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homerforsure · 3 years

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Whumptober No. 6 Bruises / Touch Starved / Hunger Whumptober No. 30 major character death / left for dead / ghosts

Me: I can’t believe I have to post this absolutely incomprehensible piece of writing.

Me: You don’t... have to?

Me: No, I’m gonna.

Buck has an exceptional number of pillows on his bed. There are six, before he knocks a few to the floor every night, and he burrows into them like a nest, curling up with one against his chest, two pressed against his back, one between his legs. His sheets are a ridiculously priced, cool, crisp cotton that welcomes him in, surrounding him. The blankets he uses aren’t weighted, but they’re heavy and thick and he keeps his air conditioning turned up so he doesn’t have to give up the feeling of nestling into them in the heat of summer. Along with the white noise machine on his night stand, all of it is chosen to trick him into sleep. To keep back the feeling that night time in his own apartment is the loneliest part of Buck’s day.

It wasn’t perfect, pre-covid. It’s been a long time since Buck had someone share his space, share his bed, someone he could reach out and touch whenever he wanted. But his life outside of home was full. He didn’t lack for closeness; in some ways he had more than he’d ever dreamed. So while he had lonely moments, they weren’t a constant ache in his chest.

These months though. These months hurt. Facetime isn’t a substitute for curling up on Maddie’s couch with whatever silly-labeled wine she’d liked best that week. It’s definitely not a substitute for Eddie’s couch and losing to Christopher over and over again at Mario Kart. The last time they talked, Eddie had reached over and ruffled Christopher’s hair and Buck felt it. First as a tingle up the back of his scalp and then as a bruise to his heart. Eddie’s touches, so constant and so casual, became essential somewhere along the way and Buck feels himself reaching out for them even when he knows it’s not allowed.

“Six feet, gentlemen,” Bobby says gently when their orbits swing toward each other and Eddie makes a dramatic show of raising his hands and taking a giant step backward. Bobby just shakes his head and reminds them it’s the price they all agreed to pay for not wearing masks in the firehouse.

Buck starts dreading the end of a call when taking off his heavy turnout coat leaves him feeling cold and exposed. He folds into himself, claiming a chair, putting in earbuds and crossing his arms tight over his chest, pulling his knees up even though he knows better than to put his shoes on the furniture.

It’s a similar position to the one he lies in at night, clinging to the pillows, trying to draw comfort out of the smooth fabric. In those moments, his loneliness is so loud it might as well be a beacon sent out into the universe, a burning shout of need.

And that shout is heard.

***

“Have you guys heard of exploding head syndrome?” Buck asks one morning when the calls are slow and the crew is all lingering in a lazy way rather than rushing off to take care of their other duties.

“What, the band?” Chimney asks.

“I think it was an album,” Bobby says.

“No,” Buck sighs. “It’s a sleep thing. It’s this loud noise that you hear when you’re falling asleep like a massively loud explosion. Only it’s just happening in your head.”

“Is your brain actually exploding? Like an aneurism?”

“No. It’s just the noise.”

Just the loudest noise Buck had ever heard. It woke him up with a feeling of abject terror. It was an explosion that didn’t echo. It just rang, clear and true through his eardrums like the end of the world. Even as he struggled out of his sheets, searching for the source so he could run from it, part of him knew it wasn’t a sound that left any physical evidence. What could it even be? A sound like that? An old fashioned safe dropping from two stories up? A car crash without the crunch? Just a high speed collision of two immovable objects, all of the equal and opposite reaction of their momentum forced to escape as sound.

Once his heart rate had slowed, he googled. He wasn’t initially sure what to google. “Ridiculously loud noise woke me up” seemed at once too vague and too specific but sure enough. Exploding Head Syndrome. It was what happened. Obviously. But Buck remained too full of adrenaline to sleep. As he sat up in bed, he couldn’t shake the urge to look around. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. He didn’t feel alone.

“I’m just glad it’s happening in your head instead of mine,” Chim laughs. “Maybe try putting some earmuffs on before you go to sleep tonight.” ***

The sound doesn’t reappear. Buck is relieved, but sleeping doesn’t get any easier. He tries to soothe himself with obscenely long hot baths, by ordering a hoodie that’s more fluff than fabric, by running a foam roller across his muscles, trying to pry them into relaxation. It’s so much work and it does so little. Buck’s entire body is screaming out at all times for a hug or a massage or even just a really fucking good haircut. It takes longer and longer to fall asleep and the little sleep he does get isn’t restful. It’s like whatever meager comfort he manages to give himself during the day is leached away in the night.

He doesn’t even notice the bruises at first. It’s an easy enough thing to miss. Their job is heavy physical labor and Buck barrels through a scene like a one man stampede. Bruises are as common as the smell of smoke in his hair. The ones Eddie points out on his arm though are different.

Buck’s carrying a kitten at the time. The fire they’ve been fighting is beaten back to smolders. Buck shucked off his coat, wet and dripping from the hose and too cold for the shaking animal, and grabbed a blanket from the ambulance to wrap her up and cradle her against his chest. He’s rubbing his face against her damp fur, feeling the softness like a concentrated shot of endorphins when Eddie asks, “What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Buck asks and Eddie’s hands are pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his shoulders while Buck’s trying to hold onto the cat.

“You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?” He’s maybe a little ruder than he means to be but the sleep deprivation makes him cranky and the touch deprivation means that Eddie’s gently probing fingers feel like a dream on his skin. The care in the brush of his hands makes Buck’s knees weak.

“Your arms are bruised to hell,” Eddie says. “Are you- Did someone grab you or something?”

“I swear to god, Eddie. I don’t feel anything.” Except grumpy and exhausted and longing.

“Jesus, it goes all the way up your shoulders. It looks like-” He stops, pulling Buck’s collar aside and tracing a small spot that Buck can’t see even if he turns his head. “They look like fingerprints, Buck. Are you seeing someone?”

“What!”

“These are handprints. And they’re dark. Do you really not-”

Buck wrenches himself from Eddie’s grasp so he can turn around and look at him because if Eddie’s really accusing him of putting everyone at risk by trying to date someone right now… But Eddie’s face is nothing but concerned. Which makes Buck scared.

“Is it really that bad?” he asks, clutching the cat to his chest.

Eddie rubs a hand up Buck’s back (it feels so good, hot like Buck’s t-shirt isn’t even between them and is it just because it’s been so long or just because it’s Eddie?) without looking around to see if Bobby’s watching and that’s really all the confirmation Buck needs. It’s bad.

***

After that, Buck starts to feel them. He wakes up and he can’t breathe. He wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up on the floor. He spends every moment that he’s asleep fighting to wake up. Buck can only remember fragments and pieces of the torment but he knows that it feels like drowning. Like being held down. Like being grabbed and pulled and smothered. He thinks he remembers long dark hair.

Google is useless. Sleep apnea. Sleep paralysis. Sleep terrors. Even sleepwalking. None of them can account for the worst of it. For the physical signs of whatever is happening to him while he sleeps.

Bruises bloom blue on the pale skin of his hips. Purple on his ribs. Green on the back of his neck. The ones that Eddie saw first on his arm fade to yellow. A long scratch runs down the side of his face. Dark circles under his eyes grow darker every day.

“What’s happening to me?” he asks his reflection.

All he wants is to be able to ask that question with someone’s arms around him. He wants anyone to hold him tight and shush his fears and tell him that it’ll be okay.

It’s easier than he thought to hide it. Buck just chooses his shower times strategically and opts for a long sleeve uniform, complaining that he ruined his short sleeves ones by grabbing bleach instead of detergent while he was half asleep.

He’s always half asleep these days.

At least in the bunk rooms, he gets some semblance of rest. Whatever presence he feels in his own bedroom doesn’t cross this threshold and Buck sleeps deeply, almost missing the scream of the alarm.

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” Eddie asks, cornering Buck in the locker room. Buck can’t help but nod and Eddie steps closer as if to touch him.

Buck flinches away and Eddie pulls up short as though hitting an invisible wall.

He breathes Buck’s name on a pained exhale and says, “You have to get some help. Whatever it is…”

“I don’t know what it is!’ Buck answers. “It’s living in my house and it- it- God. Maybe I need an exorcism.”

“Maybe you should come home with me,” Eddie suggests and Buck recoils again.

The firehouse seems safe but there’s no guarantee that Buck won’t be followed anywhere else. He’s desperate to be safe--desperate for Eddie to make him safe--but not at the expense of anyone else. Not when he doesn’t know what he’s facing.

“Okay,” Eddie says. “But call me in the morning.”

***

The burned girl screams louder when she sees Buck than she did while they were putting out the inferno of her car.

“Stay away from me!” She shrieks. “Stay awaystayawaystayaway.”

“Miss, we’re going to need you to calm down,” Hen says to her. “Buck, you wanna move aside? Like preferably somewhere she can’t see you?”

Buck does because the patient’s well-being is more important than anything, but his skin feels like ice. He wants to demand to know what else she sees when she looks at him. Wants to know how she knows. For half a second, he imagines following her to the hospital and waiting for her outside the glass doors.

They aren’t far from her house (52% of accidents happen within five miles of home) and the girl’s father arrives on the scene before they finish prepping her to be transported. And he sees Buck.

He freezes when he does, but at least he doesn’t scream. He ignores Buck completely, instead going to the ambulance where his daughter is still crying and trying to soothe her. Hen offers to let him ride in the ambulance, but he says that he’ll take his car.

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he says, returning to Buck as the ambulance pulls away. “What you summoned… That’s not a normal ghost.”

“I didn’t summon anything! It just happened.” Buck’s voice is high-pitched and he just barely stops himself from grabbing onto the man’s arm, but the man doesn’t seem afraid of Buck the way his daughter was. “What is it? How do I make it go away?”

The man shrugs, “She came in through an open door. Which door depends on the person. But she’ll do everything in her power to keep it pried open. All you can do is try to close it again.”

It is… the least helpful advice Buck’s ever been given in his entire life. But the man’s daughter is on her way to the hospital and he needs to follow her. He vanishes.

***

They’re about to have four days off. Buck’s bracing himself to meet the woman in his dreams. To look around in that dreamspace for open doors and slam them shut again. He can do it. He has to.

***

The next night Buck wakes up and he can’t move. He’s paralyzed on the bed. He’s paralyzed on the bed and someone’s standing at the top of his stairs.

She’s not… right. Buck can’t quite see in the dark and he can’t lift his head but the woman on his stairs isn’t solid in the way a human should be. The outline of her is strong, but it’s like she’s a shell wrapped around a cavernous emptiness. She’s across the room but she’s already pulling at him.

Buck tries to thrash but his arms are pinned as if her hands are already on his wrists. He needs to reach the lamp. If he can just turn on the light.

“Get away from me,” he pleads and the part of her face where lips should be turns up, revealing pointed teeth that stand in front of a void.

“You called me,” she says. The words don’t come from her mouth and Buck doesn’t hear them with his ears. It’s wrong wrong wrong. He throws himself hard to the left and he rolls, flying further than he expected to, suddenly free, and crashes hard into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. It shatters, bulb and all and pain scrapes across Buck’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the ghost mocks. “Poor lonely boy. Just wants someone to touch him. Just wants someone to stay with him. I heard you.”

“No,” Buck says and he tries to scramble, but his feet can’t find purchase on the floor. “I didn’t want you.”

He doesn’t deny the call. Can’t deny it when his heart is reaching out in the same pleading, desperate way now. Please. Anyone.

In the time it takes to blink she’s in front of him. She’s so close. She shouldn’t be able to get that close without standing on him but she’s there. Her voice whispers in his mind, “You should choose your words more carefully.”

And then her hands are around his throat.

The pressure is insistent and her motive is unmistakable. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to squeeze the life out of him. He’s going to die here and Eddie’s going to find his body because Eddie’s going to come rushing over as soon as Buck doesn’t call him in the morning and what if this thing is still here waiting for him.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Buck’s mind yells for him like his lungs did when Eddie was buried except now it’s Buck who’s too far away, who’s trapped somewhere deep and dark with no hope of escape.

He tries to breathe and his breath whistles. It’s like the first time someone handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and he tried to drink through the plastic stir stick. Black stars twinkle in the room and tears build in his eyes.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

There’s a shift as she adjusts her grip and it’s enough for the stars to clear. Buck throws himself forward, shaking his head like he isn’t a ragdoll trapped in the jaws of a rottweiler, like he has a hope of breaking free and then he does. The ghost is thrown off balance and Buck jumps, scrambling back over his bed for the stairs. He can’t even think about defeating her, finding out the secrets of where she came from, closing whatever fucking door he left open. All Buck wants to do is live.

A force behind him swells like a wave to lift Buck off his feet and slams him into the bathroom door. He expects to slide off of it and onto the floor, but he’s held in place hard, his head turned and his cheek pressed to the wood, toes just brushing the ground.

“You begged me to come,” the ghost hisses. “I’m here for you, lonely boy. Don’t fight so hard.”

A hand skims up his back, nearly gentle, but leaving a numbness in its path and Buck shudders in disgust. He jerks against the door, but his arms are wrenched behind him and he screams. He realizes it’s the first time he has.

“I didn’t call you! I don’t want you here! Get out.”

“I came because you needed me.” A long finger trails down his cheek and Buck whimpers. She’s taller than him now. Was she always? “I could feel you from so far away. An aching ball of need. I’m here for you now.”

“I don’t need you,” Buck growls and the room flashes like lightning. He hopes to fall, almost expects to fall, where he can scramble again but instead, Buck is hurled away from the door completely. He has time to see that he’s above the stairs, throw his hands out uselessly and then he’s frozen.

Buck hovers there in the air above the stairs, dangling in the grip of the ghost, like a cat grabbed by his scruff. Kicking wildly, he grabs for the invisible hand that’s holding him, yelling “No, no, no, no.”

“Need me now?” the ghost asks.

Smothering the terrified part of him that nearly answers yes, Buck forces himself to stop twisting and just hang there. He doesn’t want to fall. He doesn’t want to die. But what he needs isn’t going to come from the ghost.

“No,” he answers.

And he can’t explain how he knows what her face looks like when it’s screwed up in fury, but he does. It’s vicious and vindictive and Buck’s not surprised at all when he’s flicked away from her and down the flight of stairs.

He seems to hit each one as he falls, something that should be impossible with the speed that he’s traveling and the force with which he bounces off of them, but the ghost is obviously responsible. Air leaves his lungs as his ribs crack against the stairs. His elbows and knees scrape. His head bangs the rail. Buck’s long, long legs seem to tangle as he falls, cartwheeling him down and he lands in a heap at the bottom.

As he tries to figure out if he can still move, the door flies open.

Warmth rushes in. Buck hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten since he first woke up, but the room seems to thaw around him. It’s like sunlight.

It’s Eddie.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan. Buck. I’ve got you, Buck. I’ve got you.”

Tenderly, he scoops Buck off the floor, unsnarling the mess of his limbs and feeling all over for the damage he can’t see. “I’ve got you. Open your eyes. Come on.”

The ghost stands at the top of the stairs and then she’s at the bottom. Buck clambers backward again, digging his heels into the floor to push himself upright in front of Eddie, to try and hide him from view. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the ghost. All of his attention is still on Buck, stroking his hair, promising over and over that he’s there, that he has Buck.

All of the ghost’s attention is on Buck too. “You need me,” she says. “You called for me.” She sounds different now. Bitter. Like Buck wasted her precious time.

“I don’t need you,” he says and he reaches behind him to grab Eddie’s hand. “I already have everything I need.”

Lights flicker and that impossibly loud sound bangs in Buck’s ears again. He gets one last look at the ghost’s vicious, violent visage and then she’s gone.

And then Buck wakes up.

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lilblog-asatreat · 3 years

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Prompt: Guard on a break; petty; shimmering lilac lake

(Prompt from Roll-A-Prompt Writing Journal Boxed Set)

It's been three months since the IPRE crew escaped the animal planet, and Taako's at his limit. This world they touched down in is completely devoid of civilization again, including talking animals, which means there's virtually nothing to do except study the Light of Creation, which they recovered a few weeks ago, and interact with the only other six people alive on the planet that composed of Taako's crewmates. He's almost always in the small lab with Lup and Barry as they experiment with the Light, and the times they aren't doing that, all Lup and Barry want to do is talk about it. Magnus trains almost nonstop, (seriously, does the dude even sleep?), and it seems like the only times Taako can get away from listening to him practicing his war cry is when Lup and Barry drag him away to the lab to figure out how he came back to life. Merle keeps singing the same damn four Pan hymns while he studies the new plant life offered by the planet. (Not to mention the time Taako walked in on him alone in the bathroom with what he would assume would be a beautiful looking flower if it wasn't wrapped around his... never mind. It was an image that he wanted to burn out of his memory to say the least.) Lucretia won't stop pestering him about talking about his feelings and his past all in the name of getting an accurate account of their mission (and little else to talk about). And Davenport has convinced himself that even after three months of radio silence, that force, the Hunger as Lucretia calls it, is going to come back at any second, so he has to stand guard on the ship in case he has to shoot everyone off into the sky at the drop of a hat.

