#Until Trep came. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pyroweasel · 3 years

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Taddison with Fames cause I wanna see what you do with that :)

👉👉

CW for...hunting, I guess? Lots of prey/blood/biting/etc sort of talk.

Takes place in the Trep and Trepper universe - I'll probably throw it on as a new chapter to the Pup series here in a bit.

Trep lets Addison live longer than is likely proper. The excuses are easy to come by - he's still healing, he's not at his prime, Trepper is clearly attached to the human - but eventually the excuses fall away, and Trep turns instead to not thinking about it. There is time yet, plenty of it in fact, before they get to Earth. There's no harm in letting the human live a little longer - especially as he's so willing to babysit in the meanwhile.

Trep thinks he may even let Addison live until they very nearly land - at least, he considers it, right up until he realizes the bodies they feed on have turned. It's Trepper who clues him in - the whelp seems to pick up the subtle scent of rot first, and even he refuses to eat spoiled flesh.

There are ways around it, of course. They can both live just fine off of the humans' meals - and now with so few mouths to feed, there are plenty of extra rations. MREs are not nearly so satisfying, though, and it's difficult to imagine living off of them when there remains fresh meat.

Days tick by where they try it, anyway - but Trepper is unhappy and if Trep is honest he's not much better off himself. He grows hungry, and then ravenous, and it's not so much about the sustenance as it is about the sensations. There is nothing satisfying about badly packed, disgusting 'meat' that might make you sick if you're unlucky - it is nothing like hunting. Sinking teeth into fresh, still moving flesh. Ripping, tearing - it torments Trep.

When it becomes too much, he decides he's had enough. There comes a night where Trep settles Trepper down as usual and then, once the child is deeply asleep, Trep slips away.

He finds Addison quickly enough, of course, but he's not willing to give the game up so quickly. So, Trep hunts - he follows the human about as Addison finishes up a few wayward tasks. Trep slips through the vents, along the hallways, watches from corners.

He can tell when Addison realizes something's wrong - whether it's because of Trep's absence or some human prey instinct. The man's pulse spikes, anxiety thickens the air - it makes Trep's blood pound in turn, his hearts speed in anticipation of the kill.

Trep makes his move as Addison strides in a quickened pace down the hallway to his quarters. The Impostor leaps from a nearby vent and lunges - he pins Addison to the wall, the human's front pressed to the metal, and keeps him trapped there with claws and tentacles and sheer strength.

Wordlessly, Addison fights - and Trep is taken off guard by the human"s ferocity. It's not enough to move Trep, of course - he has already had his fun and now that his prey is caught, he isn't interested in playing around. He is stronger, by far, than Addison - and it is easy to keep the man pinned. Still, it's impressive just how much strength Addison brings to bear.

Trep can't stop a slight curve in his lips as the human thrashes beneath him.

"Get the fuck off of me," Addison finally finds his voice, and in response Trep hums.

"Sorry Captain, no can do," he answers, even as he shifts a little closer, eyes finding the back of Addison's neck. "For what it's worth, you might be the only human I've ever really found pleasant to be around. Still, I'm starving - and unfortunately for you, you're the only meal left around."

"We had a deal," Addison spits. He kicks back with a leg, and Trep growls softly as it connects rather solidly with a knee. As if in retort, Trep's abdominal maw parts, drool gathers in anticipation - but even as he lowers the mouth in his face towards Addison's neck, he can't help but banter in return.

"More fool you for trusting an Impostor," Trep murmurs. He parts his jaws, turns his head, and latches them around the back of Addison's neck. He presses, slightly, and as he does he feels Addison go all at once still as stone - except for his pulse, which is racing so quickly it's hard to separate the beats from each other. Trep feels a thrill at the way it races beneath his teeth.

All it would take is one clean bite. Simple. Efficient. A quick death, even, for a human Trep reluctantly admired. And yet.

Yet.

Trep finds himself struck nearly as still as Addison. Flesh is almost broken beneath his teeth but - not quite. Blood rushes at the surface of Addison's skin, but does not yet flood Trep's mouth. Flesh, prey, a real meal - it is at his mercy but still Trep can't move.

