonings, to even the temperature it was cooked at is all carefully measured to ensure that you're getting your healthy fill of nutrients. He doesn't even allow you to season it afterwards, because any more seasoning would disturb the healthy balance.

Still, while it may be nutritious, it certainly isn't delicious, but at least it's 100% edible and extremely healthy.

Starscream

He didn't know humans cooked their food, he thought they just ate it as is. So you'll have to explain a lot of stuff to him before either of you actually get anywhere. But once he gets the basics down, he'll be off to a rough, yet good start!

He's very particular about the way things are organized in a kitchen, and he'll get real annoyed if you moved something like a spatula or a spoon he was using. He's sorta set up this organization system in the kitchen that works specifically for him and no one else. While it may look like a mess on the outside, it works really well for him.

He'd never touch raw meat, even if it were to cook for you. He just hates the feeling, so you'd basically have no luck at getting him to scrub a chicken down with salt and seasoning unless you gave him a pair of gloves or a brush. But even if he's a bit squeamish, he's very thorough with his work, and very patient too. But he does complain about how long it takes for things to prepare things and then cook.

Might be a bit burnt here, and a bit bland over there, but if you pick some parts out and sprinkle some salt, pepper, spice, or hot sauce on it, it makes for a solid-ish meal! Which is pretty impressive, given the fact he once knew nothing about cooking a few hours ago.

Soundwave

They're actually a really good chef, better than everyone else, that's for sure. Soundwave knows where and how to learn what he needs to know, so it wouldn't take long for him to research and grasp the bare bones of cooking. And after a couple of tries, they could definitely whip you up a 5 star meal that tastes like something the best chef in the world would make.

It's almost scary how fast he learns, but hey at least you're getting like one of the best meals in the world using cheap ingredients from your fridge. Like who knew ketchup could taste so good in place of fancy marinara sauce!

And because of the amazing meal he made, it's without a doubt that he is the undisputed best chef aboard the Nemesis and everybody else's skills immediately pale in comparison. If it were a competition, it would've been over the moment they joined.

Dreadwing

Like almost everyone on this list, he has no idea what to do, and he has no idea what humans eat, so it ends up being a bit of a lecture before he actually starts cooking. It might take him a bit, and he'll stumble here and there, but he's always quick to ask good questions to ensure he has a solid grasp on what he needs to do.

He's quick to pick up anything you teach him, like about cutting vegetables, or seasoning meals, temperature, et cetera. And in a while, he's able to follow a recipe rather well, only occasionally coming to you to ask a question about what "folding" or "basting" or "al dente" means.

He'd serve you a pretty solid meal all in all. But on the off-chance that what he made for you had caused you to get sick, he'd immediately and sincerely apologize to you, and most likely never make you a meal ever again.

Knockout

He has some knowledge around human cooking thanks to the internet, and it helps the slightest bit, but for the most part he'll be bugging you with all his questions about human cuisine and cooking.

And all the while he's cooking, he'll ask you to fetch him things like that kitchen knife over there, or that measuring cup—no, not that one. That one was used for wet ingredients, he needs the other one that was used for dry ingredients, now chop chop. The clock's ticking. Or he'll holler at you to come and help hold the bowl as he scrapes the mixture into another pan.

Surprisingly, the kitchen actually remains rather nice and orderly throughout it all. He fills your sink with water and just leaves the dirty dishes in there to soak, and cleans messes the instant they're made, which greatly helps with clean-up afterward! But he won't touch the dishes. He just hates the feeling of scrubbing grimy food off, so you're on your own unless you give him a pair of gloves.

But as for the food itself? It's... Semi-decent! He may have burned it a little, or messed up one of the steps, but it still tastes good and it's still edible. He even decorates it nicely! He'd chop any vegetables into cute little shapes, and he has a good eye for presentation. So it's pretty nice.

Breakdown

He doesn't know anything about human cooking. He does question where the heck human food comes from though, and the most he knows is that humans consume other organisms, which he finds really weird. So in the beginning, the whole cooking session might be more of an educational session than anything, but only so he understands what humans can eat and what he should be doing.

He technically doesn't do any cooking since he just makes you things like instant noodles or instant mac n' cheese. But he'll need a bit of supervising because with the noodles, he'll put the seasoning packet in the water while the noodles are cooking, and then drain the noodles because he thought that the noodles would absorb the flavor (same goes for the mac n' cheese), but it turns out that the cheese water just goes down the drain. So it technically isn't completely his fault that the food may taste off (because instant food doesn't always taste that good...) but he does mess some of the steps up which contributes to that.

But with a little guidance here, and a little trial and error there, he'll actually be able to whip up something pretty decent using the instant stuff as a base! He'll add things like chopped up vegetables or spice for some flavor in some instant ramen, or cook the macaroni in milk and add some mustard for mac n' cheese, or perhaps crack an egg and add some garlic into some insta-soup.