Taako is sick and tired of everyone's bullshit. He needs a break. Apparently that isn't in the cards for him though because as soon as he steps out onto the deck to try and enjoy the fresh air, Davenport stops him.

"Taako, I was just about to go looking for you. I need you to stand guard out here while I go take a breather. I've been out here for hours, and Lucretia said... I need to decompress, I guess? Anyway, I'll be back shortly."

Suddenly, Taako would rather be anywhere else than on top of the deck.

He rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Davenport, my dude. If you were already talking to Lucretia, why didn't you just ask her to stand guard?"

"She wanted to go with Merle and Magnus while they forage for food. We're running low on supplies." Davenport says.

Taako frowns. "Why didn't you send me to go out and forage for food then? That's kind of what I'm best at."

"Because you're really good at sending up flares and showy magic, so you can easily send up a signal to get everyone back on board at a moments notice." Seeing Taako getting angrier, Davenport adds quickly, "They'll be fine. Besides, Merle's been studying the plant life more than you have, so he probably has a better idea of what is edible and what isn't than you do."

That does not, in fact, quell Taako's anger.

"Well thank you for acknowledging I am an elf of many talents at least, but I'll have you know Merle hasn't been so much as uh- studying the plant life as you say- as he has been fucking the plant life. So if you want to eat dirt because he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing, that's fine, but don't complain to me when I can't make anything that tastes acceptable from whatever the fuck they bring back."

"Taako-"

"Just go enjoy your break. I'll be up here waiting for nothing to happen until you come back."

Taako turns his back to him in a huff, and Davenport sighs but doesn't comment. Instead, he makes his way down the plank and onto the beach of the lake they're parked on.

It's a very pretty and calming scene to look at especially while coming down from an argument. The beach is made up of grey-blue sand that seems to get softer the closer it is to the ethereal lilac water that shimmers under the glow of the setting sun. The branches of the trees and other greenery surrounding the lake sway gently in the cool breeze. Taako walks over to the railing, leans against it, and sighs, blowing a stray strand of hair out of his face. He looks down at the small form of his captain sitting cross legged at the edge of the water. He doesn't want to talk to him, but he feels like he should probably at least try to make peace. No one knows what's happening and if they'll ever get back home, and if Taako has to spend the rest of his life with only these people, he might as well not make them hate him. He sighs again before making his way down to the beach.

"Hey," Taako says as he plops down next to him.

Davenport looks up at him with a start. "Taa- I told you to-"

"It's alright my man, I left Lup in charge," Taako lies. "Listen. I'm... sorry... about what I said up there. It was a little petty of me to uh get so upset over being told to guard the ship for a few minutes and not being sent on the foraging mission. But also, Davenport..." He sighs and turns to look at his captain. He has dark circles under his eyes, and his eyes look dead tired with a glimmer of constant worry and stress. Taako feels a pang of guilt for being short with him earlier, but he ignores it. "Look. The Hunger isn't coming. At least not for a while. You've been standing up there 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, and it's accomplishing nothing except making you more stressed than you need to be. And uh, quite frankly, it's also really annoying and stressing me out when you're also pushing that main focus on other people. You need to relax, my dude, before you give yourself, and everyone else, an aneurism."

Davenport turns away from him to stare out at the water. "I guess... I suppose you're right. It's just been so hard not knowing what's going on or what's going to happen to us next... I'm in charge of keeping everyone together and safe and making decisions that's supposed to benefit the team and mission as a whole, and I don't know how I'm supposed to do that when... this is so far out of what I imagined this mission was going to look like."

"Yeah, I don't think being the sole survivors of two apocalypses was part of the job description."

They both laugh a little at that.

"Anyway," Davenport continues, "it's not like y'all have been making it any easier, but I know it's because no one knows how to handle this situation, so I'm not upset. It is slightly annoying listening to Magnus train at all hours of the day and night, but I can talk to him about that later. And Taako, you really need to stop stealing people's stuff and moving it around on them everytime someone annoys you." Taako starts to protest, but Davenport cuts him off at the pass. "I know you're the one taking my stool, and I have caught you hiding Lucretia's notebooks in the kitchen cabinets. It's really petty and annoying, and that shit needs to be kept at a minimum."

Taako laughs. He pulls his knees up to his chest and continues to stare out into the water. "I promise I'll stop doing that if you promise to take breaks more often and stop pushing everyone to be on guard 24/7."

"Deal."

The two of them spend the rest of the evening in comfortable silence, watching the sun sink beyond the horizon and the stars blinking into view, and the bond engine at the back of the Starblaster glows just a little bit brighter as a new bond is formed.

#taz #taz balance #taz fanfic #taako #davenport #taz taako #taz davenport #stolen century #written works of Gab

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rrivcr · 2 years

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RIVER POLAT has been accepted to participate ! they are a 24 year old all the way from LONDON, ENGLAND. SHE is currently studying CRIMINOLOGY at the interchange !

hi everyone, it’s di again!! this time bringing in an old muse, river who only lives sad girl hours with halsey on repeat. i go by she/her pronouns and i’m in pst. more info on river below the cut ♡ ( tw self-harm, abuse, drugs, abandonment )

💔 to plot / 🔎 for a short starter ( full bio ) ( pinterest ) ( open starters ) ( connections )

instagram post template by @allscalliepsds

basics

full name: river polat

nickname(s): n/a

birthday: june 13th

gender: cis female

sexuality: bisexual

relationship status: single

zodiac: gemini sun, virgo moon, aquarius rising

home: london, england

major: criminology

languages: english

important bullets/history ( full bio here ! )

the whole foundation of river starts with the fact that she was abandoned as a baby, you guessed it, on a riverbank

river has no idea who her parents are and is far past trying to find out. she’s felt alone in the world since day one and that’s been a big barrier to ever getting close to anyone

sarcasm is a defense mechanism ( i know it’s a cliche but nothing has fit more ) also a huge halsey stan

the one person who she ever connected with as a parental figure was her social worker francine who kept tabs on her between all the foster homes she wound up in but when rive was twelve, francine died from a brain aneurism, wiping away any dream she’d had of living with the one woman who seemed to care

each family she found herself with never felt right for a variety of reasons but the biggest one was how she was treated in comparison to their actual kids, if they had any. it was clear she didn’t belong and some of them made it more obvious than others

most were distant while others took their anger and frustration out on her, like a punching bag that had taken up residence in their home. trust wasn’t exactly something she ever developed in a world like that

overall, she stayed with seven different families before she came of age and could step out on her own

life was never easy for the girl but she survived. she always did

there were moments when the world got to be too much and river would lock herself away, dragging whatever she could find over her skin to leave marks that would turn into scars that would eventually fade enough that no one even noticed

river knew of the arslans and the athanas families in london, having been around them but never invited in. though cecilya was someone her age that she could have been friends with, there was something about her that river resented

school had never been a priority for river. getting through each day with food and whatever drug she needed was more important than an education that didn’t really mean anything

there were plenty of mysteries in the neighborhood she lived in, never knowing who her parents were was only the start. the boy she loved disappeared without a trace, his brother following suit not long after. there was something strange going on which blossomed the interest in solving crime

mysteries became an obsession for her. she believed if she could solve just one of them, her life might mean something. her whole life she had felt like a reject, thrown to the side when something better came along. she doesn’t want to feel that way but it’s hard not to when that’s all she’s ever been told

wanted connections

friends / something close to it

classmates ( criminology )

drug dealer

confidant / therapist type

friends with benefits / enemies with benefits

will they, won’t they tension

past hookups / one night stands

party crew

enemies

i’m always down to brainstorm as well if none of these strike your fancy ♡

#interchangeintro #river. / intro #death tw #drugs tw #abuse tw #self harm tw

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wefoundloveunderthelight · 3 years

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The Love Cruise - by GleefullyCaptainSwan

Read on AO3: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Tagging: @stahlop @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @teamhook

Chapter 2: On Your Feet for the Captain

Killian stood at the base of the plank staring up at the large ship he was about to board. He marveled to think that he, Killian Jones, was about to Captain such a large vessel.

“Can I help you?” Killian turned to his left and down at the short girl staring up at him.

“Sorry, Lass, just admiring the view. She’s a beauty.” He gestured toward the ship in front of them.

“She’s a game changer.” The woman marveled. “State of the art medical equipment. Best in her class.”

“Aye, so I’ve been told, do you work in the Medical center?”

“I do. Name’s Tink Bell.” She announced with an enthusiastic smile. “Are you working on the ship?”

“Aye, I’m her Captain.” He nodded to the girl and looked back up at the massive ship. “It’s nice meeting you, Lady Bell.”

“The girls are gonna get a kick out of you.” She mused, staring at him adoringly before she headed up the plank.

“A goddamned love cruise.” He groaned and mumbled to himself as he followed her up the plank.

“Welcome aboard Captain.” The man greeted him at the end of the gang plank.

“Thank you, can you direct me to my quarters? I’d like to drop off my things before I head to the bridge.”

“Certainly, sir, follow me.”

Killian followed the man through the narrow hallways, his hands lightly teasing the walls as he examined every nook and cranny of his new lover. When he was left alone in his quarters, he stood on his balcony, inhaling the smell of the sea. “Ok girl, I promise to take care of you, if you take care of me.” There was a knock on the door.

Opening the door revealed a man in a white uniform. “Good afternoon, Captain, they are ready to provide the brief on the bridge.”

“Thank you, I’ll be up there in a minute.” The man left him alone and Killian changed in silence into his uniform. Checking his reflection in the mirror, he exhaled and headed to the bridge. He loved the quietness of the ship only the crew on board before allowing passengers to board, he passed many of his crew members, nodding as they strolled by him along the way.

As approached the bridge, he whispered under his breath. “Ok Jones, get your shit together.”

“On your feet for the Captain.”

His chest puffed as he entered the bridge. He had to admit, he felt like a schoolkid walking into the room. Listening to his First Mate, Smee, walk through procedures was almost like a drug to him. When the report was done, he made his way through the ship, introducing himself to each member of the crew he met. When he made it to the atrium, he spotted Robin standing at his desk.

“Well, we made it.” He remarked. “Ready to witness all the debauchery and indecency my heart can handle.”

“Captain Jones, these next two weeks will be a defining moment of our lives.” Robin proclaimed, holding his hand to his heart.

“If I survive the next two weeks, that may be my defining moment.”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Killian turned toward the angry voice, seeing Regina Mills making a beeline toward them. “Why are you here?” She glared at Robin.

“Hello, M’Lady, we meet again. You are still as ravishing as the last time I saw you.” Killian rolled his eyes; his friend was really laying it on thick.

“Don’t M’Lady me, why are you here?”

“I work here.” He announced proudly. “Looks like you and I will have plenty of time to get to know each other finally.”

She scoffed, “Not on your life, it’s a big ship, just steer clear of me.” She turned to face Killian. “I see he brought his whipping boy with him. Whatever did they hire you two to do? Cook, entertainer,” She turned with disgust at Robin. “Janitor.” She said looking down her nose at him.

“You might want to offer a bit more respect to your Captain.” Robin said with a shrug.

“You?” She said in horror.

“That would be me.” Killian interjected, holding out his hand. “Captain Jones. I don’t think we’ve officially met, last time I came in right about the time the liquid started flying.”

She paled slightly. “I hope you have better manners than this one.”

“Aye, I’ll ensure he behaves this time, Ms. Mills.”

“See that you do.” She added before stomping away.

“Maybe this is going to be more fun that I thought.” He mused as Robin’s eyes followed her adoringly until she rounded the corner and disappeared.

~*~

“So, you’ll be here when I get back from camp?”

Emma looked over at her son’s face, his small round features staring at her expectedly. “Of course, sweetie, I’ll be home before you even get back from camp.”

“Good because I want to tell you all about it when I get home.”

“And you know how much I love when you give me all the details.”

“And the ship won’t sink right?”

“Henry, we’ve talked about this, the ship won’t sink. People go on cruises all the time.”

“I just want you to come home to me.”

“I will always come home to you, Henry.”

“I love you mom.”

“I love you too, Peanut.”

Emma dropped Henry off at Granny’s, kissing him on the forehead and getting in a cab on her way to The Wooden Nickle to meet with the rest of her group.

“I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” August teased her as she entered the bar.

“Well, you know me, I’m not one to skip out on a challenge.” She shrugged, “Besides, I’m just going to have fun with my friends.”

“I’m happy you agreed to do this.” He said honestly. “You deserve to be happy.”

“I am happy, August.”

“So, you’ve said.” He said simply as Ruby and Will came stumbling into the bar, their hands full of luggage.

“My God, it’s two weeks, not two months.” August teased.

“You can’t limit me to one outfit a day. There are going to be men I have never met on this ship; they haven’t seen all my outfits.” Ruby complained with a pout.

“Explain that to the bloody person who has to carry all this garbage.” Will dropped the bag from his hands onto the ground.

Behind them David walked in the door with his suitcase, staring at the array of bags at Will’s feet. “I thought we were only going for two weeks?”

~*~

Killian read through his checklist from his seat on the bridge. He glanced at his watch; they would be boarding passengers in the next 30 minutes. He felt the familiar flutter of butterflies as he called out items from his list to confirm they were ready to sail. He was excited and nervous to Captain such a large vessel. The sea was the place that he felt the most at peace.

Perhaps that is why he moved into a houseboat after Milah’s death, despite the protests from his brother and Robin.

He couldn’t imagine sleeping in the bed they shared with her no longer there. He also couldn’t sleep there without waking up in a cold sweat remembering the night the phone rang, an unfamiliar person offering him condolences. His wife gone in an instant from an aneurism. There were no goodbyes, no last kiss, she was just gone in a single heartbeat.

But he had to admit that he wouldn’t miss his bed on the houseboat either. Robin had been honest about the size of his quarters on the ship. Perhaps the next 3 months at sea would be a good change for him, a chance to get his head right.

“Sir, passengers are boarding now.”

“Thank you, First Officer Smee, let’s run through the rest of the checklist.”

~*~

“Name and Identification please.” The portly woman standing behind the counter of the cruise ship terminal stood waiting for their documents as they checked in.

“Ruby Lucas.” She announced, handing over her ID.

“Emma Nolan.” Emma passed the ID to the woman.

“I can’t believe we are about to get on that for the next two weeks.” Ruby stared up toward the ship and Emma had to admit it was quite impressive standing below the immaculate ship.

“I hope I don’t get seasick. Do you think I should take my Dramamine now?”

“The worst of it should only last for the first 48 hours.” The lady behind the desk offered. “But I would take it before you get on board. It can be quite disorienting at first.”

Emma dug in her bag, popping the pills into her mouth, and swallowing with the last gulp of her water bottle.

“Alright ladies, you are all set. Here are your cruise ID’s, these will open the door to your room so don’t lose them.”

They finished signing their documents and met up with the boys who had all checked in before them.

“How come you get your own room?” Will was whining as they joined the group.

“Because I paid for this whole trip.” August shrugged and Will winced.

“Works for me, I guess we’re roomies Mate.” Will patted David on the shoulder.

~*~

“Oh my God, look at this room.” Ruby threw herself down on the bed as soon as they entered their room.

“Wow, August must have paid a pretty penny for this.” Emma was astounded at the room, complete with a small sitting area and large balcony.

“This is going to be the best two weeks ever.”

While Emma was nervous about being away from Henry for so long, she knew she would have been away from him at home while he was at camp anyway. At least this way she could distract herself and she had to admit, being on board this luxurious ship was not a bad way to do it.

There was a knock on their door and Ruby jumped up to answer it. “Hello Beautiful.” Will was leaning in their door frame, he was wearing the most ridiculous looking button-down shirt, covered in palm trees and flamingos.

“What are you wearing?”

“It’s my vacation look, like it?” He modeled his shirt, walking through their room and spinning quickly as he got to the other end. “My shorts are khaki.” He ran his hand down his shorts and back up to his shirt. “And this, is the money maker.” He flipped the collar up on his shirt. “Now, which one of you ladies is escorting me to tonight’s launch party on the Lido deck?” He looked between them.