Beneath the bitter, salty scent of fear there is something else. Something familiar, although Trep hasn't ever put a name to it before. It is Addison - a scent unique to the human, a scent that has invaded more of Trep's surroundings than he has realized. A scent that, through the bloodlust and the hunger, registers as familiar. Important.

Safe.

Trep growls, but despite his urging his teeth do not clamp any further. Addison trembles - it and his stillness the only outward signs of fear the human has shown. Because Addison is strong. Addison, who looked an injured and violent Impostor in the eye and still helped him. Addison, who only held on and did his best to calm the small Impostor desperate to hurt him.

Addison, who sings to Trepper when he thinks they're alone. Who treats the boy like his own. Who speaks to Trep like an equal - banters with him in a way he has never experienced before.

Trep is ravenous, wants nothing more than something fresh and alive to fill his stomach. To feed his child.

But this is Addison.

And Trep can't do it.

His teeth loosen, he relinquishes his many grips. He steps away, suddenly more unsure than he has ever been in his life. His hearts still pound, but their beat feels different now. His blood still runs hot, but he thinks it must be for another reason.

Then Addison looks over his shoulder - dark eyes full of confusion meet Trep's.

And the Impostor turns and flees back the way he came, all at once panicked by a new and strange sort of hunger that he just doesn't understand.

#Trep stop biting Addison challenge #Pyro writes #Trep and Addison #Taddison #Prompt game #Thank you for doing exactly what I'd hoped 💕#The Taddison was a little bit of a surprise but it was really nice to write them again #Ambathy #This was perfect actually cause I've been trying to figure out how to do this shift from like #I'm still gonna kill this human oops I'm attached actually #So this was greay #Fought for a bit to decide if I was gonna do soft or dark or dark sauce but this was a good compromise imo

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illogicalshockwave · 7 years

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Something i’ve been thinking about after updating myself with @mnemoiisms backstory for their Trepan.

Trepan’s recovery after being shot.

Blackness.

They say that when your spark finally extinguishes that an afterlife lies beyond it with the god who gave you shape in the waking world which you once roamed but it had been a lie. Primus...

He was dead. He had finally been offlined; the thought occurred to him dully, like looking at the rippling surface of water from the underneath and not being able to quite grasp the image it reflected back. He was dead, greyed out and a mass of vaporised plastics and metal from the canon of a leader he should of finished the job of back on Messentine.

Trepan couldn't even muster the energy to feel anything in response, this was a world of nothingness now. He couldn't understand even if he wanted to.

Only he wasn't quite done yet.

White hot agony made the surgeon scream out into the nothingness he knew but there was no sound- no frame to contort and so he endured as this feeling persisted until that too vanished into the void again. Trepan was alone again, and still he dwelled in the infinite reaches of a realm that had no explanation nor comprehension. His thoughts however were clearer now, both echoing around for miles and yet silent in nature. Wherever that pain had gone, it had left behind a sense of clarity. He could think and understand, but not the blackness. He could think about his last moments but that made the pain flash so he chose to remember Messentine.

The clinic, the strict schedule and rules so tight nobody else but himself and a few others could navigate with ease. The institute, and with a vague sense of dread, what had lead to this. Overlord. The name was repulsive and bitter, nearly as bitter as the other one but this he could tolerate.

Then the pain returned- blistering and he was screaming again only the white hotness invaded his vision and suddenly Trepan wasn't suspended in darkness anymore and he was writhing, vocals glitching and heaving as at last he could hear again. He could only scream, but from the lack of moving he was restrained, this much the surgeon knew.

Whatever had happened, he had been revived from the certainty of death somehow and his frame was not complying to his wishes. He must of been screaming for hours, tugging and snarling at restrains as the sudden snap back to reality came to take its toll. Somewhere in the background a lab full of scientists worked stoically, restructuring the small mnemosurgeons frame and injecting lines, IV dripping with essential fluids which kept him from dipping back into the oblivion.