All in all, it's a pretty solid meal for his first time cooking. But does it really technically count as cooking if he used an already pre-made thing to make it?

Airachnid

If she didn't care about you as much as she does, she would've fed you something poisonous if she didn't ignore your request first. She's... A questionable cook... To say the least, but one thing's for sure, all the meat she uses in her cooking is fresh. And I mean fresh as in "she dragged that animal into the kitchen and slaughtered it on the spot" kind of fresh, which is ideal if you're eating something that requires super fresh meat like oysters.

She doesn't burn the food, but she most likely under-cooks it. As for seasoning, well, she doesn't add any, so whatever you're eating will need a whole lot of salt, pepper, and spices either to taste like something, or to distract from the horrible taste the food already has.

But while the food may taste weird, the presentation's interesting. It's something of an art, made from something you don't even think you can call "food" anymore, but it's interesting to look at.

All in all, the food tastes horrible, the presentation's neat, and you're 100% guaranteed to get food poisoning if you scarf the entire meal down (which you won't, the stench is bad enough to kill even flies).

Predaking

He can't cook at all—actually, he doesn't even know what humans eat, so you'll have to explain to him quite a lot. Even then, he'll probably just bring you a dead animal and assume that's enough. You'll actually have to lecture him on cooking meat, preparing ingredients, and whatnot. So this whole thing turns into a cooking lesson as opposed to doing actual cooking.

He soaks all that knowledge up like a sponge, and with his newfound knowledge of cooking he's able to make something relatively decent for you, if not leaning more towards mediocre! The meal is something simple, probably from a cookbook you have at your house (or on the internet...)

All in all, while it's below average, it's probably above-par by your standards, given the fact you just taught him how to cook a hot second ago. The presentation is simple, the food actually tastes good, so all in all it's a pretty average meal.

Darksteel

Surprise, surprise! He is the worst cook out of them all. And here you might have thought that Predaking or Airachnid would've been the worst, but nope. It's him. He'd most likely burn your kitchen down, if not trash everything you have, and waste everything you have in your fridge. The best he does is bring you a dead animal that he "cooked" by spewing fire at it. Then again it's most likely either overcooked or undercooked and would definitely give you trichinellosis, E. coli, BSE, salmonella, or whatever other horrible disease you risk contracting by eating what he's served you.

But what about vegetables? He doesn't even know what a vegetable is, and unless you give him a really thorough description of what counts as a vegetable or not, he'd most likely just uproot a tree or pluck a bush out from the ground and give it to you, mildly scorched, because he remembered that you have to cook it.

If you were to ask him about presentation, he'd probably pose the scorched cattle or chicken he got his claws on, set the crisp "vegetables" upright, and think that's good enough "presentation".

Bottom line? Do not eat anything he gives you, it'll absolutely destroy your stomach.

Skylynx

Yeah he doesn't want to. He'd hate cooking so much because everything takes so long to do! He's sensible enough to do some research and learn, or ask you questions for clarification, but waiting for water to boil just drives him crazy.

He tries to work diligently and be patient, but you might catch him cutting corners a little bit. How so? Well, he'd raise the temperature of the stove to get something to cook faster, or if he needs to carefully ground something into a poultice, he'll just smush it into paste. If you're having something simple like mashed potatoes, then he has absolutely no problem preparing that.

He doesn't pay much attention to how it looks, so while the food he serves looks unappetizing as he straight up slaps it onto your plate, it actually tastes pretty decent... Ish... Decent-ish. Sure your food may have come out a bit burnt, or you might find some weird chunks in it, but it's better than what Darksteel has to offer, that's for sure.

[djhashtageditz]

I’m just gonna say this real quick. Starscream and Twitch aren’t a father daughter duo (no not cause Hashtag has him) but that there was no actual connection between them at all, sure Starscream saved Twitch and she hugged him but let’s not forget that Starscream’s life was on the line so he had to help. Twitch was also the one who thinks of Megatron as an all good guy and says that Starscream is all bad for leaving his seekers behind, disregarding everything Megatron has done. From an outside perspective (or just my perspective), Twitch looked like she only cared when Starscream came to help and not when he was triggered enough to vent.

So there, I don’t think they’re a good parent/child duo when there is little to no care between them.

Spoilers

Also, the fact that we see Starscream and his seekers actively going after every Malto and them attacking him back except for Hashtag. Starscream and the Maltos do not care for one another they have no connection/bond whatsoever. Legit the only character who has a connection with him, he isn’t after. Like in the promo Starscream was attacking Mo and her siblings and and in the trailer Mo went after Starscream.