Emma jumped up from the bed and wrapped her arms around Will’s neck, planting her lips on his cheek. “My hero.” She giggled. “Find your own, Rubes, this one’s mine.”

“You heard the lady.” Will said proudly.

“I’m just going to change really quick. Are we meeting you guys up there?”

“Aye, we are heading up in a minute, your brother takes a long time to get ready. Are you aware of that?”

Emma snorted loudly. “Try growing up with him. That hair, right?”

“Bloody hell, he’s worse than a woman with that. I left him fluffing it in the bathroom. I was feeling less like a man the longer he took. No wonder he’s single, eh?” He shut the door behind him, and Emma and Ruby quickly changed into their sundresses for the party.

Once they were ready to leave, they hooked their arms together and found their way to the Lido deck. “My God look at all the fresh meat.” Ruby marveled as Emma felt her anxiety increase at the number of men and women gathered on the deck, many already coupling and pairing up for the evening.

As soon as she saw Will standing by the railing, she ran to him and wrapped her arm around his waist. “There’s my date.” She giggled, holding on to him like a life vest.

“Hello, love. Are you ready to set sail?”

“Ready for the adventure of a lifetime.” She jumped when a loud horn blared on deck signaling the ship being ready to push away from the dock.

She felt an arm around her shoulder and looked over to see her brother, smiling brightly. “You look happy.” She chuckled.

“We are on the ocean, wind in our hair, our whole future in front of us, what’s not to be happy about?”

“Well, Will says it took you an hour to do your hair, you sure you’re excited about the whole wind scenario?”

“You aren’t going to ruin my mood with your negativity, sis.”

“Will, I’m pretty sure that girl is checking you out.” Emma turned to seek out the woman that Ruby was pointing out to Will. A few groups away was a short, brunette, smiling in his direction.

“Bloody hell, I’m not a piece of meat. Where’s my girlfriend?” He turned, dragging Emma back to his side and wrapping a protective arm around her neck.

“She’s cute.” Emma whispered.

“Hey, I thought you were on my side?” He whined.

“Where did David go?” She asked, looking around.

“He’s talking to that girl over there.” Emma swung around and located her brother, standing by the bar, laughing with a short haired woman.

“That was quick.”

“Always the charmer.” Will added.

David came back toward the group with a bucket full of beer. He passed one to each of the group. “Already meeting people?” Emma inquired.

“Sorry?”

“Don’t act innocent, I know what the David Nolan flirt looks like.” She flipped her hair and laughed, her head tilting back as she exhaled.

“Whatever, she tried to steal my beer, so I introduced myself.”

“A thief, those are the worst kind.” Will scowled.

“Well, it was a misunderstanding, so it was all good.”

“What’s her name?” August asked stepping into the conversation.

“Mary Margaret. She’s actually friends with the woman who’s been eye fucking Will.”

“Shit, she has spies already.” He reached out, grabbing Emma by the hand.

“Must be really hard to be you, William.” Emma teased.

“It’s the worst.” He groaned.

~*~

“Let’s take her out, Smee.” Killian announced with an adventurous smirk, guiding the ship out of the dock and into the open seas. The feel of the ship shuddering beneath his feet, the controls in his hand as he turned her toward the ocean was exhilarating and brought him back to the time Liam let him take the helm of the Battleship during their time in the Navy. The sea was an intoxicating mistress and one that he would love for his entire life.

A few hours later after the ship was full speed ahead in the open waters, Killian excused himself from the bridge and made his way back to his quarters.

“Jones, I was just coming up to see you.” He turned to see Robin approaching his room.

“I see you are still alive, so Ms. Mills has not made you walk the plank yet.”

“I’m about to go check her out. She’s giving her ‘Welcome Aboard’ speech on the Lido deck right now. Thought I’d go give her a hand.”

“One that she will most likely break.” He laughed as Robin ignored his comment.

“You coming?”

“To the launch party? I don’t think so.”

“Come on, Mate. It’s your first night as the Captain of this beautiful vessel, don’t you want everyone to greet and fall in love with Captain Jones?”

“That is my exact fear.”

“Fine, but you will have to show yourself eventually around the decks. Passengers always have questions for the Captain. At least put on some civvies and head up top to watch the sunset tonight.” Robin left him in the hallway, mulling over his options for the evening.

~*~

“And again, I want to welcome you all aboard The Love Cruise, may our home be yours for the next two weeks.”

The dark-haired woman was giving a speech about all the fun they were about to embark on, but all Emma could focus on was the claustrophobic feeling of being surrounded from all sides. “I’m just gonna get some air.” She yelled into Will’s ear.

“Beer? Yes, I’ll take one.” He yelled back. Emma nodded and then pushed her way through the crowd. Perhaps a drink wasn’t a bad idea.

“What’s the drink of the day?” She asked the bartender as she approached, happy to be away from the large crowd behind her.

“Pineapple margarita.” He held up the large pineapple, “Comes in a pineapple.”

She laughed. “Who could say no to that?” She handed over her ID card and turned to watch as the crowd was whipped into a frenzy, the cruise director and another man hyping the crowd as the music started to blare through the speakers.

“Here you go Miss.”

She took the large pineapple, complete with umbrella and flower and walked further down the deck toward the front of the ship, away from the crowd and noise. The drink was ridiculously over the top, but she reminded herself that she was on an over-the-top cruise where singles came to meet up and perhaps an adult drink in a large fruit wasn’t that ridiculous after all.

She sipped her drink as she leaned over the rail, watching the water in the ships wake ripple in the last light left before the sun dipped below the ocean’s view.

“I hope you have no plans to jump, I’m a fairly good swimmer but the water is quite cold.”

Emma flinched and turned to the offending intruder when her heart caught in her throat. Standing before her was the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. The waning sun shimmered in the dark strands of his hair, his blue eyes reflecting like pools of bright light staring back at her.

Oh my God Emma, say something!

“No plans currently at the moment but I’m reserving my right to jump later.”

“Well then I guess you’ll have to alert me when the time comes so that someone will be there to fetch you.”

His voice was smooth and addicting and she was conflicted on being annoyed that he was interrupting her private moment but also trying to come up with an excuse to get him to continue speaking to her with his incredibly sexy accent.

Stop it.

She realized he was still looking at her and suddenly she didn’t know how long she had been standing there in silence looking like a cat that swallowed a canary. She did the only thing she could do and started laughing. However, she was sure if that was not an improvement on the silence or if she suddenly just turned into a crazy person laughing for no reason.

As if recognizing her inner turmoil, he leaned against the rail beside her and spoke again. “This is my favorite part of the ship.”

“The rail?”

What the fuck, Emma. Why would she say that?

He chuckled, “The bow of the ship. Looking out at the ocean, seeing where she’s taking you, no other feeling like it.”

“You aren’t about to expose some weird kink to me and ask me to pose like they did on the titanic or anything, right?”

He scrunched his nose, “That’s a kink? Perhaps I don’t understand that word as well as I thought I did.”

She couldn’t stop the snort from escaping her and quickly cupped her mouth.

“So, tell me love, why are you not at the party with all the other desperate singles?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I was blackmailed into coming on this cruise?”

It was his turn to laugh loudly and she immediately noticed the adorable way his eyes crinkled when he did.

“Blackmailed? Well, that is scandalous.”

“I could ask you the same, unless you were stalking me and followed me back here to get me alone?”

“I can assure you, there was no nefarious plot besides wanting to get away from the crowd, the same as yourself.”

“Blackmailed as well?” She joked.

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”

“My friends mean well, but I’m just not, into this.” She looked around at the boat, and back toward the crowd of people dancing.

“Aye, I suppose I’ve never been a fan of the smell of desperation, honestly.”

She found herself laughing again, something he seemed to be very good at eliciting from her. “I should get back to my friends before they send out a search party or think I’ve hooked up with someone and ask for a million details.”

He nodded to her as she pushed off the rail. “Might I ask for your name?” He paused, “In case you are in need of assistance when you throw yourself overboard in the future.”

She bit her lip, staring at him in the moonlight. It can’t hurt to give him your name, it’s not like you’re going to run into him again on this giant ship. “It’s Emma. Emma Swan.” She stated quickly, hoping if he was a stalker that giving him her nickname instead of her last name would slow him down in finding her again.

“Nice to meet you, Emma.”

She turned, walking quickly back towards her friends. When she found them, Will was looking around nervously. “Oi, I thought you dumped me already.” He put his arm back around her shoulder and she leaned against him, swaying to the music as they listened to a band performing on the stage under the stars. “Hey, where’s my beer?”

#The Love Cruise #tlc #my fics #stacy's fics #emma x killian #killian jones #emma x hook #emma swan #captain swan #captainswan #captain swan au #captain swan fics #captain swan modern au

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piratestrash · 3 years

Note

what was Jackie doing during the battle for piracy

This is going to be long. Everything is on some level relevant, but it is going to be a bit of reading. If you don't want to read it, you don't have to.

Jackie was SUPPOSED to be at Shipwrecks Cove with Grandpa!Teague. She is a fourteen year old girl, and too young to be a part of a battle like this.

She was locked in a bedroom that night, and was supposed to stay that way until Teague let her out. He had to wait until she couldn't just swim to sneak aboard. Then they'd just be chilling.

Barbossa was the one that locked her in, but Jack didn't stop him. Lizzie privately disagreed, but said nothing. Jackie is their daughter, after all.

Jackie fundamentally disagreed with not being allowed for a few main reasons. The first is that she is a member of the crew. The second is that she has been there since the beginning. The third is that this could be the end of all piracy.

The first reason boils down to the fact that she has a job. She is the navigator for the Black Pearl and has fought in battles, both on the ground and on the sea. She has the responsibilities of an adult and is no different than any other crew member. Her age has never been a problem before, so why should it be one now?

The second reason is more of the fact that she has been involved since Jack got the Black Spot. She watched Bootstrap give it to him. She dealt with the cannibals. She went to Tia Dalma for help. She even fought some of Davy Jones' crew and went to the Locker to rescue Jack. She knows more about the situation than most of the people going. She's, logically, one of the few who have a REASON to be a part of the battle.

The third is the most personal. She has always been taught that she's a pirate, that the sea is where she belongs. She gave up love and support for sneers and being called insane because she refused to give up piracy. She worked damn hard, sacrificed so much, to be a pirate. And now she's being told she can't even defend who she is.

She snuck out through the window in the bedroom and hid aboard the Pearl. She stayed in that spot until it would be too late to turn back and then strolls out casually.

Teague noticed she was gone when he was supposed to let her out. He had prepared himself to deal with an angry, worried teenager and despite being a horrid father, wanted to be a good grandfather. When he saw she was gone, he essentially said, "I expected an escape attempt. But not a successful one. Good for her!" before getting his own ship and leaving for the battle.

When Jackie casually walked on deck, Barbossa was pissed. This is his child, and no matter how mature she is, she's fourteen. Too young to be here, where grown adults almost didn't want to come.

Through much debate and bringing up she's not the most inexperienced pirate here, she manages to be allowed to at least stay on deck.

Trade goes on as normal with Jackie as a bystander and blah-blah-blah Maelstrom happens.

At first, she's just somewhat near Gibbs and doing what everyone else is, until Dutchman crew comes over. One of them(I call him eel boi but idk what they are) swings the rope over and she uses it to search for Jack, and help him out if need be.

He has just escaped his prison and is fighting Davy Jones. She gets involved and they take him together. She does what she can, and fights on the mast with Jack.

Things go on as normal, Jack and Jackie fighting Davy like in the movie(Jackie's trying her best to get as many blows in as possible, but Jack is still very much the main fighter) and it's epic. Barbossa is having aneurisms because that's his daughter and she just fucking went aboard the enemy ship without any back up and is probably fighting something despite being way too young to even be a part of this. He can't even follow because he's got to be at the helm.

Gibbs watched her do it and isn't even surprised. That kid is a Sparrow, through and through. Jack would probably do the same if he cared about someone enough. He is also worried because he cares about her, but he's preoccupied fighting.

Things go on as epically normal and Will comes aboard and gets stabbed, Jackie's heart breaks and she's cradling his head. Lizzie's at his side and Jack's got his hand to stab the heart.

Jack tells her and Lizzie to hold on to him and they do the same trick. Things go on and Hector has wrapped both his arms around Jackie. He almost lost her, and they are all about to die. He says he's proud of her.

Will comes back and Beckett's ship gets destroyed. Jackie, Jack, Hector, and Teague all head back to the cove to discuss her blatant disobedience but also her bravery and how she handled herself in battle.

#This is hella long #I'm sorry #Jackie Sparrow #Battle for Piracy #Too many characters to tag #Davy Jones #Captain Hector Barbossa #Hector Barbossa #Jack Sparrow #Captain Jack Sparrow #Joshamee Gibbs #Elizabeth Swann #Will Turner #Eel boi

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writeyouin · 5 years

Text

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 21

Chapter 21 - A Happy Ending

A/N – I cannot believe that I’ve got to this point. I loved getting here, but I’m sad to see it go. Fine, if we must part ways then I’m glad it’s to a happy ending. Based on headcanons by @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron and starring fan art by the miraculous @bloodypoptart

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Rodimus pouted from his position on the balcony overlooking the entire crew. This was where he usually made announcements, but no, this time you had called for an announcement and Megatron had simply agreed to whatever it was you were about to say. If you only relayed what you were going to say then Rodimus would say it for you, but no, apparently you were going to take one of the best parts of his job away. You assured him it was only going to be this once but he highly doubted that, once you found out how great it was to say anything you wanted while everyone else was forced to listen.

You glanced over to Rodimus sympathetically as if reading his thoughts. He gave a sarcastic thumbs up, indicating you were to start, although he already knew what you were going to say with Swerve stood by your side. Everyone already knew you were dating, thanks to Rewind. This was clearly an announcement to say so officially, probably to save face after the week’s earlier embarrassment. It’s not like he couldn’t say that for you. On his spot. On his ship. As Captain. But it was fine, he wasn’t jealous or anything, so long as you would hurry it up already so he could get back to actually following his quest… as Captain.

While Rodimus heaved a dramatic sigh, which you ignored, you looked at Swerve, silently affirming that he was ready. Swerve grabbed your hand, giving a small squeeze to let you know he was as prepared as he could be, though he was secretly more frightened than he’d ever been in his entire life, including all the years he’d spent in the war; war was inevitably something all Cybertronians were used to, commitment and marriage were much scarier. In war, you could choose to rely only on yourself if it was so desired, in a marriage, you suddenly weren’t alone anymore and as such had so much more to lose.

“You sure you want me to do this?” You whispered to him as the crowd below started to get restless; it reminded you of your first day on the ship, when you had to be publicly announced for the crew to assimilate to you.

“They’ll take it from you better,” Swerve said supportively, but what he really meant was that he had to hear it from you, if only to further prove the wedding was still happening and he wasn’t forcing you into it somehow.

You took a deep breath, not needing to ask for the crew’s attention as all optics were trained on you; even those who couldn’t leave their posts were undoubtedly watching you over the vid-screens. “Hi,” You waved somewhat awkwardly. Rodimus rolled his optics and came over with a microphone, thinking about how he never needed one when it was him making the speeches.

You nodded in thanks, hefting the heavy microphone that was made for Cybertronian size and was almost the same length as your torso. “Okay everyone, so it’s pretty obvious me and Swerve are dating but that’s not what I’m here to announce. Look, before I say what I’ve got to say, well… I’m- Uh, we’re not here to seek validation or for you to ask a bunch of questions or anything like that, it’s just, me and Swerve… Well, um, we’re getting married.”

You bit your lip, waiting for an uproar or maybe some cheering or even a deafening silence. You got neither the reaction you expected nor wanted, as almost the entire crew burst into fits of laughter.

You looked to Swerve for support, but he simply shrugged his shoulders, unsurprised that the crew thought it was all some kind of epic joke. You glanced at Rodimus, who was also in hysterics. Speaking into the microphone again, you said, “Hey, this uh, isn’t a joke, I’m serious, we really are getting married.”

Nobody heard you, but deep in the crowd, Rung, Chromedome, Rewind and Whirl were watching you very closely, knowing that you spoke the truth.

Whirl shook his head, deciding to take control of the situation once and for all. He blasted a loud shot into the ceiling from the one gun he’d managed to hide from Ultra Magnus and always carried around with him for such events that might be made more entertaining with bullets. The room fell silent as Whirl shouted, “THE NEXT PERSON TO LAUGH GETS VENTILATED. NOW, I DON’T KNOW WHAT (Y/N) SEES IN THAT IDIOT, FRAG, SHE’S PROBABLY JUST IN IT FOR THE FREE DRINKS BUT IT’S CLEAR THAT SHE’S NOT JOKING. YOU ALL SAW HOW SHE KISSED HIM ON THAT DAMN TAPE. SWERVE’S GOT GAME, I GUESS.”