A conversation continued unaffected between a purple warframe and a scientist turned medic. "The cost does not matter. I am doing this to see if I can."

Trepan wasn't sure what he preferred, eternal nothingness or this noisy chaotic hell he had been thrust into but frag if it made him focus on what mattered. Living. Surviving, by any method possible.

Eventually despite his fight he did fall back, but only through being forced and even then through the tears and the choked sobs of demands for help (not cries, he was not that weak) he held the unfocused gaze of the doctors as he slipped away again. For once, he welcomed oblivion. The next trip into consciousness was still painful but not enough to scream. He became aware someone was speaking directly to him, asking questions over and over until finally he responded.

"De-sig... Nation... Trep-an. Occupa-ti-on. Mne-e-emosurg-ge...on." Whoever asked seemed pleased, shifting in their seat by the sound of it. Trepan didn't dare look up, he was already shaking from the physical exertion not to break his vocalizer from use again. His voice was glitching and strained, and thank primus they didn't ask more questions but whoever it was talking was no longer speaking to him. Instead his frame entered a state of complete and utter numbness, a stasis without the recharge making his antennae slump on the medical berth he was still restrained against and the tense bowing arch of his spinal strut follow in a similar fashion. His vision wavered but the sudden best of both worlds had him unknowingly giggly, smiling to himself as the world continued to progress around him.

It was a constant after that, answer things right and he would receive treatment to numb his pain, and when that progressed he was told to move now unrestrained limbs while lying on his back. Bit by bit Trepan focused, understanding that this was physical and mental therapy for someone who had sustained damage thought unrepairable.

He was easing his frame into moving, but not his spinal cord and he wasn't oblivious as to why. He had done this for others before, and he now knew what the blackness was from before. After the blast it had somehow not hit his spark directly and instead his casing and armour took the brunt. Whoever had found him had severed the connection of his brain module and spark and relocated them in an artificial chamber until his frame was mostly repaired-

Mostly.

His armour had melted together, tubing and chevron unsightly and horribly marred for all to see, once spectacular and immaculate white now scorched a permanent tar colour. Articulation had to be completely redone and even now his joints still grinded against one another, and his back was still completely immobile but his fragile spark was stable. The sudden burst into reality and the screaming had been from the first reconnection of his mind and essence, doctors needing him awake and able to feel to confirm the operation was a success.

Moving his back was the next challenge, accepting the support of doctors despite his ego and holding on for dear life as they lifted the berth upright with himself still strapped down on it. He was standing- actually standing, but still pressed firmly in place. He let them handle him like a doll, did what he was told because despite internal hatred brewing all directed at his useless state someone had saw fit to give him a second chance. He didn't plan on wasting it, not when there was a helm marked for surgery that had yet to heed its call.

Many months later, Trepan walked with ease again. He had been released on medical leave, the institute more than happy to give their top mnemosurgeon time to recover after their unending loyalty to them, but it had all been with the unnerving knowledge that he was on a timer. His spark lacked the innermost energon that once surrounded it and had grown weaker with its absence than it already had before- he needed material for his spark too but those kinds of things even the institute had no hand in. Frames were plentiful but the energon and spark needed to remain untouched. And so he was faced with a timer, and the ever growing hunger for revenge.

Revenge against life, revenge against the hand he had been dealt. Revenge against him.

So as Trepan sat up from his berth, blinds letting slats of artificial daylight in to slant across his once mangled now less so frame, he steepled his digits together and for the first time since the incident let the needles in each digit tip pressurise and extend. Each one was menacing and could pierce through armour inches thick after he invested in an upgrade. Most of his sick pay had gone towards it and the new set of plating to cover his melted protoform but it had been worth it. A terrible idea most foul entered his mind and a slow sinister smile stretched out across his faceplates.

If the world was going to rip out his spark and innermost, and leave him with nothing...

He was just going to take someone else's.

#aka #trepan's cannable origin story #trepan #mnemoiisms #synopsis of the past (fiction)#maccadam #transformers #au where trepan lives #mtmte #fan fiction #idw #tw #disassociation #intense pain #all that good stuff

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pyroweasel · 3 years

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For the writing prompt!! Chosen via random numbergenerator! !31 Fluff, 16 Angst, and 48 general! :D even just one would b awesome!! Didnt know what kinda writing mood ur in

I'm gonna do the Fluff 31 ('I'm never going to leave you, I promise.') for now, but I've got the others written down to maybe do later. Thank you! Also, fair warning - this isn't much fluff. Definitely more angst. CW for major character death and sad baby.

Within the universe of Trep, Trepper, and Addison - but not canon to it. Just an AU type deal

"He attacked me," Black pants, one hand over the bleeding wound at his side, the other still shakily holding his gun. The others might have argued, might have considered Black the murderer - if not for Trep's quickly cooling, clearly inhuman body on the ground in front of them. As the others clamor amongst themselves, Addison can't quite get himself to join in. Has eyes only for the body in front of him.

It is…right. Better this way. Because Addison knows damn well that Black's story is true. Trep had aimed at Black and - well. Black had been armed, and they'd fought back. Play stupid games, so on and so forth. Addison has felt uneasy about Trep's job from the start - has known all along, really, that he'd not gotten through to the Impostor. What would Addison have done if Trep's attack had succeeded? Ignored it?

No. He couldn't have. He couldn't have trusted the Impostor after that, couldn't have just let Trep get away with it. Addison has to believe he is a better person than that.

No matter what…strange feelings he'd had for the Impostor.

It's better this way.

It doesn't make it any easier, though, for Addison. It sure doesn't make it any easier later, either, when he has to sit down with Trepper and try to explain to the hatchling what has happened. Harder to do, still, when Trep's body had been ejected and Addison can't even show Trepper what he means.

Trepper doesn't get it - Addison can see it clear as day. Trepper is confused, and upset, and he -

He wants Trep. He cries for Trep, calls for him - would wander the ship in search, if Addison let him.

It takes Addison a lot of effort to keep himself from crying at the sight.

It helps a little when the others start to debate about Trepper - because then, Addison has to fight for the hatchling. And he does fight - tells each and every one of them exactly what he'd think of anyone callous enough to eject a child. Shames them, something he's always been good at, until the subject is dropped. None of them want to be around Trepper - they're afraid of him, nervous - but they don't bother him. Or Addison.

And, eventually, Trepper seems to understand that Trep is not coming back.

He stops crying for his father - but for a time, he becomes quiet and despondent and Addison goes through desperate measures just to make sure that this kid, who usually eats everything in sight, eats enough to keep him nourished.

He becomes clingy, next. He refuses to let Addison out of his sight, and demands to be always in the Captain's arms. It makes work difficult, near impossible - but Addison can't dredge up anything but apologies and sorrow for the small Impostor. He obliges, as much as he can, and when he can't he always does his best to keep a hand on Trepper's head, or a leg within grabbing distance.

Then, one night, there is a late emergency. Addison is there before he can think of it, spends an hour or more stabilizing and then fixing the Oxygen system. It leaves him irritated and tired, but all that fades when he returns to his quarters only to hear Trepper all but wailing at the closed door. Addison is quick to hurry in and scoop the tiny Impostor up - and the way Trepper clings to him very nearly shatters him all over again.

"It's okay, it's okay," Addison hushes as he crosses over to sit on the edge of his bed. Trepper sobs, and Addison feels the pinch of teeth at the suit of his shoulder. "I've got you, you're alright," Addison murmurs as he pats at Trepper's back - the child's wails quiet, but he continues to sniffle and whine.

"Gone," Trepper whimpers after a moment, and with a grimace, Addison closes his eyes.

"I know kiddo," Addison responds, "but it was only for a little bit, wasn't it? I came right back."

Treppers answer is another, almost high-pitched whine. Addison bounces him softly against his shoulder, hums softly under his breath - it takes time to get through to the baby, but eventually Trepper settles down a little once more.

"I know it's scary, when you can't see me," Addison says softly a bit later, once Trepper's soft cries have faded again. "I'll always come right back, though. I'm never going to leave you, okay? I promise."