You didn’t know what to say now that your entire speech had been derailed. You half expected things would get even crazier or that Ultra Magnus would interject, and it would turn into another debate about gun control. Instead, the entire room turned to you for confirmation and Ultra Magnus was too distracted to help as he cringed at the burn mark on the ceiling, clearly upset that his none of his Roomba armada would be able to reach the ceiling to clean it; besides that, he’d already lost far too many Roombas to the ‘secret’ fights the crew held.

“Yeah…” You said anxiously. “What Whirl said.”

Nobody said anything for a long time and finally Rodimus stepped forward, placing a comforting servo on your shoulder and smiling confidently. You thought he was the first to congratulate you in his own way, but little did you know, he was simply happy to be back in control with what he planned to do next.

“You heard the happy couple,” He beamed. “WE’VE GOT A WEDDING TO PLAN!”

Finally, there was a small cheer as everyone came to terms with what was happening. “Okay,” Rodimus said, “So I’m thinking we’ve got a lot to do and little time. Seven cycles sounds about right.”

You glanced at Swerve, seeing how everything was completely out of your hands; in seven days the two of you would be married. Everything in your life since joining the Lost Light had happened in whirlwind time, it should have been no surprise that your wedding would be no different.

“Alright,” Rodimus continued as he began pointing out people in the crowd, “Brainstorm and Perceptor, you two are on the (Y/N)’s bride outfit. Ultra Magnus, catering detail. Rewind, I want all kinds of documentation, I’m talking films, interviews with the bride and groom on their take on the love story, get everything you can. Blaster, you’re on music. Ten, Tailgate and Cyclonus, You three are on decorations.”

Cyclonus scowled, but before he could argue, Rodimus shouted his name, “HEY, DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! YOU NEVER USE THAT SWORD FOR ANYTHING USEFUL ANYMORE ANYWAY… Primus, at least use it to cut up some origami or something. What does that leave… Mirage, you’re on bartending duty since Swerve can’t be and, let’s see, um…”

Swerve stepped forward to protest his distaste for Mirage, his chief contender, serving drinks at his wedding, but you held him back, “You really wanna serve drinks at your own wedding?”

Swerve sighed, and wrapped his arm around you, “I guess not, but the reception will be at my bar, not his.”

“Whatever you need to sleep at night, handsome,” You patted his chassis.

Rodimus practically glowed as he made his final announcement, “And last but certainly not least, only I can be the priest or whatever as the Captain of th-”

“CO-CAPTAIN,” A voice from the throng called.

Rodimus leaned over the railing, curling his fist angrily, “WHO SAID THAT?!”

Nobody answered, and Rodimus straightened up, pouting. “Fine, as Co-Captain I will officiate, Megatron can… I dunno, Megatron can be Swerve’s best man I guess.”

Megatron gritted his dentae and while he and Rodimus argued it out, Swerve looked at you pitifully, “Should I even try arguing this one?”

You gave his servo a squeeze, “Honestly, I don’t think you’d win.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

The two of you held onto one another, the calm in the eye of the storm until Rodimus said, “Till all are one,” marking that the speech was over.

“Hey,” Swerve said, “You okay to be on your own for a while? I’ve got to sort something out… It’s a surprise.”

You smiled, “How intriguing. You think you can keep a secret?”

“Every once in a while,” Swerve chuckled.

“You know, it’s bad to keep secrets in a marriage, this could very well destroy us.”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Fine,” You said playfully, “Keep your secrets. It’s just as well, I’ve got to see Rung anyway.”

Swerve kissed your head lovingly and the two of you parted ways, each on your own little mission, preparing to begin a new adventure, together.

It was taking you much longer than usual to get to Rung’s because every time someone saw you, they stopped to congratulate you, and more than once, you found your path blocked by various wedding preparations. You even heard talk that some of the bots were struggling to rearrange Swerve’s; you hoped that wasn’t true because if it was, Swerve was going to have an aneurism.

Finally, your goal was in sight and you foolishly thought you were going to make it to Rung’s office until you were once again plucked out of the air by Whirl who threw you into a supply closet, locking the door behind himself.

You remembered the days you used to be afraid of such a situation, now they had become your normal. Although breathless by the impromptu kidnapping, you decided you still had to thank Whirl for his earlier rescue in the speech, if it wasn’t for him, none of the ship’s hubbub would be happening right now.

“Whirl, I-”

Whirl waved his claw casually, “Yeah, yeah, can it fleshie, I got something important to say. ‘Kay, now I’m not saying that marrying Swerve is bad but I’ve gotta ask, you sure you don’t wanna switch to a real mech?” He pointed to himself. “I’m a real prize, y’know. Nobody can take me in a fight. Tell me, what’s better than that?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you doubled over laughing, holding onto his leg for support, “Whirl, what the hell man?”

“Don’t blow this off so easily, really think about it, this is a one-time offer, trading Swerve for me.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, still snickering. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass, but hey, if you would do me a favour and be my mech of honour, that’d be great.”

Whirl had seen enough of the films in Swerve’s bar to know what you were asking. He rolled his optic sarcastically, “You have no idea of what we could’ve had but sure, go with the orange guy. Fine, I guess I can be the mech of honour… Does that mean I get to kill Swerve if he runs?”

“I- Um- Maybe try not to do that.”

“What about stabbing him a little?”

“I’d uh- rather have him kept whole.”

“Gotcha,” Whirl attempted a wink, which ended up being one unusually long blink. “Psychological torture and a light-beating only.”

You patted his leg in a supporting manner, “Sure, that sounds like a deal.”

Turning around, Whirl unlocked the door, letting you out first. “As your mech of honour, I’m gonna go train. Gotta get buff if that orange scumbag tries to run. Primus, I hope he runs.”

You blew Whirl a kiss, which he tried hard to ignore blushing slightly anyway, “You do that big guy; you’ll be the best mech of honour a girl could have.”

Whirl walked away, leaving you to finally get to Rung’s office. You jumped up to the door buzzer, taking three attempts before you managed to press it, silently cursing yourself for not wearing your rocket boots.

Rung opened the door, a look of surprise contorting his features. He thought he’d be the last bot you would want to see, considering his slightly strained relationship with Swerve. “(Y/N), what a pleasant surprise. Is this a professional meeting or a social call?”

He highly doubted it was the latter, becoming further shocked when you claimed it to be just that. Settling himself down in his chair, and giving you a boost to the desk, he waited for you to set the tone of the conversation, ever conscious that if he spoke first, he would blur the lines between patient and friend. Although he didn’t fully approve on your and Swerve’s hasty decision, he was determined to be supportive, afraid that if he wasn’t you would stop visiting him in both personal and professional terms.

When it became clear that you weren’t sure how to start, Rung found it impossible to ignore his processor, and spoke up quietly, “Presumably, you’re set on your decision so I’ll spare the lecture and simply ask, is this definitely what you want?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking Rung in the optics, “More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I love him Rung. He makes me feel safe and God, so, so happy.”

Rung nodded, satisfied with you answer, “Very well. Then I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. I um- Excuse me for getting straight to the point but I need to know something, how much do you know about human weddings?”

“Not a lot, I’m afraid.”

You paced the table, taking time to find the right words, “Right… well, me and Swerve have decided that we’re going to somehow mesh our traditions, one wedding with the Endurae Ceremony thrown in. In human weddings there’s this role I need filling and it’s super important to pick the right person.”

Rung observed you, waiting for you to ask his advice on who to pick. He sighed, deciding to intervene before things got out of hand, “(Y/N), I cannot influence your choices on who to choose during your ceremony. It would be unethical-”

You grabbed his servo, “I want you to walk me down the aisle like the father of the bride is supposed to.”

Although Rung didn’t know what the significance was behind your request, he could tell from the tone of your voice that it was an important role. He took off his glasses, wiping away some coolant, “(Y/N), you’re sure about this?”

“Rung, you’ve guided me since my first steps on this crazy ship. You’ve made me a better person, and there is nobody I’d rather have giving me away than you. You’re the closest thing I have to a dad here and I want you by my side on my wedding day.”

Graciously, Rung bowed his head, “It would be my honour and a pleasure.”

You grinned, jumping to hug his chassis, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapping around you, “Thank You.”

Rung stroked your back, waiting till you pulled away from him before speaking again. “The pleasure is all mine, though if you could tell me more about my role and how I am to fulfil it, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Yeah, sure. Well, to put it-”

You were interrupted by the sound of a gong echoing over the ship’s announcement system, followed by Rodimus’ impatient voice. “(Y/N), how many times have I gotta tell you to carry around your communicator? Honestly, it’s zero, but you’re slipping, forgetting it in your room. Do you know how rude that is? What if we needed to track you? Like we did, right now, today, for a VERY important thing.”

You stared at Rung, silently begging him to tell you your communicator hadn’t really been bugged with a tracking device like you would give a dog or child. Rung raised his servos sympathetically as Rodimus continued his rant.

“What? You think I’m gonna tell you what the super cool thing is. Guess again. But if you’re not in rec-room 2B in ten minutes- wait, scrap that, make it twenty, gotta account for those tiny little legs… so cute. Anyway, twenty minutes, or I make no promises on what I’ll do to your room. Captain out!”

You shook your head disbelievingly, “I uh, I guess I have to go. Sorry Rung, rain check?”

Rung chuckled light-heartedly, “Yes, of course. Go find out what Rodimus wants, and don’t worry about me. I’m going to do all the research I can into human weddings.”

He helped you down from the desk, wishing you well as you ran down the hallways, trying to beat the timer Rodimus had set, and cursing the entire time as a cramp formed, hitting you like a needle every few seconds.

When you finally got to rec-room 2B, Rodimus was waiting outside, tapping his pede. “Primus, did you skip leg day? I’ve been waiting here forever,” He whined.

You held your hand up, ready to argue, but quickly let it drop, still trying to catch your breath.

Rodimus shook his head, placing a servo on the small of your back and guiding you into the room where a table was waiting with three seats. Cyclonus sat on the left seat and Nautica on the right, leaving the tall, middle seat for you. With Nautica’s assistance, you clambered up, watching Rodimus as he ran out of the room.

“What’s going on?” You asked worriedly.

“Don’t know,” Nautica said. “Rodimus dragged me in here as quickly as he could. Told me if I waited long enough, he’d get me a whole set of new tools… I think that was a lie.”

You nodded thoughtfully, turning to the ever stoic Cyclonus. “Tailgate,” He answered curtly, as if that was any kind of explanation.

Rodimus, re-entered the room, placing both servos on his cheeks, his mouth forming into a socked ‘O’ as if he never knew you were there. “Why, what have we here?” He asked loudly, strutting in front of the table like a peacock. “Well, if it isn’t our table of judges for the brand new, one-time-only, mech of honour contest! Today, for our three judges, we have a line a mile long, full of hopeful contestants to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!” He revved his engines excitedly.

“Uh, Rodimus,” You squeaked, thinking of Whirl. “I already-”

“AND HERE’S CONTESTANT NUMBER ONE!”

Tailgate skipped in, clearly having been trained by Rodimus on exactly where to stand. His visor flashed eagerly as he waved at you.

Rodimus patted him on his shoulder, “Tailgate, why don’t you tell our panel a little bit about yourself and why you deserve to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!”

“Are you gonna shout that every time?” Nautica asked almost boredly, thinking of the tools she would never get.

“Withhold any comments until after the audition please, judge Nautica,” Rodimus commanded, his optics still trained on Tailgate who began his audition.

“Hi, I’m Tailgate and I’d make a great mech of honour for the same reasons I’d make a great Co-Co-Captain.”

A few other mechs peaked in from outside, trying to determine what they were supposed to say during their auditions.

“Rodimus,” You smiled awkwardly, feeling it stretch too far across your face.

“Not now judge,” Rodimus waved you off.

You sighed, seeing that there were no other options. “I already have a mech of honour!” You told the room, “I picked Whirl earlier.”

Riptide booed from outside, and Tailgate began muttering to himself, “Don’t get to be mech of honour, don’t get to be Co-Co-Captain, don’t get to be anything.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you were planning any of this,” You gestured at the line of mechs who were blocking the door to listen in.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus held his helm in his palm. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)… You know how impulsive I am, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t blame me!”

“I blame you!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the disappointment surrounding you. “Ugh, fine, I guess I can have two bridesmai- uh bridesmechs.”

Upon hearing this, Tailgate pushed Rodimus away from you, “As I was saying. I would be the best candidate for a tonne of reasons, right Cyclonus?” He winked.

“I’m not going to be a part of this,” Cyclonus deadpanned, leaving the room solemnly.

“Wha- CYCLONUS, COME BAAAACK,” Tailgate whined, chasing after him.

Nautica pulled out her datapad, making a note. “Hmm, chases after his own personal problems instead of focusing on the bride. Not a good quality in a bridesmech. Too bad, he was doing so well until then.”

You smirked, amused with how scientific she was even now; it looked like most of the decisions of the contest would be up to her for the rest of the game Rodimus had dragged you both into.

“Contestant number two, we are waiting for you,” Rodimus called, in a game-show host kind of voice.

Riptide stepped forward, “Hi, I’m Riptide, but all my friends call me… uh Riptide.”

You snickered into the palm of your hand, finally beginning to see the appeal in Rodimus’ game, even if it was to be a long one, judging by the ever-growing queue outside.

Swerve hugged you close to him, wrapping you in your blanket that he’d moved over to his berth along with an assortment of pillows. You had already told him of your long day and how it ended with you picking Nautica, Tailgate, Rewind, Chromedome, and Riptide as your bridesmechs, mainly because everyone kept complaining until you did.

“A gaggle,” You groaned. “I have a gaggle of bridesmaids.”

“Bridesmechs,” Swerve corrected you playfully.

“They’re like Gremlins! Spill water on one and it multiplies.”

“Primus, I love you,” Swerve murmured at the reference.

You peeked up at him, frowning suddenly, “Hmm, you’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been talking.”

“Yeah, talking but not babbling. What’s with that? I mean- Wait!” You sat up, “Are you trying to keep your secret thing quiet by not talking.”

Swerve blushed, going ridged, “NO!”

You slapped his chest, grinning idiotically, “You totally are. What is it? Come on, tell me!”

Swerve mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

He nodded vigorously.

“I bet I can get those lips open.”

He shook his head. You placed a single finger under his chin, drawing him close to you and kissing him, slipping your tongue in to rub against his metal one. He moaned into your mouth, accepting defeat, even when you pulled away.

The two of you laid down again, and Swerve finally spoke, albeit quietly, “Are you happy?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

“It’s just… in Mork and Mindy, they waited four years for the slow burn until Mork proposed to Mindy. Four seasons, that’s like four years for you guys. Are you sure I’m not rushing you?”

You stroked Swerve’s cheek, “I think this is more like a Sam and Diane kind of thing in Cheers.”

“Sam and Diane… (Y/N), are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No, they get together in like, season one.”

“And then they repeatedly break up and they finally stop seeing each other after breaking off their engagement in the season four finale.”

“Really? God, I have got to see more of that show.”

Swerve let go of you, “You haven’t seen all of cheers?!”

“Save it for the honeymoon babe. What I meant was, they spend ages beating around the bush until they’re finally together and then it’s a full-on relationship, in season one at least. Now come on, no more Cheers talk, tell me at least a little bit about your day, pretty please.”

“Fine,” Swerve huffed, “But the Cheers thing isn’t over, it’s just on hold.”

You nodded agreeably.

“What to tell you, what to tell you… Oh, I chose our song for the first dance.”

“Is it one of those funny ones where we pretend to slow dance then pick out a hip-hop number?”

“W—well, not uh, not really,” Swerve stammered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as his cooling fans kicked on. “I-I mean we could do that if you want, but I was thinking something more traditional?”

“Really? I thought you’d like an opportunity to show off.”

“I uh- I guess we could. I’d have to pick a different song but if that’s what you want then…”

Seeing how much Swerve wanted his traditional dance made your heart flutter. You pecked his lips, “No, whatever you’ve picked will be perfect, I just know it.”

“I’m still not telling you what song it is,” Swerve smiled.

“Oh, come on,” You pouted, “I’d tell you. Man… I cannot believe you can keep a secret.”

“Speaking of secrets… I’ve been thinking about how to integrate the four acts of The Conjunx Rites into a human wedding and, uh… how much do you know about the Conjunx Rites, by the way?”

“Between my vast knowledge of everything? I know… nothing.”

Swerve vented his fans anxiously, “Um, the first act is the act of intimacy.”

You bit back a laugh, thinking of the night before with Swerve between your legs. Reaching over and tracing your fingers lightly over his interface panel, you winked, “Pretty sure we already got that one covered.”

Swerve blushed and stammered on, “I-I was thinking we c-c-could just hold hands or something, for the crowds.”

You giggled, and stopped teasing him, keeping your hands to yourself, “Alright, then what?”

“I’m gonna save Act 2 for last because I dunno, we’re rebels and kinda screwing with tradition as it is, so next is the act of profference. We have to give each other a gift of some kind.”

Reaching behind him, Swerve pulled a small orange metal box from underneath the mountain of pillows. “I want to give you this officially on the day, but I think you should see it now.”

Wordlessly, you took the box, opening it to find a plain purple ring, the likes of which you’d never seen before. While you stared at it, Swerve started explaining.

“I don’t know if you’ll get it, but it’s made out of my innermost energon… Percy found a way to stabilize it into a metal, so, uh, well, it’s important to me and I’ll explain if you need me to.”

As it happened, you didn’t need Swerve to explain; you already knew that receiving inner-most energon was the highest form of love and respect you could receive from a Cybertronian.

“I get it,” You said quietly, wiping your eyes free of tears.

Trying to alleviate the sombre, yet joyous mood, Swerve said, “Brainstorm wanted to make it, but he was planning to inscribe it with ‘One Ring to Rule Them All.’ There’s still a good chance, he’ll put something like that on your dress.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. Closing the box gently, you handed it back to him, “I don’t know what I can possibly give you that could ever match up to that.”

“You’ve already given me something though (Y/N).”

“Please do not say that boxset of ‘Three Men and a Baby’ I found.”

“(Y/N), you’re exempt from act three because you’ve already given me something nobody else could; a reason to live.”

You looked up, shocked and afraid, despite his happy tone. You were about to say something when Swerve got the ball rolling again with act four. “The final act is the act of devotion, which is to perform a spectacular demonstration of love. I think we can both agree that’s the wedding.”

“So, then what’s act two?” You whispered, feeling an almost electric atmosphere once you asked.

“The Act of Disclosure, which I think we should do here and now, otherwise it kind of defeats the object of telling an intimate secret… We can’t really do that in front of a crowd.”

Swerve waited with bated breath to see your reaction; asking someone who wasn’t prepared to reveal something intimate about themselves wasn’t exactly comforting.

“I…” You took a deep breath. “On Earth, there was always so much pressure to find someone who you’re meant to be with. They don’t really show it on TV, but we are told all the time that we have to find somebody or die alone, there’s never any time to relax or be free under so much damn pressure and it is terrifying to think that we- that I was brainwashed into it just like everyone else. ”

“I never trusted anyone enough to think of them as someone I’d want to be with. When I got here, I acted more confident and mature and, I um, guess it was kind of a clean slate for me. I never actually expected that I’d find someone to spend my life with but suddenly, when the pressure to fall in love was off, I met you. Swerve, you are my happy ending, when I didn’t think I could have one anymore. I don’t um- Is that what you were thinking? Is it intimate enough? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be do-”

Swerve pulled you into a hug, his entire body convulsing in silent sobs. Suddenly, you knew why this step was so important, and so you held him, until he was ready to share his secret.

Swerve shook himself, as if trying to physically shake his nerves away, though it was evident he couldn’t as his vocaliser filled with static when he spoke. “Um, I’ve… Let’s face it, I’ve lived through a war. I’ve seen horrible things, done worse sometimes but that’s no secret of any Cybertronian. My secret is- W-What I’m trying to say… When war lasts that long, you have to expect that people, even the most desperate are going to be pushed into relationships, some of which last, most of which break. Some are intimate, but a lot were purely sexual… My point is, that even though I looked for anything in either of those categories, nobody ever loved me- Scrap, nobody even liked me enough to well… Y’know, uh- You were my first.”

Swerve half-expected you to laugh, despite the sober atmosphere. Instead you drew him close once again, staring into his visor, “Then all those others were idiots and I got lucky. I love you and I am so damn proud to be your first.”

Swerve looked away, “You’re not embarrassed by that?”

You shook your head, feeling your way over to his interface panel, a misty glint to your eyes. Swerve grabbed hold of you gently, still not meeting your gaze,

“Then… Then you won’t be embarrassed if I ask to wait till after the wedding? I know we already did it before but now… I want to wait till we’re married, and you are Mrs. Swerve.”

You drew back scowling, “What the hell, Swerve?”

He shrank back from you, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Why? Why would I be Mrs Swerve? You don’t even have a last name, if anything, you’d be Mr (L/N).”

Swerve’s jaw dropped as he stared at you, soon grinning goofily. “Is this how it’s gonna be from now on?” He asked. “You giving the orders and me just obeying like the mindless idiot who worships you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Thank Primus,” He laughed, grabbing you and rolling back onto the berth so you were on his chassis again.

You woke up, with a nauseous stomach, finally afraid now it was your wedding day. How had seven days passed so quickly?

“Swerve?” You mumbled. “You awake?”

You turned over, finding the berth empty, aside from a note that had been messily scrawled over the rest of the berth.

Hey fleshbag, it’s bad luck to see the groom on the wedding.

Swerve will be returned, mostly in one piece at the wedding.

- M. O. H. (MECH OF HONOUR)

You smiled, the message alleviating your nerves slightly. All the same, you wanted to call Swerve and make sure he wasn’t getting cold pedes. Had it not been for a banging on the door, you would have.

“Who is it?” You called, falling off the berth ungracefully and hissing as you rubbed your sore hip.

“It’s your fairy godmother,” Brainstorm answered cheerily. “With your carriage and might I say, a very glamorous ensemble for you.”

You opened the door wide, “…Does it have your face on it?”

Brainstorm gasped, covering his faceplate playfully. “Y/N, this is your big day and you think I would make it about me? How dare you? I’ll have you know that this is a traditional Earth wedding outfit that I have lovingly synthesized with you in mind.”

“So Perceptor wouldn’t let you?”

“Not even when I offered to put his photo on it too, talk about selfish.”

You nodded almost mournfully, playing along with his game, “That prick.”

“Yeah… Anyway, here it is,” He stepped outside, bringing your outfit back with him. It was in the traditional white, but instead of being a dress or a tuxedo, it was both. There was a small white zip for you to tear away either the skirt or the pants so you could choose your style. You teared up slightly.

“Yeah,” Brainstorm said sympathetically, “I mean it is good, but I’d cry too if my face wasn’t on it, where it clearly should be. No time for that now though, your carriage awaits.”

You tore your eyes away from the outfit, peeking through the door to see a giant truck with a bow on it; the bow had Brainstorm’s face on it.

“Magnus?” You asked, somewhat dazed.

“(Y/N), it’s almost time for your wedding and you have not even done your hair yet? This is going to throw everything off schedule,” Ultra Magnus reprimanded, proving that it was indeed him. He sighed, switching to his communicator, “Rodimus, (Y/N) isn’t ready yet… I already told you- No I will not use those ridiculous code names and furthermore- You will refer to me as Ultra Magnus or else- Fine,” Ultra Magnus said defeatedly, apparently losing whatever argument he was in with Rodimus. “Flaming Cupid, Princess Perfect is running late. Keep Lucky Orange calm and where he is, we will be there soon.”

You giggled quietly to yourself.

“I heard that Princess- I mean (Y/N). Get inside and get ready. Schedules wait for nobody.”

“Okay, I’m going, but real quick, are you comfortable doing this? You’ve never driven me anywhere before.”

“(Y/N), this may well be the most important day of your life, I would not be here if it wasn’t.”

Brainstorm leaned over to you, covering his mouth-plate and whispering, “He was afraid anyone else would speed.”

“Speed laws are to be obeyed,” Ultra Magnus warned you exasperatedly.

With that, you skipped back into your room to get ready for the first day of the rest of your life.

Swerve waited at the end of the aisle with shaking legs, the only thing that kept him from pacing was Megatron’s servo on his shoulder; the action was supposed to be supportive, but coming from Megatron, it only felt intimidating.

“I’m gonna purge my tanks,” Swerve whimpered.

“Do it glitch, I dare ya,” Whirl warned from opposite him, throwing a metal, painted bouquet at Swerve and hitting him square on the head, much to Megatron’s chagrin.

“Hey!” Rodimus picked up the bouquet, shoving it at Whirl’s chassis. “Remember, we’re here for (Y/N).”

“And me too, right?” Swerve squeaked, feeling faint.

Rodimus rolled his optics, “Yeah, yeah, you too, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Suddenly, music began playing, and everyone stood up as they’d been told to do. Nautica, Rewind, Chromedome, Riptide and Tailgate ran to the front where they were supposed to be just in time for Ultra Magnus to drive around the corner and let you out. Ultra Magnus transformed, spotting his Brainstorm bow for the first time and tearing it off in disgust. He took his place in the back, while Rung went to your side in his holo-form, so he could link arms with you.

You barely had time to look around at all the intricate decorations as you were walked down the aisle towards Swerve who looked completely dumbfounded that you’d actually showed up.

“Are you nervous?” Rung asked you quietly.

“Absolutely,” You whispered back.

“Don’t be, from everything you’ve told me over our messages this past week, you’ll do great.”

You squeezed his arm in thanks.

“I believe it is customary for the ‘father of the bride’ to offer a compliment. I may not be your creator, but I must say, you are glowing. I am truly happy for you (Y/N), ah, but here is where we part ways.”

Rung went to take his seat, but you pulled him back slightly, pecking his cheek, “Thank you. For everything, I mean. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Rung put a hand over his spark, bowing his head humbly and leaving your side, as you went to join Swerve.

“Finally,” Rodimus groaned, “That took forever.”

Chromedome nudged him warningly, giving Whirl just enough time to lean close to you, “Told you I’d get the glitch here in one piece.”

You nodded, holding back a laugh at the already unconventional wedding.

“Alright,” Rodimus boomed, “Let’s get on with it so we can get to the P-A-R-T-Y!”

Megatron glared at Rodimus, silently telling him to tone it down, but Rodimus didn’t care as he went into a full-on impression of an over-the-top-preacher. “I have been told that Act two of the Conjunx Rites has been completed, can I get a HALLELUJAH?!”

The entire room cringed and Rodimus scowled, “Ugh fine.” He grew semi-serious, facing you and Swerve with a smile, “Swerve, (Y/N), if you would like to initiate Act One of the Conjunx Rites?”

You reached out for Swerve’s servo, smiling radiantly the entire time. Thankful that you had made the first move, Swerve grabbed your hand gratefully, squeezing a little too tight, though you didn’t mention it.

“Very good, and I believe you have something to give one another?”

Once again, you surprised Swerve by holding out an orange metal box, identical to his. He reached out carefully, “(Y/N)… What-”

“Open it,” You said.

He did, finding a locket that would fit perfectly in one of his sub-spaces. He flicked open the locket, finding a lock of hair inside. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape at the unexpected gift.

“I may not have any inner-energon, but I figured this is close enough.”

Rewind leaned forward to get a better view, his camera displaying a live-feed to all the vid-screens on the ship, including two large ones for all the attendees.

“Ha ha,” Riptide laughed, “Gross.”

Nautica nudged him and Swerve ignored the pair as he tucked the locket delicately into his subspace, offering you his own box shortly afterwards, letting you put on the energon ring yourself because his servos were shaking so badly.

“Great,” Rodimus clapped his servos together, “Then that leaves act four, Swerve, I believe you’ve prepared some vows but I looked at them and they were long, so here’s a queue card that I wrote and believe me, it’s an improvement.”

He pulled a card from behind him which Megatron firmly snatched away, glaring the entire time, “Let. Him. Speak.”

Rodimus grumbled, stepping back, “Fine. Bet he doesn’t say ‘Till we are one’ though.”

All optics and Rewind’s camera went onto Swerve who stood dumbly, unsure of what to say now that he didn’t have his datapad with the speech on it. “I um-” His voice filled with static and he had to wait a minute to clear it. Ratchet creeped behind him, turning a fan on in case he overheated; you withheld a wry smile.

“(Y/N),” Swerve began, “You- You’re the Monica to my Chandler. You listen to me even when I get crazy and I know I’m not good enough for you, Primus, this whole ship does, but you’re here anyway. I want to spend every nano-click with you, in the non-creepy way. You’re my universe.”

The static began again and Swerve had to take a small step back, though he still held onto you, more for support than anything else.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus said, “Care to add anything to that?”

“What can I say other than what I’ve already said?” You mused. “You’re my happy ending Swerve, and if you can deal with all my gross human stuff, that’s good enough for me. I love you, you’re my lucky star… and I’m totally in it for the free drinks,” You laughed and the crowd chuckled along with you.

“Then by the power vested in me,” Rodimus went back to his preacher voice, “as Co-Captain of this ship, I present to you, these Rodimus stars for the Lost Light’s first ever interspecies marriage.” Seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out two gold stars, passing the human-sized one to you and handing the other to Swerve. “I now pronounce you Conjunx Endurae and mech and wife.” He looked at Swerve, “What are you waiting for? Kiss your lady love!”

You didn’t wait for Swerve as you jumped into his open arms, kissing him while the crew cheered.

The two of you were broken up by a loud shot from another gun Whirl had managed to smuggle in. Once again, Ultra Magnus stared mournfully at the ceiling, wondering exactly where Whirl had got the other gun from; he had confiscated last week’s after the first incident.

Whirl picked you up, “FIRST ONE TO THE PARTY GETS A PRIZE KISS OFF (Y/N).”

A mass of Cybertronians transformed, each trying to beat Whirl to the bar while Swerve was left alone, wondering how he was still left competing with the crew over you, even now that you were married.

After you’d given a victory kiss to Whirl, the party kicked off to a roaring start, with you being dragged off in every direction while Swerve tried to catch up. Finally, you managed to reach him at the bar, which he glared at enviously, hating that Mirage was serving drinks, even on the happiest day of his life.

“Hello, Mr (L/N),” You bowed graciously.

“Hello, Mrs Swerve,” Swerve curtsied. He offered you his arm, “If I may ask you for a dance?”

“How courteous of you,” You smiled, then paused to listen to the current song. “Yep, I always wanted my first dance to be to Wrecking Ball.”

Swerve snickered, “I’m afraid not.”

He led you to the dancefloor then waved at Blaster, who instantly switched the song off. Frank Sinatra’s ever sweet melody, ‘I Love You Baby,’ played instead and you bit your lip, fearing your face would practically split open from smiling too much. Swerve led, matching the pace of the song, and gazing at you adoringly the entire time.

“This was your big surprise?” You asked.

He nodded vigorously, not trusting his voice to match the lie he’d just told; so long as you thought the song was his secret, he was fine.

You leaned into his chassis, ignoring the faster pace of the chorus so you could simply hold onto him, spinning slowly, “I love you too.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Swerve responded ecstatically, picking you up bridal style. You squealed, letting him twirl around, helpless to stop him anyway. All around, the night was perfect and you would never dream of asking for anything more.

Later on, when you were distracted once again by many a bot who wanted to congratulate you, Swerve received a comm on his private channel. He checked his messages, finding a text from Brainstorm and Perceptor, telling him his request was ready. Checking on you once again, Swerve slipped out, transforming so he could be at Perceptor’s lab in record time.

He let himself in, finding the two bots talking about you and the ethics of the project Swerve had asked them to complete. “It’s ready?” Swerve asked. “And you’re sure it will work?”

“Of course,” Perceptor said almost offendedly. “We invented it. It works.”

“Can I see?”

Brainstorm grabbed a remote control, pressing it with flair so one of the flooring panels lifted up as well as thick plumes of smoke.

Perceptor waved the smoke away casually, “Was the smoke machine really necessary?”

“Well you wouldn’t let me have the laser show,” Brainstorm explained. “Where’s your sense of presentation?”

Swerve didn’t listen to either of the pair, he was too focused on what had come out of the floor to care.

Perceptor turned his attention to Swerve as the orange mech stroked a lifeless mini-bot model that looked remarkably like you yet worlds different at the same time. “Are you sure (Y/N) will agree to this? We are talking about moving her consciousness from one body to another.”

“Human life is too short,” Swerve said as if it was an answer. “She doesn’t have to say yes today. Primus! I want her to stay human as long as she can but… But I just got her, I’m not losing her in the blink of an optic. Make sure this will work, I’ll get her to agree. She’s everything to me.”

He walked out of the lab, transforming so he could get back to the party. Finally, things were going his way.

THE END.