Addison doesn't think Trepper quite believes it - and after Trep, Addison can hardly blame the hatchling. Still, for the moment he seems more content as, with one last soft whine, Trepper snuggles in close. He's asleep soon after, and Addison lets out a breath and wonders if it's too early to think about retirement.

#Pyro writes #Trep #Trepper #Addison #Prompts #Thank you btw~#Moonmadeofink #I hate making minis sad #Gonna go do real fluff to make up for it

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pyroweasel · 3 years

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another writing drabble idea:

addison’s first impression of trep when he first meets him (before knowing hes an alien & trusts him as a normal crewmate) and maybe little things trep did that made addison have a small crush on him/become more fond of him?

This one got away from me a little - both in length, and the fact that it ended up more as Addison's point of view of their first journey together. I did still try to incorporate interactions between them, though, so I hope you'll enjoy! Thank you for the idea! :)

Addison had been a captain for a number of years, now, and by all accounts this crew was…average. Not especially experienced, but hardly green - a mix that could prove easy to work with, so long as they were at least competent.

As Addison sat at the meeting table and swept his gaze over the lot, he also considered the worst case scenario. He always did - or, at least, had done so since the first time one of his crews had been infiltrated by an Impostor. It never got easier, though - even now, he just couldn't imagine any of this crew, all of which were chatting amicable among themselves, being bloodthirsty monsters.

"Are you going to be giving introductory remarks anytime soon, Captain?" The drawled voice came from his side, and curiously Addison turned his head to look. A man in a cyan suit was sitting there, and he had his helmet resting casually in a palm, visor turned in Addison's direction. At the rather bold question, Addison felt an eyebrow raise - even if the other couldn't see it.

"Have some patience," Addison responded, "I thought you would all appreciate the chance to talk amongst yourselves and get settled in."

"It's been a long ascent, I'm sure what we would all appreciate is being free to rest."

"Are you telling me how to do my job?"

At that, Cyan lifted his head from his hand - and even through the impenetrable glass of his visor, Addison was sure the other man was giving him a calculating and possibly scathing look.

"Do I have to?"

For the principle of the matter, Addison turned his attention away from Cyan, and let the conversation around them continue for a few minutes. Only then did Addison stand and draw the crew's attention. His spiel was the usual thing - a welcome, an explanation of the various parts of the Skeld, task assignments, and of course the implementation of the buddy system.

Addison wasn't sure what he was bringing on himself when he requested that Cyan be his own buddy - but, somehow, it seemed the obvious choice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Addison slipped the headset from his head and blinked as his eyes failed to readjust to the bright lights of Weapons. It took him a few long seconds to realize that was because there weren't any lights to adjust to - the room around him was pitch black. Frowning, Addison set the headset down and got to his feet. He turned towards the door - and immediately came to a standstill when he was suddenly face to face with Cyan.

Addison didn't jump, but his heart caught low in his throat. The other was standing there in the darkness, looking at him - they'd briefly split so Cyan could finish a task in Navigations, but Addison hadn't realized the other man had returned. In the dark, Cyan was…imposing, somehow, although the sudden shock of it faded a bit when Cyan tilted his head in curiosity.

"Apologies, Captain, did I startle you?" Cyan asked - and the way his voice lilted in obvious sardonic humor went a long way to easing Addison's oddly fried nerves. Addison let out a huff of a breath.

"Yes, Cyan, most normal people would be startled to find someone lurking in the dark behind them," Addison retorted, "how long have you been there?"

"Not long - the lights went out, so I came to be sure you were alright. Although," Cyan paused and tilted his head, "I guess I should have been more concerned about whether or not you'd died of fright."

"I'm fine," Addison said firmly, "I'm not that easily spooked by the dark, of all things -"

"No, just lurking men," Cyan quipped back, and Addison couldn't help but scowl.