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#more than meets the eye #MTMTE #transformers #transformers idw #Transformers MTMTE #maccadam #The Lost Light #ll #swerve #swerve x reader #swerve x human reader #reader #reader insert #every bot ever known to man #chapter 21 #part 21 #a happy ending

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petty-revenge-stories · 6 years

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You wanna wear tough guys pants? Good luck cleaning them tomorrow.

I work as a bartender in a small cocktail bar for some time now, and I'm usually chill. But bullies can still push my buttons in a wrong way. Before starting, I may be in the wrong for doing this, but it is what it is.

A week ago, a bunch of guys came for a few. They seemed like OK dudes, early 20-is, but the group dynamic was kinda off. Introducing the main antagonist. Obnoxious guy, too loud, snapping his fingers at me when ordering (don't snap fingers at bartenders kids, we're not dogs), punching his friends in the shoulders all the time,... A sportier, really aggressive version of a David Spade character he was.

Next to David Spade, sat the victim of most of his "playful" teasings. Silently enduring his shit, I really felt sorry for this fellow. He wasn't a drinker, but he looked like he would rather be drinking distilled devils piss than continue sitting next to this macho maniac. He was really uncomfortable. David continued to bugg him to take a shot at least, "come on, one with me, don't be a pussy, a bitch,..." until, after whole night of persuasion, finally my dude waved the white flag. Ok, lets do one shot together, then leave me be.

"Two of your most fucked up shots," Spade shouted snapping his fucking fingers, while I imagined snapping his fucking neck. Oh, you'll get a fucked up shot, buddy. I made this two layered shots, but while looking almost the same, they were different. David got stuff like Red Jacques Senaux Absinthe (75% alcohol), Stroh (80% alcohol), tabasco (110% flaming diarrhea), really nasty business all together, and other guy got mostly syrups, juices, harmless stuff. They looked almost identical, Red Absinth can pass visually as a cranberry juice, Stroh as a syrup from brown sugar, Sambuca as anything colorless, etc...

They took their shots and all hell broke loose. Other guy chugged his shot like a champion, not even flinching (why would he, he drank juice). But David Spade... Boy, oh boy. He looked like he'd have a brain aneurism. Tears pouring from eyes, coughing like his lungs want to come out, he had a face and a posture of a man who just got waterboarded with some sort of chilly sauce. Other guy looked surprised until he caught a wink from me, but David Spade and the rest of the crew, now roaring with laughter about his misery, suspected nothing.

They got their shots on the house, poor dude was left alone, and David was a good boy for the rest of the night, deflatedly enduring small mockings from his fellows. Now, I may have used my powers in a wrong way, but this is the first and only time I messed with customers drinks. And I regret nothing. He was rude, aggressive even, to everyone around him. Fuck you, sporty David Spade.

Here's a recipe for a "Fuck you, David Spade": Equal parts of Sambuca Molinari, Red Absinthe Jacques Senaux (75%), freshly squeezed lime juice and Austrian liquer Stroh (80%). Add tabasco at will, you can mix it with lime juice. Use a bar spoon if you want to make a layered shot. Stroh is placed at the top, because it's the best burning alchohol - you can make a flaming shot out of it, a "Burned David Spade", if you like.

Disclaimer: I have nothing against real David Spide, I like him actually. But his sporty doppelganger deserves a kick in the butt.

(source) (story by Strahozor)

#pettyrevenge #by Strahozor #petty revenge #revenge stories #petty revenge stories #petty #revenge #revenge story

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eternalsshipsandfics · 5 years

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In Cold Blood: Chapter 7

Summary: The illustrious Kuran family is thrown into disarray when the crown princess disappears under suspicious circumstances. Will she ever be found?

Zero was bemused. It was usually his say so that any large (and large wasn't particularly big for this colony, he mused) group of people would go out into the cold light of day, and he didn't necessarily need to be involved. There were plenty of capable raiders to choose from in these winding tunnels. And it wasn't like they were in desperate need for supplies. The raid was a failure due to the ambush, but they now had Yuuki's pureblood blood for use. He was doubtful that her blood would have the corrosive qualities that had been present in the mystery pureblood the former leader had drank from. She was just too big-hearted for that. So he was a little confused as to why the two in front of him (one of them Kaito, though Zero had been under the impression that they had fallen out) were so desperately pleading with him to go with them.

"But why do you need me so badly? You can handle a little raid without me." He raised an eyebrow in emphasis. There wouldn't be a surprise party waiting for them when they had decided on this raid all of a sudden.

"Because you're the best for this. Come on! That can wait!"

Zero gave a long suffering sigh, shuffling a pile of papers away from himself. Sometimes, it was like he was running a day care and he was surrounded by children. They did have some odd moments of clinginess that he couldn't fully understand.

"Let's make this quick."

"Yes! Thanks." The female hunter placed a grateful hand on his arm. It was a pain to be so needed, really.

~Z~

Yuuki received the agreed upon signal from Yui, who ducked out of sight as the door opened and Zero's motley crew exited. He almost looked defeated; mild annoyance etched into every corner of his face. She linked her hands behind herself in an attempt to look casual.

"Oh, are you heading out?" She asked sweetly, drawing his irritated stare to her for a moment.

"Apparently so." His words were dripping with weariness. If she hadn't been planning to cheer him up when he returned, she would have called a halt to the plan. He was clearly stressed and had much to be attending to. But, that heavy level of stress warranted a heavier level of relaxation. "Did you need something?"

"It's not important. Enjoy your trip."

He snorted ironically.

"Thanks."

She waited until the trio were out of sight, maintaining her innocent appearance all the way. Luckily, Zero seemed too distracted to notice. Following along in Yui's footsteps, she walked hurriedly to the far hallway where their helpers were patiently waiting.

Liberating them to decorate the main living area set the stage for the unity she witnessed for the next few solid hours. The dull brown setting was quickly transformed by nimble hands into a vibrant, welcoming setting. Old birthday streamers fluttered across the ceiling while the caterers set up various tables for a rare buffet.

As the minor tasks began to make up the majority of the time, Yuuki excused herself to the kitchens. She hadn't had much experience with cooking, but she knew that people preferred home made to store bought. Sure, it was considered a luxury amongst many circles, but making chocolate couldn't be too hard, could it?

She energetically set to work, having had the ingredients set aside for her by the cooks. She had heard from those same cooks that Zero didn't particularly like sweet things, so she had requested further ingredients to make a less sweet flavour.

Yui had also excused himself from the activities to help her, but had been very distracted by the sight of a sugar covered Yuuki. Yuuki should have been annoyed at his lack of help, but she did want this to be from her alone. For some reason, she felt that it would be more special that way.

The rebellious youngster was quick to sneak one of the little chocolate balls from under Yuuki's nose. It was probably for the best that she didn't see his reaction.

"There! Done!" She exclaimed triumphantly, fists clenched in a victorious pose. She wiped a hand across her face, merely smearing the excess sugar over her face instead of clearing it off of her face. Yui grabbed a small cloth to wipe her with, the sense of taste slowly returning to his tongue. "Do we have anything to put them in?"

"Oh… I don't think so." Yui had overseen the collection of various supplies, and he couldn't remember seeing anything that resembled packaging. Yuuki hadn't told him that she was going to be making Zero chocolates, therefore he hadn't prepared for it. Yuuki scanned the room, eyes settling on a freshly washed cloth. It would have to do for now.

"Make sure no one comes here. I'll pick them up when Zero gets back." Yuuki waited for Yui's confirmation before they both headed back to the main hall. During the time that they had been gone, the preparations had been completed and everyone was talking excitedly, a cheery buzz hovering in the air.

It warmed her heart to see the complete transformation. Both the location and the people. She would make sure that the injured who couldn't attend would be included; it would be cruel to allow them to suffer while the others celebrated.

The buzz dulled quickly as their sentry ran into the hallway yelling at everyone to shut up. The excited conversation transformed into an expectant silence, all eyes focused on the entrance through which their leader would appear.

Seeing the familiar silver head triggered the planned response; the one room filled with hundreds of voices all calling out in unison.

"Surprise!"

Zero looked like he had walked into a wall. The metamorphosis from confident stride to a confused stumble was something to behold; Yuuki held back a small giggle. He gazed from the birthday banners, to the tables lining the room full to the brim with food, to the band set up on a makeshift stage at the back.

His voice came out in a cracked squeak, making him sound completely different to his usual calm and collected persona. "Wha—This—"

Yuuki wondered if she had made a mistake, the poor boy looked like he was having an aneurism as they watched. Yui decided to break the awkward silence.

He ran forwards to the older male, holding out a small box to him. "Happy birthday, Zero!"

Zero raised a hand to his mouth as he cleared his throat. He accepted the box with a small "thank you." His eyes flickered up to the banners once more.

"So, this was…?"

"It was Yuuki's idea!" Yui explained happily, loud voice echoing through the silent room. Kaito stepped forward, one hand squeezing Zero's shoulder reassuringly.

"Look, I know that we haven't been seeing eye to eye lately, but you deserve a break."

"You were in on this?" Zero questioned sceptically, "You were working with Yuuki?"

"I was working with Yui, actually."

"The end result is the same."

"Well, she happens to be right this time. It's been a trying few months for all of us. We need a night off. You most of all." Zero appeared to still be processing 'she happens to be right this time.' Yuuki could barely believe that she had heard it also. When he had stopped wondering which alternate dimension he had stepped into, he replied.

"You're right." A cheer arose from the listening crowd. They had finally received the go ahead they had been eagerly waiting for. Hundreds of glasses were raised in a silent toast.

Yuuki breathed in the happy, relaxed air in enjoyment. She almost felt like she was back at home; a much more relaxed soiree, not driven by the need for political gain. His beautiful lilac eyes met her chocolate ones.

"How did you get everyone on board with this?"

"You mean because I'm a hated vampire?"

"Yes."

"It's like I said. They all care about you. When we mentioned how hard you've been working, everyone agreed. The slacking off from work was a secondary reason, I promise."

"I don't know about that. This lot is a group of slackers."

"So you're saying that there are lots of parties? Here I was thinking I was doing something unusual!"

"Yeah, sorry about that."

Zero had his usual stoic expression on his face, but he definitely had a happy aura surrounding him. He could try and hide his own joy all he liked, but (as dulled as she thought they must be) her senses were still of the finely honed vampire kind.

"Go and mingle! Have fun! If you even can." She teased, giving him a gentle push.

"Does this 'fun' really exist? I always thought that it was a myth."

"Go and find out!"

The band had begun their set; a sweet slow song to begin the festivities. She allowed herself to simply listen to it for a moment, before she felt an insistent tugging at her sleeve.

"Dance with me!" Yui demanded, pulling the much taller Yuuki with him to a clear spot somewhere in the middle. Yuuki giggled. She wasn't sure how they would be able to dance together properly; she almost felt like she was a mother teaching her son to dance.

She hoped that he wouldn't step onto her feet; they were well used but delicate, after all. After discovering that Yui couldn't dance after all, she lead him in a waltz. She wasn't a particularly good dancer herself, but this was the favoured dance amongst vampire nobles. She had been taught this one since she was young. Remembering how her teacher had taught her, she imparted the same wisdom to the madly concentrating Yui. She was gratified to see him quickly picking up on the tips and tricks she used.

"I'm going to have to get my chocolates. I can't be the only one who doesn't give Zero anything on his birthday!"

"Aww, but we're having fun!" Yui protested, tightening his grip on her waist. She reached around to loosen his arms.

"I'll come back!" Yui pouted up at her, not allowing her to go free. "Yui!"

The exasperated call had Yui submit to her will. He stepped back, almost knocking into a twirling couple behind him. It seemed that the centre had become the unofficial dancing floor. That was to be expected, she supposed.

She caught a glimpse of silver in her peripheral vision. He seemed to be just chatting with a little group that had gathered around him. She was glad that he seemed to be enjoying himself. With that thought, she hurried to the kitchen.

Still empty. Good. Seeing her make shift package in the same place she had left it in, she scooped it up from the table. Slipping it into a pocket, she made her way back. As she did so, she felt her heart anxiously begin to race. Coming back to the hall, she lost her drive to find Zero.

She nervously hovered at the edge of the room, angry at herself. She had spent hours on making these, so why didn't she want to give them to him now? She didn't understand herself. She wasn't about to be the one guest who didn't give Zero anything either, as she had told Yui. Such an action was unforgivable, especially as it had been her idea to celebrate his birthday in the first place.

As she was talking herself back into seeking out Zero, the silver wolf himself made it unnecessary.

"You're done dancing?"

"Yeah. I had to go get something."

"What was it?" He asked innocently. She felt that heat rising inside her again and hoped that it wasn't showing on her face.

"Well, you see…"

"It's alright if you don't want to tell me."

"No, it's not that." She steeled herself. She had spent hours on this. She could do this. He was looking at her curiously, but he had the sense to stay quiet. "Happy birthday!"

"You're giving me a rag?"

"No! They're inside it!" She pouted, pulling the top layer of cloth off of her creations. "I made them myself."

She was ashamed of the way her voice rose in pitch as she said it. Zero had noticed too, giving her an odd look. She couldn't meet his eyes.

"Chocolate is a delicacy where I come from, so I thought I'd make you some. I know you don't have much time for these things." She mumbled, the tips of her fingers pressing together nervously. He popped one into his mouth. She looked up hopefully.

The look on his face was… not positive.

"No wonder vampires are such killjoys, if this is what they consider a delicacy."

"Hey!" She was about to follow up with a more coherent retort, but the words died in her throat. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She had never thought that she would be privy to the sight before her; Zero was giving her the most beautiful smile she had ever seen. The sweet look he had given to Yui paled in comparison. That smile was making her feel things she… hadn't felt before. He was gorgeous.

"Thank you, Yuuki." Suddenly, his reaction to her chocolates didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore, as long as he kept smiling. As long as he was happy.

"You're welcome. You've been through more than enough. I hope this day will help you see that life is worth living."

He opted not to respond to that. She felt a little uneasy in his lack of response. She knew that, as a hunter, he would experience many more hardships in his future. But didn't these moments count for anything? Didn't she count for anything?

A firm hand was gingerly extended to her. She became aware of the new song being played; another slow song.

"Shall we dance?" Yuuki flushed. Dancing with Yui was one thing, but dancing with Zero… something was different. Especially with such a romantic sounding song. She couldn't very well refuse him on his birthday, and she reaffirmed to herself that she didn't want to refuse him, either.

"We shall." She placed her hand in his with an excited smile. She wondered when he had had time to learn to dance in the first place. Had he been taught in childhood, like she had?

She heard a few murmured whispers about Zero's choice in dance partner, but she wasn't in a position to care about it. She was wrapped up in the warmth of his body, pressed close to hers. She almost wished that she had been born human; he could choose her as a partner then.

Yuuki! She scolded herself, stop acting like a girl in love! The thought made her cold for a moment. Was she in love? She had been thinking about him more and more, but that wasn't love, right? No, she had been worried about him. He was working himself into the ground. Yui had worried about him too. It didn't mean that Yui was in love with Zero.

She realised that she had been gazing into his eyes in an almost unconscious way. She pulled her gaze from his, the thoughts chasing themselves around in her head leaving her unable to meet his eyes. She instead rested her head on his chest as she had seen female vampires do with their partners at soirees. His heart beat was steady, unlike hers. She was a little disappointed at that.

She allowed her eyes to slide closed, enjoying Zero's secure arm around her waist. This moment was a timeless treasure that she would cherish forever. It felt simultaneously like a lifetime and like no time at all. So when the music stopped, and they parted, she couldn't stop the discontent that flowed through her.

"Are you okay? Did I hurt you?" He was looking at her in concern. She felt warmth pooling in the corners of her eyes. She reached up to wipe the rapidly forming tears from her eyes in shock. She hadn't even realised how overwhelming her emotions had become.

"No, it's fine. I don't know why this is happening."

"Ah. I was a bad dancer."

"The worst." She laughed off her moment of weakness. She was being silly and she knew it. "Um, enjoy the rest of your evening. I have to go."

"Alright. I'll see you later."

"Yeah." She smiled briefly before she turned rapidly on her heel and jogged out of the room to safety, her confusing emotions threatening to control her.

~Z~

Aido scanned the energetic hallway. No one was coming from the left. Good. He turned his head. And the right was empty too. He tried to listen to potential sounds of approach over the sounds of drawers being wrenched open in the door behind him. Kaname had approached him a few days after the public address (the crowd was disturbingly willing to see the kidnapper's blood shed) with some concerns that he was having. Concerns specifically pertaining to his uncle.

Which was why he was now standing guard outside said uncle's office, ensuring that Rido wouldn't catch his unruly nephew in the act of searching for any clues that might confirm or deny his suspicions.

It had been a long, long while since anyone had seen Juuri Kuran. It was a detail that he had noticed, and yet he hadn't. He had believed what he had been told; that she had decided to stay away to grieve after hearing the tragic fate of her husband. The logical side of his brain had kept trying to tell him that even before her husband's death, she had been missing for a few months at least. If he was honest with himself, she had disappeared before Yuuki had been taken by hunters.

There had been supposed letters, which had been read to Kaname from Rido as Aido had been told. Kaname had told him that he found it odd that Juuri would write solely to Rido; he had never received any such letters from her. And those who had been in the manor for any length of time knew that Juuri's relationship with Rido was rocky at best.

He turned to see Kaname stepping out of the office beside him, a worried expression marring his face.

"I found the letters. There's definitely something off with them, but I can't quite put my finger on what."

"So Lord Rido really did something to Lady Juuri?"

"So it seems." He turned his worried gaze to Aido. "This scares me. What if he comes for me next?"

"We don't know if he really did anything to Lady Juuri! It's just speculation, right?" He hurried to reassure his friend. He didn't like that look on him.

"I'm pretty sure. I'll give him the title. Maybe he'll leave me alone, then."

"The title? King?"

"Yes. He's always wanted to be king."

That… seemed fairly accurate from what Aido had seen of the strange man. Kaname was making the smart move, taking away himself as a threat. He puffed out his chest a little.

"I'll protect you, Lord Kaname!"

"I'm sure you will." That sad smile almost broke his heart.

~Z~

Everything seemed to return to normal after Zero's party ended, albeit with a much more positive attitude. Aesthetics wise, it was as though nothing had taken place at all. Zero himself seemed to be acting the same, he'd returned to his stoic, world on his shoulders self.

He still seemed the same around Yuuki, the few times that she allowed him to be in her presence. When she was near him, her heart raced and her breath came in short, painful bursts. She had also begun to fear that she would use her fangs; a craving that she hadn't had before taking over her mind. He made her feel things that she couldn't control, and the party had only made that painfully obvious to her.

So she had some reservations when she was summoned to see Zero by someone who looked fairly official. The nervousness that she had felt before the dance increased tenfold as she knocked on his door.

"Come in." She peeked in before allowing herself to take those difficult steps into his presence.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. I would have spoken to you in a less formal setting, but I seem to have offended you."

"No…"

"It doesn't matter." Zero rose to his feet and casually sauntered around his desk, leaning on one corner. "I wanted to tell you that you're free to go."

"Free to go?" She didn't know how to feel about this. Seeing her family after all this time would be amazing, not to mention Yori, but she wanted to learn more about the hunters who had slowly been accepting her. She felt at home here, as odd as that may sound to an outsider.

"Yes. Thanks to your blood, there are no serious injuries left in the medical wing. And you told me yourself that you miss your family. There's no reason for you to stay here."

She felt an unexpected hurt at that statement. Was he kicking her out because she had been avoiding him for a little while? He seemed to see her pained expression.

"I can't keep you locked up here your whole life. Go home, Yuuki. Go and be with the people who care about you."

"Don't you care about me?" She blurted out before she could stop herself, covering her mouth in embarrassment.

"Don't make this personal, Yuuki."

"Alright. If you want me to leave, I'll leave."

"I do."

She felt a hurt anger rising up in her, threatening to set her vampire instincts loose. What had she expected? They were natural enemies. Incompatible. She had been reminding herself of that while avoiding him, hadn't she? Besides, he was just grateful for the effort she had gone to for him. There wasn't anything more.

"Well, what about your mole?"

"Found him. He's gone now. Actually, that's why you need to go. We'll be leaving this area soon. We can't afford for him to bring his masters here."

"What? I wouldn't be able to find you?"

"No." He cleared his throat. "You're too attached, Yuuki. You knew that you wouldn't be here forever."

Her jaw clenched.

"I knew that." She took in a deep breath, calming herself. She had known that this day was coming. She looked up at him as he approached her.

"Take this. Keep it close." He pressed something into her hand. The small dagger that he had given her when they had gone on the supplies trip. She hadn't even realised that it had gone. She held it tightly.

"I'll say goodbye to Yui."

He nodded his approval. "Goodbye, Yuuki."

"Goodbye, Zero…"

#vampire knight #zeki #eternal zeki #radiant zeki #fanfiction #archive

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m39 · 2 years

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Decade of DOOMstruction(90s): 8-9 maps long WADs

If some of you don’t know/remember what an Episode Replacement is, it is a WAD that has eight to nine maps, which is the amount of levels that each of the three original episodes from Doom I (and Thy Flesh Consumed) has.

That’s how I interpret episode replacement. That’s how other people interpret episode replacement. So now let’s find out which one of these from the 90s gave me the most fun.

1994 – SLAUGHTER UNTIL DEATH

Out of all ’94 WADs that I have played so far, this one feels the most dated to me. It may be tough if you go here straight from the first Doom but now it feels like a face slap that you won’t even feel. Design-wise speaking, while there are still some locations that look good like the last two maps, now, from my modern perspective, the WAD looks basic in many places. Not to mention some decisions that will stagnate your process like some of the long-moving elevators and whatever the fuck that chessboard divided fuckery in Damned Bastards was. Still, it was the first WAD created by The Innocent Crew, and while it comes out as fine in my opinion if I look at it by my newest standards, it needs to be judged with some levity.

1995 – THE ENIGMA EPISODE

Would you like some brain aneurism? ‘cause this WAD will give you that.

Jim Flynn was a really bizarre WAD maker from what I read/experienced. He could create some of the most beautiful maps possible in Doom Engine, not to mention how he helped in the creation of Boom source port. On the other hand, he had tendencies to shove nonsensical moon logic into his WADs.

The Enigma Episode is a collection of remastered WADs Jim created in 1994-95. And while today the maps may look... blocky for many of you (including me), it still looks very good by the 90s standards. Unfortunately, you may not feel like that since playing these maps may feel like a chore. Not completely in terms of moon logic puzzles surprisingly (‘cause I’ve experienced worse stuff and Jim gives you some clues as a form of throwing a bone), or/and demon-fighting (even though there is some unfair bullshit here and there), but because of the map sizes. You will likely spend at least 20 minutes per each of the maps if you are lucky, even if you know where to go and what to do next. After finishing one of these levels, you will want to die. This WAD took me around three days to complete due to the combination of things that I just mentioned.

I believe many people would like to try this WAD themselves, but personally, despite its pros, I can’t recommend it. Find something else. Something that doesn’t sacrifice the fun of Ripping and Tearing for worthless, overly cryptic puzzles.

1996 – THE TROOPERS’ PLAYGROUND

Fortunately, this WAD (unlike the last one) will not give you brain damage. Unfortunately, it might severely kick your arse.

This WAD has two glaring problems. The first one is the status bar being too dark, meaning that even the smallest ray of the sun will make it completely unreadable. The second problem is the new enemy that I like to call Green Baldy – a fucknut with the hitscanning gun as powerful as the Spider Mastermind’s chaingun, health big enough that he has a chance to survive two blasts from Super Shotgun/ Rocket Launcher and no wind-up. Every encounter with him for at least the first third of the WAD screams unfair difficulty.

And yet, somehow, I don’t know why, I ended up appreciating it more now than during my first encounter with it. I don’t know if that’s because of the previous WAD being a chore to play through, but still, I had more fun than the last time I played The Troopers’ Playground. And I’ll be honest with you for a moment; while I stand by that this WAD can be challenging, now, it was nothing compared to the other, hard, 90s WADs recommended by Doomworld.

1997 – DAWN OF THE DEAD

This one might be the second case of the WAD that I appreciate more now than in the past from this category. If someone asked me which episode replacement from the 90s should they play as first, I think I would suggest them this. Aside from (partially) music, everything in this WAD is purely vanilla flavored, and that’s actually okay since this WAD proves that you don’t need new enemies/weapons/textures to be good. And it’s all done with only Doom I assets, which makes it all even more impressive.

1999 – CRUSADES: AN UNHOLY WAR

Crusades is another WAD created by Richard Wiles, the creator of Dickie 10, which I claimed as one of the best vanilla WADs of the 90s. Unfortunately, I don’t think that it is as good as its author’s previous WAD. The main problem with Crusades is its pacing AKA it forces you to constantly fight Barons while you rarely have ammo for more powerful guns, even if you aggressively conserve ammo for them. And it’s like that until you reach Bloodbath.

Ignoring Barons for the moment, not gonna lie, sometimes it looks very good. And it has some fun stuff for the Quake fans at the very end. New weapon sounds could’ve been better though. Also, the previously mentioned Bloodbath didn’t feel as frustrating as the last time I played it (praise the power of hindsight).

THE WINNER

I’m gonna be honest with you guys, I was expecting more fun from episode replacements but it all ended up as just good at best.

But I have to be professional here and choose the winner. And I’ve decided, that the Golden Spider Nest award (hilarious and original title) for the best episode replacement of the decade goes to Dawn of the Dead. As I said earlier, this would be the first WAD of this kind to recommend to someone completely new to the 90s WADs. As for the runner-up, it’s Slaughter Until Death. Even if it’s dated, I can still somewhat find good things in it. And it has fewer issues/extremes than the rest of the WADs from this category.

CONCLUSION

And, well, that’s basically it for the episode replacements. I hope the next category will be more exciting. I know for sure that it has one banger WAD to play.

Tune in next time folks, for the best 10-19 maps long WADs (with a little bonus at the end).

Bye!

#doom #review #doom 1 #Doom 2 #ultimate doom #doom mod #Doom WAD #Doom WADs’ Roulette #Decade of DOOMstruction

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skistarmovies · 4 years

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Weight (Stept Productions 2011)

SkiStar Movies Rating: 4/5 Stars

Clayton Vila, Sean Jordan, Shea Flynn, Alex Martini, Nick Matini, Cam Riley, Parker White, Tom Warnick, Charlie Owens, Sean Decker, Stu Havlerson, Ian Boll, Paul Bergeron, Noah Albaladejo, Mark Hoyt, Will Berman, Topher Baldwin, Maks Gorham, Joey Ciprari, Cam Boll

The Stept crew assault urban features with such incredible style and finesse and there’s such a sense of dedication to their art that you forget that Weight is all urban with only a few touches of park and back country skiing. There’s no big mountain, there are no heli shots, no tree skiing and yet this film is riveting. The tone, the pacing all draws you in to the Stept world. The single-minded devotion to nailing the trick and getting the shot is compelling and eminently re-watchable. Yes, that means you’re going to hit replay again and again. Weight is 39 of the most perfectly filled ski movie minutes you could ask for.

Because of the focus on urban skiing, Weight becomes a clear example of how urban skiers are the new graffiti artists of their time. Their canvas is the city, just like the brilliant artists of the 80s, the Keith Harings, the Futura 2000s and the Richard Hambletons, except here, their medium isn’t spray paint, it’s film and their visions are recorded and available forever (hopefully). Their art reclaims the city environment in ways never really imagined by the city dwellers who make their every day way past the hand rails, the ledges, the buildings and the oil tanks of their surroundings. Like skate-boarders before them, their vision of what can be done in their environment is entirely new, completely refreshing, and to be honest somewhat terrifying. The crashes that can and do occur and more than cringe- inducing. You just know that the X-Rays and the MRI pictures are going to be complete horror-shows. But the danger and the pain, while an ever-present reality in skiing, is an aside here. What’s on offer in Weight is the grace and the athletic form, yes, the steez, as these skiers refashion these urban settings into massive ski parks.

Shea Flynn leads off the attack in a segment with such dynamic edits that you feel like you’re in the octagon taking blows to the head from Manny Pacquiaro. Flynn skis with huge power as he smartly muscles through some exquisite urban carving. He makes a host of thrilling moves look easy until you see the crash sequence and then you better understand what he’s up against in setting up some of his tricks and how high his skill level is to be able to pull them off. Likewise, Clayton Vila has several eyeball-popping moves including the DVD’s cover shot jibbing over a street light. Cam Riley gives another “Mr. Intense” tantrum like he did in this year’s Poor Boyz movie The Grand Bizarre. If that’s what it takes to deliver great ski sequences, well, I’ll accept it. But if skiing massive rails doesn’t kill him, the brain aneurism brought on by the next fevered blow-up will. Sean Jordan nails some ridiculously intense features showing he’s name to watch from now on. Between regular Dew tour appearances and good movie segments like this, Jordan could be a sponsor’s dream. Including appearances by Parker White and Alex Martini, Weight possesses one of the smoothest skiing casts of rising talent out there.

Ironically, it was disaster that led to Weight’s ultimate triumph as a movie. Having been hit by injuries, Nick Martini took over more of the directing duties and Cam Riley took over more of the editing chores. Both skiers were able to deliver excellent sequences for Weight but their real achievement is to be seen in the directing and the editing, especially the editing in my mind. Martini and Riley along with brother Alex Martini and Matt Stauble have set up some banger shots to take into the editing suite where Clayton Vila gets in on the slicing and dicing action too. The sequences slip and slide, slow down and jump forward with all the bursting energy of the skiers themselves. The resulting style of the film matches the style of skiing in a visually arresting mix. Topping it all off, is the choice of the music. You figure you’d get a whole lot of hip hop and dance hall to soundtrack the gangster jibbing moves of an urban skiing crew like Stept and while there’s a touch of that in tracks like Jah Cure’s “Like I See It” (in Shea Flynn’s sequence) and The Roots’ “Rising Down” (in Sean Jordan’s scenes) what really adds an unexpected dimension is the use of minor key, introspective tracks like Devotcha’s “How It Ends” (in the opening sequence) and My Morning Jacket’s “Victory Dance” (in the segment at Breckenridge) and Purity Ring’s “Lofticries” (on Alex Martini’s back country trip). The vibe added there is less about testosterone-fueled daredevilry and more about straight-up guts and determination. Those styles of tracks add a more timeless element to the production and one that will age well into the future.

Winner of the Best Jib Movie (this was their first year in the pro category) at the 2011 International Freeski Film Festival, things are looking good for the future of the Stept crew. Catch this one. By Mark “The Attorney General” Quail

Watch the Trailer for Weight

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6EHWtBNqXYU

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keldae · 7 years

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For Xaja & Theron - ♡: Accidentally falling asleep together

This one was fun to do! Thanks for the prompt. ^.^

Why can things never go according to plan? Theron inwardly wondered as he leaned against the wall, frowning at the small crack in the otherwise-boarded-up window. Outside, Tatooine’s twin suns scorched the tiny, abandoned moisture farm that was just visible through the crack. At least the air inside the old hovel was sheltered from the sun, even if the airflow wasn’t that great.

He would have opened the window to try and get a crossbreeze going, but that would have just announced his and Xaja’s position to the large and well-armed pack of Sand People travelling past the farm. These ones, fortunately, seemed to be migratory and not inclined to settle down in the ruined buildings.

Unfortunately, they were moving at what Theron was convinced was the slowest possible pace. “I’ve seen Hutts move faster than this,” he quietly grumbled.

“To be entirely fair, it’s mid-afternoon. Maybe they’ll pick up their pace when it gets a little cooler.” Xaja slumped down in an entirely undignified heap beside the wall and took a sip from one of her water canteens. At least she and Theron hadn’t come unprepared to meet up with Choza to plan their takedown of the Star Fortress looming overhead, just out of Theron’s field of vision. “Are they still moving, at least?”

Theron glanced back out. “Yeah, and not towards us. But they’re still too close, we’ll be seen and chased down if we try to move now. I don’t know about you, but I’m not keen on fighting a group that size.”

“It’s too hot to fight anything,” Xaja complained. She’d shed her lightly armoured jacket, and now was down to a tank top that clung to her in just the right ways to make Theron feel a rush of heat that had nothing to do with Tatooine’s suns. “We’re in for a long wait, then?”

“Looks like it.” Theron forced his stare away from Xaja’s petite frame to take a final look out the window. “We’ve probably got an hour, at least. Assuming they don’t stop.”

“May as well take the opportunity for a rest, right?” Xaja raised one of the canteens and gave it a pointed shake in Theron’s direction as he turned back around. “Drink something. I don’t know how to save you if you die of dehydration out here.”

“What, aren’t you amazing at everything?” Theron teased as he mimicked her example, shrugging off his jacket and sitting down beside her. The red leather may have offered some protection from stray blaster bolts and sharp objects, but it was a relief to expose his bare arms to the air.

“Remember what happened the last time I was given medical equipment more complicated than a kolto gel pack?” Xaja shook her head and smiled wistfully as she handed Theron the canteen. “I think Doc nearly had an aneurism.”