"We need to go see what's going on with the lights. Come along and make yourself useful," Addison said. He sidestepped Cyan as he flicked on the light of his helmet and headed for the door. For a few seconds, Cyan didn't move - but before Addison could turn and see what was going on, he heard Cyan's footsteps fall into line behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And, sure, Pink had a point - it was suspicious that he'd seen Cyan near Shields. Especially as the other had been meant to complete a task in Navigations. Yet Cyan's calm assurance that Pink was either lying or had misremembered the color he'd seen was a stark contrast to Pink's angry, spitting accusation.

Besides - it'd been two weeks. How many opportunities had Cyan had to kill Addison? The answer was too many to count - and that was the assurance Addison gave his team. Addison was still alive - Cyan simply couldn't be the Impostor.

Cyan's clear relief and genuine gratitude - emotions so different from his usual sharp sarcasm - only further reassured Addison that he was right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Addison knew he had to hold it together - his team, what little was left of it, needed him. They had fought Black, had managed to send the alien into space - and, yet, just that day they'd found Purple slit open top to tip. The panic on the ship was heavy and palpable - and Addison's crew needed him. He had to put up the front of competent captain - even though with every death all he really wanted to do was slip into some hole and hide until it was over.

"I think we're all missing a very important possibility," Green said, their voice stiff as they got to their feet. They swept a gaze over the small remaining crew - only five of them now - and then promptly pointed at Addison. "Maybe it's the captain! Maybe it's been him all along!"

Addison grit his teeth and forced back the words he desperately wanted to throw back at the other crewmate. Bit them back, swallowed them away - Green wasn't wrong, after all, they should be considering every possibility. Still, the accusation stung, especially when all Addison had been doing was trying to solve this. To protect them.

"I understand the concern," Addison began, his voice much steadier than he felt, "but I assure you -"

"I've been with Captain Red nearly all this time," Cyan stepped in, his own voice calm and smooth, "I'm confident I would have noticed if he were slipping off and killing the crew. Besides," He paused, and Addison could feel Cyan's gaze on him, "after we found Lime, the Captain very nearly destroyed the card reader in his grief - I can't imagine anyone being able to fake a reaction like that." Cyan stood as well and crossed his arms as he studied Green. "Not to point fingers, Green, but that you would even try to blame the Captain - our best bet at making it out alive - is a bit alarming."

"I'm just saying...we should consider everyone," Green said, immediately cowed as they sat back down. Cyan's answer was a nod as he slipped back into his own seat. Bolstered by the trust of at least one of his crew, Addison took a breath and gave the others their new orders.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Addison was exhausted - all he wanted to do was sleep. He couldn't make himself turn away from the sight ahead of him, though. Cyan was standing at the massive window that lined Navigations - he was staring out at Green's disappearing body, a hand laid heavy on the glass. They had made it - but only they had made it. Surely, Addison thought, that guilt and pain was dragging on Cyan, too.

So Addison called for Cyan, walked up to stand beside the other man, and on a whim reached out to lay a hand on Cyan's shoulder. It said something, Addison thought, that Cyan didn't try and move away. Addison stared out into the abyss of space - but he could feel Cyan's eyes on him.

"Are you doing alright?" Addison asked, and immediately he berated himself for the lackluster, stupid question. Still, Cyan nodded.

"Will be, now. I only wish we'd found the second Impostor before losing so many."

"Agreed," Addison said. He felt the muscle of Cyan's shoulder tense beneath his hand. Worried that he'd upset the other man, Addison hurried ahead. "The ship is on track for home. I think I'll try and sleep the rest of the journey. You'll know where to find me if there are any issues."

"Of course, captain. Rest well." Cyan's response was simple, and short, but Addison thought it genuine.

"Make sure to get some rest, yourself," Addison answered, the words feeling awkward even as they left him. He slipped his hand away from Cyan's shoulder, waited a heartbeat for any more response, and then turned to head for his quarters.

Addison's guilt over the demise of his crew was thick, painful, and nearly all-consuming. It was tempered, though, even if only an infinitesimal bit, by his relief that Cyan, at least, had survived.

#Pyro writes #Pyro drabbles #Mikumadds #Thank you 💕#Trep and Addison

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