It wasn’t any matter that their first touches had been over five years ago, or that Theron was a regular fixture in Xaja’s bed- the brush of their fingers on the canteen still sent a pleasurable jolt through him. “And here I’d thought he was just stressed out because you’d gone tearing through the Revanite camp to find me without a plan after ‘find me’,” he said with a chuckle.

“No- well, okay, maybe that, with only an Imperial agent for backup who Doc didn’t trust yet. But apparently my attempts to put kolto on you were a crime to medicine.” Xaja smiled, but Theron still caught a glimpse of the sadness in her eyes that talking about her old crew still brought up.

“I don’t remember a hell of a lot from between you hauling me out of that base and coming to in the village to hear him grumbling,” he quickly said to distract Xaja from the painful memories, “but I’m still here, so you can’t have done that terrible a job. For what it’s worth, my semi-conscious self then probably appreciated your efforts.” He paused and grinned. “And if past-Theron didn’t properly thank his rescuer and would-be medic then for saving his ass, I’d like to make up for that now.”

Xaja softly laughed, the grief in her eyes fading to amusement. “I can’t actually remember if past-Theron thanked past-Xaja for that, mostly because I spent most of that speeder ride terrified you were going to die on me anyway. But present-Xaja fully accepts those thanks, and would like to add that saving your ass was totally worth it.”

Theron grinned and leaned in to kiss Xaja’s cheek. “Mmm, still feel like I need to fully emphasize how much I appreciate all your heroism with saving my hide all those times…” he murmured as his lips travelled down to her jawline and neck, her pulse racing under her sweat-dampened skin.

“This is hardly the-” Xaja softly gasped as Theron found one tender area of her neck to nibble at. “… the time or place, Theron!” But her hands had still come up to touch him, slim fingers tangling into his hair to keep him right where he was on her neck.

“We do have time,” Theron whispered against her skin. “It’ll be a while before the tribe is pas-” Xaja suddenly froze, making the spy look up worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Shhh!” Xaja’s eyes darted to the crumbling staircase the pair had climbed up not much earlier. “We’ve got company.”

Theron frowned as he lifted his head, reaching for a blaster as he strained his ears and tried to forget how turned on he’d been seconds ago. “What do you feel?” he whispered.

Xaja’s eyes narrowed in concentration. “Two below us,” she breathed out, barely audible. “A few more scouting nearby.”

Blast it! The kriffers had the worst possible timing. Theron shifted as he raised the blaster, making sure to keep his body between the staircase and Xaja. The Sand People were very stealthy, but he was pretty sure he could hear the rustling of robes on the ground below- and then, a grunt in the aliens’ language that he couldn’t understand. He glanced back at Xaja and mouthed ‘Fight?’ at her.

Xaja thought for a second, then shook her head. ‘Too many’, she mouthed back, gesturing to the window and the rest of the tribe outside.

Theron frowned, then sharply looked to the staircase. That was the distinct sound of a footstep on a stair that he’d heard. Apparently Xaja wasn’t going to get her wish to remain hidden and out of combat. If I hit it with a toxin dart, it’ll be quiet until its buddies come looking for it, but maybe it’ll buy us time to find a way out of here-

A slim hand landed on his wrist and lowered his arm despite the ascending enemy. “Trust me,” Xaja breathed into Theron’s ear, barely loud enough for him to hear her, close proximity notwithstanding.

Theron gave Xaja an incredulous look, then looked back as the Sand Person’s helmeted head came into view. The hand on his wrist tightened to firmly push his blaster down despite his instincts. Xaja’s other hand waved through the air as the Sand Person turned to look directly in their direction in the traditional style of a Jedi mind trick.

The alien paused and shook its head in confusion, but didn’t start shouting an alarm to its fellow tribe members. It took a step forward, but Xaja waved her hand again, and it froze, seeming to think for a moment before it turned and headed back down the stairs. Theron heard the mumbles and growls of the nomads’ language, then footsteps and silence.

On silent feet, Xaja got up and crept over to the window. “They’re gone for now,” she whispered, “but there’s still half the tribe exploring outside. I think I’ve tricked the one into thinking up here is empty and too dangerous to explore, but it’s hard to do a mind trick that influences the mind of someone who doesn’t speak the same language.”

“Those don’t wear off fast, do they?” Theron whispered as he glanced suspiciously at the staircase.

“Not usually. I caught it off-guard so it should take well.” Xaja crept back over and slid down beside Theron again. “But we’ll have to be careful. Not sure how many I can mindtrick all at once.”

Theron nodded and settled in to wait out the tribe’s exploration of the area, his fingers drifting down to weave into Xaja’s hand comfortably. They had to pick the hottest time of the day to trap us in here, he inwardly grumbled. At least sitting in the shaded, if somewhat stuffy, attic of an abandoned hovel was better than picking their way through the canyon in the blazing sunlight. Although to be entirely fair, moving would have kept him from thinking about the long nights he’d pulled recently to prepare for this new meetup. Some desert cultures treated the hottest part of the afternoon as a naptime, and right now, he could understand why.

But no, he had to stay awake to keep watch. That heaviness in his eyes was just sand that he’d picked up during their gallivanting around Tatooine. He softly sighed and squirmed a bit until his aching back found a bit of respite in his position.

“You okay?” Xaja softly whispered as she took another sip from her canteen.

“Yeah,” Theron murmured. “Back’s just sore. Floor’s not exactly luxury seating.” He grinned and rested his cheek against her shoulder.

Xaja smiled and teasingly raked her fingers through Theron’s hair. She was the only person in the galaxy allowed to muss up Theron’s hairstyle. “Sorry,” she whispered. “Anything I can do to help?”

“I’ve found a comfy human pillow, and it’s pretty, too.” Theron winked up at her and snuggled in to make a point. “Much better already.”

Xaja had to press her fingers against her lips to not laugh. “I live to serve,” she murmured, her fingers continuing to stroke through his hair.

Theron did try to stay awake, honestly, and every so often jolted his eyes towards the staircase when he thought he heard something from downstairs. But between the heat, the fatigue, and his comfortable human pillow with her constant playing with his hair, it was an embarrassingly short time before his eyes finally closed and his breathing evened out. Those other desert cultures with their afternoon naps in the heat had a smart idea…

Xaja had drifted into meditation after several minutes of silence between her and Theron, using the Force to track the points of life that were the Sand People. They’d finally moved away from the hovel, but were still far too close to risk moving yet.

That suited their situation just fine. She felt Theron’s Force-presence fade into sleep despite his best efforts, and wasn’t sure whether she should smile fondly or groan in exasperation. Staying awake in the heat and immobility was difficult enough without a peacefully-resting man resting on her like he was, all comfortably snuggled into her neck. She was tempted to nudge him awake, but she could see the lines of fatigue running through his Force-signature. He needs rest. And he feels so comfortable and at peace- it would be cruel to wake him up.

The fact that she hadn’t stopped stroking his hair, even in her meditative state, had exactly nothing to do with that.

The petite Jedi carefully shifted so she could rest her head against his without disturbing him, casting out again with the Force. Yes, the Sand People were still moving past the hovel with no further interest in the supposedly-empty buildings, but they’d be a while in moving to a safe enough location for the two hiding humans to escape. Plenty of time to meditate and let Theron get a well-deserved nap in. And the fact that Theron’s slow, even breathing was setting the pace for her own breaths and his arm had fallen across her waist to cuddle her despite the heat had absolutely nothing to do with how difficult her thoughts were becoming to order and align properly.

Jedi mental discipline only goes so far when confronted with heat and a comfortable snuggling companion, and it wasn’t long before Xaja’s meditation turned into a nap of her own, cheek pillowed in his hair. What better way to spend a couple of hours in the heat and silence of a hiding place?

#prompt #shameless fluff #intimacy #ask me!#greyias #otp #theron shan #xaja #swtor oc #odessen

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thelastdiadoch · 7 years

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A Nightmare Disease Haunted Ships During Age of Discovery

By Simon Worrall. PUBLISHED JANUARY 15, 2017.

Scurvy killed more people than the American Civil War.

The great voyages of discovery, when seafarers such as Magellan and Cook conquered the world’s oceans, brought immense wealth and knowledge to Europe. But they came at a high price. More sailors died of scurvy—more than three times as many—as soldiers were killed in the American Civil War.

Today we know that this terrible ailment, which ravaged both body and mind, was caused by chronic vitamin C deficiency, brought on by lack of fresh fruit and vegetables. But that diagnosis eluded doctors and explorers for centuries, explains Jonathan Lamb in his new book, Scurvy: The Disease of Discovery. (Find out what happened when scurvy struck Christopher Columbus’s crew.)

When National Geographic caught up with the author by phone in New Zealand, he explained that scurvy had such appalling symptoms that its victims frequently kept their suffering secret; why “earth bathing” was once thought to cure a disease caught mostly at sea; and how scurvy inspired great works of literature.

You call scurvy “the disease of discovery.” Map out its causes and the scale of its ravages in the great sea voyages of the 15th to 18th centuries.

An estimated two million seamen died of scurvy during those years. These are the centuries where people are first crossing the Atlantic Ocean, the Indian Ocean, and the Pacific, and the problem incident to all of those voyages was that you were going to be at sea continuously, probably for more than three months, at some stage in the voyaging. That would be the period when scurvy would make itself apparent because everybody on the ship would be living on preserved foods. In preserved food there are no vitamins, so a variety of nutritional diseases would be likely: lack of vitamin B1 would cause beriberi; no vitamin B3 would cause pellagra; and vitamin C, of course, scurvy.

Scurvy was usually the most obvious manifestation. Sometimes it’s clear from the reports that it was mingled with other ailments, like beriberi. People would get large concentrations of fluid in their legs, a sign of beriberi. Beriberi and pellagra also both caused mental instability and personality changes. All of this can be tracked in the journals of the voyages, where people behave very oddly. The most astonishing example is Captain Cook. Everybody thought he was infatuated in the days before his death. But Sir James Watt, the famous naval surgeon, suggested that, in fact, Cook was suffering from pellagra.

There’s a terrible coyness about scurvy because it was supposed to be, and was, a filthy, noisome disease. People with scurvy stank horribly. It wasn’t something you wanted to admit. Herman Melville, author of Moby Dick, almost always called scurvy “sickness” in his memoires of whaling. People didn’t want to own up to it.

Describe the terrible physical effects of scurvy. Sensitive readers should look away.

[Laughs] The main physical symptom of scurvy is the disintegration of the body. The skin begins to break. It starts with little blood blisters and develops into full-scale ulcers. The gums begin to putrefy and become black. Bones that had previously broken rebreak. Old wounds open up. This is because one of the major effects of scurvy is that the body can no longer produce collagen, the glue of the body’s cells. The cartilage, especially around the thorax, begins to disappear. That’s why people who had scurvy creaked and rattled.

That was on the outside, in terms of the body’s scaffold. In terms of the insides, the hydraulics, what happened was that the arteries and capillaries began to decay. Blood began to leak into the muscle and coagulated inside arteries, causing terrible cardiovascular damage. The effect of this on the brain was that you could have seizures or aneurisms at any moment.

Symptoms were not just confined to the body. Scurvy also ravaged the mind, didn’t it?

The psychological facts were caused by the disintegration of the nervous structure of the brain. The function of vitamin C is to scavenge free radicals, which are what you could call the waste matter of neuronal activity in the brain, which causes oxidation. Oxidative stress occurs when there isn’t enough vitamin C to get rid of the free radicals which are, in effect, blocking the synapses, destroying the effectiveness of the neurotransmitters or causing them to operate in intermittent and explosive ways. And when the neurotransmitters serotonin and dopamine don’t function properly, the brain starts producing hallucinations.

Dreams become very vivid. And what these dreams produce is an image so exact, and brilliant, of what the body needs: namely, food. When you wake up, or when the hallucination disappears, and you find the food is not there, you are totally devastated. Thomas Willis, an expert on scurvy in the 17th century, called it “a falling down of the whole soul.” There are numerous accounts of hardened naval officers just sitting down and crying, because the food they expected to find wasn’t there.

One of the great experts on scurvy in the 18th century, Thomas Trotter, coined the term “scorbutic nostalgia.” But in her recent book, Round About the Earth, Joyce Chaplin suggests that scurvy has got nothing to do with nostalgia. It’s a longing for home. It’s about earth sickness. People in the 18th century thought that the smell of earth, the feeling of being on the land, was beneficial in cases of scurvy. This led to the practice of “earth bathing.” If you equated earth with home, you would ship English earth out, and when somebody went down with scurvy you would put them in a box and pour the earth on top of them. This was supposed to cure them.

^ Sailing ships loaded up on citrus to stave off scurvy among their sailors. PAINTING COURTESY ROBERT MCGINNIS

Captain Cook is credited with solving the problem of scurvy on his ships by issuing vitamin C in the form of lemon juice and fresh fruit and vegetables. But you dispute that, don’t you?

Cook is taken to be the hero who conquers scurvy. But that’s not strictly true. He manages scurvy as well as is possible on his circumnavigations; that is, he’ll stop whenever he can to get fresh greens from the shore or buy fresh meat and fish from natives. He also keeps a very clean, dry, and as much as he can, warm ship. What were called the contributory causes of scurvy—physical misery—Cook reduced to a minimum.

But there was scurvy on all his voyages, particularly on the second one. Cook didn’t help the cause much, either, because, when he came home, he said that the current fashion for malt wort (concentrated malt) was a great preventive of scurvy. He doubted whether it could cure it, so he was honest to that extent. But he was following the line of David McBride, the doctor who said it’s not citrus that will prevent or cure scurvy, but concentrated malt. So what Cook did was recommend something that had no antiscorbutic value at all.

The great historians of medicine at sea, Jack Coulter and Christopher Lloyd, say that Cook’s achievement was not an achievement at all. It wasn’t until Sir Gilbert Blane organized the distribution of citrus to seamen, in 1795, while Britain was fighting the Napoleonic Wars, that you got a regime that kept scurvy at bay. Cook was admirable in so many ways. But on the topic of scurvy he was, you could say, actually an impediment.

Neuroscience is revealing new insights into the effects of vitamin C deficiency. What is it telling us?

It’s saying that certain mental states and mental conditions, like being subject to seizures, are cured by vitamin C. Perhaps the most dramatic example is a paper just published, which says people with septicemia (blood poisoning), if fed intravenously with vitamin C, will reduce their chances of dying by 75 percent.

Vitamin C may also help with one of the side effects of diabetes, osmotic diuresis, which is the leakage of urine into the bodily system. This produces severe oxidative stress and people with that condition could benefit enormously from extra doses of vitamin C. Scurvy itself is still a health problem in the United States and elsewhere.

Scurvy found its way into literature, most notably in Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but also Moby Dick and even 1984. Give us some of the highlights.

The highlight for me is a scene in The Ancient Mariner where the ancient mariner is looking over the side of the ship and sees water snakes. He can’t believe how repulsive they are. “Oh, Christ that this should be, for things with slimy legs did walk upon a slimy sea,” he says. He’s paralyzed with horror. Yet, a couple of stanzas later, he’s looking at the same water snakes and thinking they are marvelous creatures, shedding elfin foam as they fight in the water. His heart goes out to them. He loves them.

This alternation between horror and delight is typical of scurvy and it’s what seems to organize the literature of scurvy. You’re in a terrible state of privation, ignorance, and smell, when suddenly something happens to pull you out of it. That’s usually the arrival of food or liquid in some form, and all your joys come together in one ecstatic blast.

That is one side of the story. The other side is that scurvy is always marked in journals and literature with the problem of telling the story because what you have seen somehow belongs only to you. The reason the mariner has to keep finding new people to buttonhole, to tell his story to, is that he can’t succeed in his narrative and convey the full pressure of the experience. That feeling of being alone is remarkable. People weren’t alone. They were most always in the company of hundreds of other sailors on a ship. But that’s what they feel like. They feel entirely alone and can never explain to anybody what it’s like.

What surprised you most in your researches, Jonathan? And how did writing this book change your view of the world?

What surprised me was the poetic potential of scurvy, with its awfulness and that terrible sense of isolation, when the possibility of ecstatic delights was inconceivable and incommunicable. That kind of privacy fascinated me. I wanted to bang on that door, to find out what it was that they couldn’t tell me. Why, of all diseases, was it the most secret? I’ve become much more curious. Not just about scurvy, but about lots of things!

This interview was edited for length and clarity.

Simon Worrall curates Book Talk. Follow him on Twitter or at simonworrallauthor.com.

#history #navy #disease #health #historic

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